The small aircraft circles overhead once to persuade animals to move away from the runway; a narrow strip of gravel running adjacent to the beach. An elderly man appears below wearing a bright orange vest and waving two flags in the air. We circle back around as our landing gear positions into place. The cloudless blue sky meets the crystal clear azure ocean of the Caribbean in an array of colors. A variety of greens and browns cover the distant mountains of the mainland. As I look out the window, Paradise pops into my head. We touch down in an exact location to give us the maximum space to land. A short distance away, a waist high stonewall crosses the strip in a t-shape. The breaks are applied as we hold our breath and the bumpy landing ends. The warmth of the sun envelops us as we step off the plane glad to be on ground again. With enthusiastic hugs, our aging host welcomes us to La Gonave, Haiti.
We unload our belongings and medical supplies quickly into an old garbage truck, which has been converted to a supply vehicle. Many people begin to appear to help, welcome and stare. Their smiles light up their beautiful faces.
Our two-day trip to this island off the coast of Port of Prince is more than half way over. Driving into the mountains to reach Lotore before nightfall is the last leg of our journey.
When compared with these islanders, our group from All Saint’s Anglican church, Pawley’s Island, South Carolina lives a very different lifestyle. In this moment though, it doesn’t matter. All of us are humans who bleed, experience pain, love our families, help people in need, and experience joy. We live life to the best of our abilities. There are more similarities that bring us together than differences that separate us. We come here to help our brothers and sisters in need and realize that we will actually receive more than we give.
Riding in an ambulance along the rutted dirt road, we bump constantly into each other. Trash is strewn along the road, where it sadly contrasts with the natural beauty. We take pictures to show our loved ones at home the state of the roads, but no photo can portray the damage caused by the rainstorms. Our drivers’ reflexes work overtime as they navigate around the multitude of ruts. One of our vehicles has a flat tire and we walk the rest of the way. Because this happens often, we learn to go with the flow. In this region, there is an abundance of red clay. By the time we arrive, we are covered from head to toe. The challenge is removing this clay during a sponge bath since there is no running water, electricity or wells nearby.
Our medical clinic opens for 3 ½ days as we see people from near and far. It is common for someone to walk hours to see us. We work diligently as we don’t want to turn anyone away. The local mission school gives up their classrooms for our clinic. The school children come the first day in their clean uniforms. We wonder in amazement how these mothers keep their children clean when they live in cinder block homes with dirt floors, no windows or doors and surrounded by the red clay.
The children sit quietly with their parents as they wait their turn to see our pediatrician. Long lines also form to see our adult doctors, vet and dentist. A group of teenage boys play soccer in the courtyard with a tennis ball. According to the world’s standards, these kids are disadvantaged though no one has told them. Laughter rises as they experience the joy of playing outside with their friends. Fifteen boys are satisfied with one tennis ball. I speculate on who is truly deprived; these boys or our children back home.
On Sunday, along with the locals, we attend St. Barnabus Mission Church, where it is evident that their trust in God is strong and deep due to their struggles. In Haitian Creole, their voices lift up praises in a beauty few witness.
The history of La Gonave is a sad one. At one time, the island was covered with lush forests. The poorest people from mainland Haiti were shipped over to live on this island in the harbor of Port au Prince. Through the years, the government has stripped the island of its natural resources. Erosion from clear-cutting the forests makes growing crops a difficult task and the ocean has been overfished. These destitute people are growing poorer in an already improvised country.
Our group gives medical care interlaced with hope for a better future. I have been fortunate to go with this remarkable group three times. Each visit brings new lessons and I welcome the time spent with these amazing Haitian people who continually show perseverance, courage, and gratefulness. In this, they have become my teachers.
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