Faith Hall

Professor Campbell
UWRT 1103
January 30th, 2016
Haiti

As we were flying into the Port-au-Prince airport I was glued to the window of the 3rd aisle.
I couldnt see much but dirt roads and the run down run way that we were about to land on. It was
not until we got closer to the ground that I saw the city. The word city is used derisively since I
did not see beautiful exotic sky scrapers or bright green grass, what I did see deeply contrasted to
what I had envisioned in my mind and this was occurring even after I had prepared myself mentally
for this trip for months. What I saw laying outside the window of the comfortable air-conditioned
plane that I had arrived on was a disenchanted land filled with a sea of shacks and destroyed
buildings lining the airport run way. What astounded me most was the desolation spread out as far
as my eyes could see. For a brief moment my breathe caught in my throat and I felt a weight on
my chest as the gravity of this new world that I had just landed in soaked into my skin and then
dripped back out as beads of sweat on my forehead. It still did not feel quite real to me until I took
my first step off the plane. The fresh air that I was longing for after sitting on the 3 hour flight was
not what I received, instead my nose was filled with the smell of garbage, diesel, and feces. That
is the precise moment I knew that I had not prepared myself fully for my trip.
I walked through the airport slowly with my sister and the other 9 members of my church
in a mixed state of wonder. Wonder about what I was going to see and encounter in the next 8 days
while in Haiti. I remember walking out of the airport terminal where our pre-arranged van awaited
us. We stepped outside the airport doors and I experienced for the first time in my life what it truly
feels like to be the outcast. Stared at by hundreds of Haitians crammed along the wired fences of

the airport that separated them from us. It was people of all ages children, mothers, men, and
elders. I saw desperation in their eyes and my heart felt heavy and burdened. We piled the 14 of
us in the 10 person van. Pastor Enick, our translator as well as our missionary advisor and a resident
of Haiti, explained to us that many people gather there just to watch who gets to leave. About 1
percent of the population are given visas, therefore, many stand outside to see who is leaving. We
got out to the street and instantly my mind was blown. No street signs, no stop signs, no street
lights, not even paved roads. Enick gave us fair warning while we were packing the car that the
roads were destroyed in the 2010 earthquake and have not yet been repaired, but what I saw was
unimaginable.
The drive from the airport to the mission camp that stood in the center of the city was about
40 minutes long. The drive felt more like 2 hours. Inside the van was about 10 degrees hotter than
outside and of course I was sitting in the back corner where stale sewage air circulated and filled
my nostrils. I stared out the windows of the van, my eyes darting from left to right to front to back
attempting to see everything thing I possibly could on our ride through town. It was all so
overwhelming, it was like my mind needed more information so I could truly understand that it
was all real. I saw truck beds with almost 10 people inside. Enik explained to us that these trucks
were called Tap Taps, where the people would run up tap the back jump in the bed and ride to
their destination. I remember looking on the sidewalks and seeing all the street hustlers, selling
used clothes, meat, water, candy, and or jewelry. Women carrying giant baskets on top of their
heads. Young kids running up to cars trying to clean the windows to get any type of change (Enick
warned us about this). It was chaotic and I was in utter shock at what I was seeing. I was no longer
home.

We reached the mission camp, which was gated from the other destroyed buildings in the
city. Since there has not been repairs from the earthquake in 2010, the city grew around the
destruction. Shops and houses built on top of rubble and stores inside gaping holes of cement
buildings. Inside the mission camp it was almost as though we were in a haven, a small oasis that
stowed us away from all the destitution. There was a small pool to the left and across from that
was the outside/ inside kitchen across the court yard was the building where our rooms were in. I
remember standing in the middle with my bags confused as to how this sat in this city when beyond
the gated walls was a whole other world. It was almost like finding a diamond in the dirt. That
evening we went to the market of Port-au-Prince. This was only two blocks over from Enicks
home. At this particular market there was just about anything and everything being sold here.
Mostly was worn clothes, I remember seeing American sports team shirts hung up trying to be
resold. As I was walking through the market the kids were pointing, saying Blanko, blanko
(meaning white). It is not an everyday occurrence to see a white person in Haiti. After walking
through the market I looked to my left and in an ally where piles of trash were sitting stood a man
and his son unabashedly digging through the trash.
The next day was the first day that we were going to the church site that we were building.
Our goal for the trip was to put the walls on the sister church we were building outside of Port-auPrince. We reached the church site where pastor Pardue (the pastor of the church), his family, and
his church members awaited us. His church congregation had been meeting under a tarps in front
of his home.
Pastor Pardue met us with a big smile and a warm welcome, Vein Swa, Welcome to my home
and my church. We thank you.

I immediately felt like I was with family, the cultural boundaries were melted with the love
that genuinely poured from this man as he welcomed us to his home. We prayed over our project
and then begin working. I remember looking at the tools we were using and thinking that there
was not any way we would make it out. The men of Pardues church were eager to work and began
working right away. We started with making the concrete, mixing together rocks, dirt, and water.
After the concrete was being mixed the 3 girls in our mission group and I were sent to tie the rebar
and assemble a line for the cement buckets. No Haitian woman worked on the construction like
us, however they were in the back cooking meals for all the workers for lunch. Most of the guys
were not working for a salary or money but for the meal they were receiving at lunch time. 108
degree weather was the ultimate struggle in doing labor outside. I had never been so hot in my
entire life but I would look over and see the local men working in pants and shirts and knew that I
could not complain.
By the end of the first day I made it my mission to learn everyones name. It was a huge
struggle not being able to speak the same language but in a type of way it was more special to me.
Special that we were able to laugh and joke around with only understanding a couple of words. I
learned every ones name we were working with. I watched Cientel dig and mix the concrete over
and over again with just one working hand. I watched James lay the cinder blocks for the wall. I
watched Stephon wheel the barrel of water from the well. I watched Sambo spread the cement
between the cinder blocks. I watched Juan teach my sister how to correctly tie the re bar. I watched
Pastor Pardues wife make the rice and beans for each worker. I watched Pierre run around with
the other little boys in the street. I watched every worker what they did, how the interacted with
each other, what they said to each other, and how hard they worked. I also watched how they all
would break their food and share it.

We made it back to the mission camp at dusk that night. My sister began keeping a journal
for our trip, so I did as well.
Today was our first day at the church site. It was a shock to see what they were using as
their walls and seats for this church. They meet every Sunday with no air condition, no roof to sit
under, or even books to read out of. Pastor Pardue carries the bible and they memorize the
scripture through him speaking. I learned more today about myself than I have in the past 17 years
of my life. It brings tears to my eyes to know that I have lived such a luxurious life without even
being completely grateful for it. To watch the men and woman today work only to receive a meal
and to have worked harder than every single one of us out there. One of them takes about 3 of us.
The people here are truly remarkable. I cant wait to see what this week will hold.
The next week we spent working on the church went by like a blink of an eye. We worked
hard to build the walls and foundation for the new church building. We faced challenges with the
small amount of resources that we were given to construct the entire church. The wheel barrel for
the water broke the second day, as the ply woods were too weak for the columns on the third day.
No matter the challenges we faced, we were still able to get the job finished and on time.
I grew closer with my mission group as well as the men of Pastor Pardues church. Stephon
and Sambo became two of my great friends. They helped me with my Creole. Each day the three
of us would eat lunch together. They would ask me questions about my life, like what I liked to
do, what my house looked like, what music I listened to, how many brothers or sisters I had. The
two of them touched my heart and I can honestly say made me a better person. They showed me
love when they had not known me before, they helped me when I would become weak on the job,
and they talked to me and laughed with me each day more and more. On the third day Stephon

asked for my email, so that he could try to email me if he ever got internet access. As I wrote my
name, number, and email he was mesmerized at my writing.
Beautiful for every word
On the last day we worked, I ended up giving my English bible to Stephon for him to
practice his English and my journal to Sambo so he could practice his writing. Stephon found a
rock in the shape of a heart and handed it to me in return. I still have it on my desk today.
I wish that the week would not have gone by so fast and I wish I could have been able to
spend more time with our sister church family. Friendship Baptist of Haiti was created on June
26th, 2014. They are our church members just as we are theirs. I remember the heartache I felt as
we were driving away in our van for the last time.
Me rele ou!, Me rele ou!
I love you!, I love you! is what they were telling us while driving away. I remember telling
myself dont cry, dont cry but it overwhelmed me. I cried that whole ride back to the camp. I
sat out that night with my journal in hand on the roof and looked over the entire city.
Lord, I thank you for the lesson you have taught me in these short 8 days. As I look over
the city seeing few lights, I know that you are here and living through these amazing people. I
came in thinking that I was the one going to be doing the teaching but I was wrong. They taught
me. I feel guilt, I feel anger with myself as to the life I have been living before this trip. I learned
what it means to be selfless and how to truly put others before yourself. There is so much work
that has to be done here but as well as back home too. I will be back and I will share this experience
with as many people as I can. To my friends of Friendship Baptist of Haiti, I love you all and I will
see you soon.

We flew out the next morning. Nothing of me wanted to leave Haiti. In just 8 days my
whole perspective on life changed. My whole world had shifted. Before this trip I was facing many
challenges with myself as well as my faith in Christ. It was not until I saw actual suffering and
what it meant to have nothing or what it meant to be hungry or what it meant to put others before
yourself. I found salvation. I found love. I found hope. Most of all I found my calling in life. My
heart belongs in missions and helping others and there is not a day that goes by where I reflect
back on the things I encountered.
You messed up my entire order. I wanted a double cheeseburger not a single
I remember hearing this the first minute after entering the airport from a disgruntled patron
in line for lunch in front of me. I was back. It took me weeks to adjust back into the lifestyle here.
I was able to overcome this and understood that everyone here did not experience what I did. I
could not hold anger towards those that are unaware. For me, I did know and once you know, you
cannot un-know. I will go back again, many times. Until then, I will live as humble as possible. I
have Haiti to thank for that.