Our Haiti team was split up, because we were traveling to Miami during spring break so airline tickets were hard to come by to say the least. So Dan, Zach, Bethany, and I flew from Houston and the rest of the team departed from DFW. Apart from driving from Belton, spending the night in my place of birth Humble, and getting woken up by gun shots outside our window (thus the reason why I was only born there and didn't grow up there) and leaving for Miami at 6 in the morning; our team was soon reunited.
We gathered together in the Miami Terminal waiting patiently for our flight to Haiti. As we waited, our nerves built and the anxiety came. Others started to gather around us, who were going to be traveling on the plane with us. We noticed accents, and languages we couldn't recognize. We were scared of what was to come and the experiences that would soon be at hand. An at that very instant when all of these emotions were about to boil over, God sent us reassurance. Reassurance came in the form of a Haitian man whose names has left me, and I can not remember. He was traveling back to see his mother, his last remaining relative after being in the states for school and work for the past ten years. He was interested why a group of 13 American youth would be traveling to a third world country during spring break. so we did what was only natural to do in those sorts of situations; we told him our story. To our amazement, a man who had come from a country who the vast majority of the people practice voodoo, this man that just so happened to cross paths with us, was in fact a believer, and studying to become a pastor. As almost to counter act the nerves that were attacking us, he began to encourage us about our journey. He told us in almost a poetic sense, "Do not be afraid, for the people of Haiti know why you have come. They will be happy and excited to see you, for they know why you have come. Do not be afraid." After we finished our conversation, we prayed for each other. Then we boarded the plane bound for Haiti.
The plane was a typical Southwest plane, with the flight attendants, tv's, bathrooms, and of course seat belts. The flight was only about two hours in length which for the majority of I slept.
But I woke up. An we began our decent to the city of Port au Prince. As I looked out my window I could see the buildings, a sea of grey pressed against a wall of crystal blue ocean. In the midst of the grey were eerie splashes of white and blue tent cities within the city. At the sight of this the airplane grew silent, and the anxiety among the passengers grew as the plane began to land. As we came closer and closer to the runway the buildings, and the images from CNN and Fox News became reality. We landed the plane on a thin barely paved road in a middle of a field, the actual airport was by no means like that of a typical American airport. There was no air conditioning, and we went through customs and baggage claim in a large metal building. Baggage claim consisted of rummaging through piles of luggage around the room, and personally finding and carrying out your luggage on large carts like you would rent from a hotel. No automated luggage carousel.
Once we gathered our gear, we went out into the street to find our ride, Pastor Jean Helix. We exited the airport with our carts pushing through the crowds of Haitian men, young and old, who were trying to offer their help to us for a price. We literally had to push people out of our way and away from our cart because we were afraid they were going either steal our luggage or us. We passed and looked passed beggars and children who pulled on our clothes in hopes of food or coins from our pockets. We moved into the street dodging cars and motorcycles, and walking into puddle of "God-Knows-What". But in reality the "water" puddles that formed on the streets were mostly made up of urine, feces, sewage, and fluid from decomposing bodies. We washed our shoes, pants, and legs when we got to our place of residence to say the least. But then we soon were directed to our means of transportation, "tap-tap" as the locals call it. Which is basically a large flat bed truck with a covering and benches in the back of it for passengers and luggage. It felt like a thousand pounds was lifted off my chest when we found Pastor Jean Helix and were finally on our way to his home.
