The Riches of Haiti

My time at the Bercy cholera treatment centre continues. The days are long. And hot. And the patients are few, thanks to God. Within an hour of arrival I have checked in to the three treatment tents and introduced myself to the Haitian Nurse in charge in each one. I have high-fived and fist-punched the interpreters with greetings of ‘Kore-em’ and ‘Respecte’. I have shared hugs with the cleaning ladies, shaken hands with the Haitian Pastor and settled silly arguments amongst the security guards (over who has biggest muscles).

An hour later the water truck arrives just outside the perimeter of the treatment centre and I watch as women and children push, shove, and yell their way to the front of the line just to fill their bucket with clean water. The clean water that will prevent them and their loved ones from being admitted on the other side of that perimeter. I think of back home… I have seen women and children argue before. Sometimes over men, sometimes of Lego’s. But this daily occurrence of watching the arguments over something I so take for granted sends tremors through my spirit.

As the sun continues to take it’s place high in the clear blue sky my thoughts wander to times when I was a child and could often find relief through a hose in my yard. As the sprinkler swayed from side to side in an effort to maintain a lush green lawn I would hop around and dare the frigid water to find me and refresh me on what I believed to be such a hot summer day. Today the temperature is at least 15 degrees hotter than any summer day in Canada. There has not been a strong rain here in weeks, maybe a month. And there are no sprinklers.

Just before noon the Chaplains arrive. Before they make their way into the tents to pray with patients the Haitian staff have prayer requests. Never asking for anything of monetary value. Always asking for something of much higher worth… Comfort. Peace. They want the rainy season to bring no traces of cholera even though it will mean an end to their employment. They want food, for their neighbours, even though they themselves are hungry.

The Chaplains leave and after lunch I think I might lie down on a cot for a few minutes just to rest away some of the midday heat. On my way to this ‘time-out’ I spot not one, not two, but three Haitian staff sitting with an open Bible on their lap. They do not do this for show. They do this because they are hungry. And what they hunger for I am not foolish enough to think I can provide.

I lie down on a cot and listen to the commotion around me. Dogs barking. Roosters yelling. Someone is playing Justin Bieber on their phone and I realize that there is no place in the world to escape him! But the sounds that ring out the loudest are the people who have gathered around a radio to take in a worship service. They sing along and offer their own praises. Spontaneously in another tent the translators have started their own rendition of Haitian Idol, singing instead songs of worship they have learned in English and sing in earnest.

Today, like most I spend with my Haitian family I am content. And grateful once again that God is continuing to teach me about true riches. Even in the pits of cholera.

One Love, ♥