By Kimberly Curry
(A “Touched By Haiti” Story Contest entry.)
I was in Haiti for the second time along with others from back home, including my three daughters. If I’d been asked years ago if we would ever go to Haiti together, I would have said,” That’s never going to happen.” There was a point in my life where I had no desire whatsoever to work there, but after my “baptism” in the sewage canal in Port au Prince (a long story), I was already plotting and planning how I was going to get back there and when and what I could offer the folks in service.
The Mountains to Mountains team came to Haiti in two groups: one that went to Mizak to conduct eyeglass clinics and ours. Our group was going to work with Real Hope for Haiti in Cazale. The work that is going on there is truly the work of the Lord. They are touching the poor, the sick and the dying, the least, the lost, and the lonely.
We were met by folks from Real Hope at the airport and taken up the mountain. There were eight of us: a nurse practitioner, an RN, a nursing student, two older teenagers, a preschool teacher, a construction worker, and me (a teacher). Those who were medically trained worked in the clinic: doing consults, taking vitals, changing dressings, and teaching the nurses about eye trauma and eye diseases. The teenagers counted pills, made bleach bags and cut gauze, sorted and organized boxes from the shipping container and held and played with the children in the ICU. The construction worker helped up on the land helping to prepare for the new cholera hospital, loaded and unloaded goods and assembled cots for the current cholera house. The preschool teacher did assessments on the ICU children, provided physical therapy and taught the nannies developmental milestones. I “attempted” to teach basic eye care and eye safety to the ever-enthusiastic clinic patien ts who had no choice but to listen to the “blanc” teacher ramble on and on through an interpreter.
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There are not enough words, no matter how hard you try, to explain things to others who haven’t been there, you just can’t, but once you’ve been there, you understand. For example, how your sweat sweats in Haiti. Spandex under your skirt is not a new trend, but a preventative measure. Dental floss doubles as string for pull-toys. Traffic patterns and laws are optional. Stomping the tile floor as you’re going to the bathroom at night to scare away the fattened rats is a defensive move. Drinking lukewarm water from your water bottle is something to be thankful for because you have a drink. You talk yourself into believing that cold coffee from instant coffee mix really tastes ok. You even start thinking the livestock your driver swerves to miss in the road or the chickens who wander through the courtyard are normal. Seeing a goat head and its various body parts laid out on a table in the market or chicken pieces dotted with flies on a metal wash pan for sale is just what is.In Haiti, if the driver says, “I’ll be there at 8:30,” and doesn’t show until 9:15, you just figure, that’s Haiti. You don’t get mad, you just wait.
You can’t believe how mean you were to the men at the airport who want to help you with your bags because if you let one help, a swarm of others descends upon you expecting to help and also be paid. Clothes don’t match and riding on someone’s lap is not against anyone’s rules anywhere and necessary if you want to take your whole group anywhere. Sharing water bottles, deodorant or your lap on a tap-tap is what you do.
There are many things I have experienced in my life (that I’d never even thought of) due to my trips to Haiti. Giving a presentation to clinic patients on eye care through an interpreter is one such experience. We hired an interpreter the nurse had met in Port au Prince when she worked at the Cholera Hospital through Samaritan’s Purse to interpret for us. He was wonderful and very astute at sizing up my presentations. After the fourth presentation where there were few questions and little interest, he remarked in his Haitian Creole, “That sucked, huh?”
In my groups there were pregnant women, new mothers, babies, small children, teenagers, the elderly, those who walked miles without shoes, those partially dressed, all intermingled together. Tickets are given out early to those who line up before daybreak. I eventually thought nothing of the four breast-feeding mothers as I tried to discuss the importance of preventing cataracts to the crowd of more than forty packed together on the painted green benches. Some brought their lunches in metal pails while others had nothing more than a limonade bottle of water to hold them until they finished their visit which might not be until 5:00 depending upon the number of tickets given out. Small children were dressed in their best (even if it was a velvet dress with pantyhose in the middle of July) and the elderly women wore wide-brimmed hats and their nicest dresses. Some wore t-shirts sent over by the U.S. while others had clothes pinned together and obviously too small. Some asked questions as if I really was an eye doctor (a disclaimer the interpreter shared at the beginning) and obviously I disappointed them when I had no answer. However throughout th presentation, they mostly just nodded their heads, politely smiled and pretended to understand this white woman who was desperately trying to fulfill a need. I knew I didn’t make a big difference in them, but all my experiences there have made a big difference in me. It’s a great experience. It’s Haiti.
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