Rain slaps the pavement outside our window; leaves rustle while being washed in the evening storm. Patrick sits beside me reading. A fan circulates the humid air around the room allowing the smell of rain to wash over us.
Today we had another meeting with the CONASPEH board to discuss the upcoming National Congress in February, the march for equality planned, and the continued Emergency Relief efforts following the devastation of the hurricanes. CONASPEH has been reaching out to communities and member congregations in Gonieve and Jakmel, two areas hard hit and suffering from lack of food and clean water. A pastor from the southern coast of the country reported that in his community, 30 children have died of starvation since the storms. He personalized this statistic with a story. He spoke of a member of his church, a mother of 6 children with no resources, no education, and no family support. Two of her children have died since the storms. She recently sold two others for 8 Haitian dollars each ($1 U.S.). Unable to feed her four remaining children, she had to take the only hope she had that maybe someone else could.
There is a name for a type of crime that happens in Haiti: Restavec. Some people, usually with more means than their neighbors, buy children under the false promise of taking them to a better place, feeding them, educating them, offering them opportunities that the impoverished families can’t afford. Families, desperate for any thread of hope for their children, are forced to take a chance. Often, however, the best intention of the child is not the true motivation of the “buyer.” Children are often made into domestic workers, thrown out on the street to fend for themselves, or worse, sold into the sex-trade industry. I don’t know what the motivations were behind the buyer of that woman’s children, but I am sickened by the possibilities. I think of her, what state she must be in, what madness must be taking over as she stands in the wake of such incredible loss, such desperate decisions, and such utter hopelessness.
CONASPEH has been sending money and food to the areas struggling to recover from the storms, the areas trying to get through the days as they pick up the pieces of their lives. Their interventions attempt to cushion the ache of desperate hunger after the storms washed away the food supply. Today we discussed a plan to buy and ship not only food for relief, but seeds for planting: rice, beans, and corn. The short-term food relief hopes to buy people a few more weeks, the seeds offer a chance for sustainable nutrition, hope for the future.
Today Patrick had his first theological class in the seminary: old testament. Nervous about how he’d be received, how his relatively liberal biblical training would translate to students used to conservative theology. He had a translator who seemed to enjoy the class as much as he did helping Patrick out. Patrick urged the students to engage, to discuss, to share their thoughts and ideas on some of the teaching points he brought up. As most class structure has the teacher lecturing while writing on the board, and the students taking notes and echoing when prompted, Patrick’s approach shook things up a bit. And the students responded with enthusiasm. Questions were posed, and discussion took off. Patrick came home this evening bursting with relief and pleasure in the interaction. The students liked him so much that they asked him to be their new testament teacher as well.
It is hard to gauge how you’ll be perceived in a new society, a new culture. The Haitian culture is one we find particularly hard to read. And we are biased by our training, our own culture, our experiences. We are humbled to be in a place as teachers, still wondering how qualified we are to lead people we are just barely getting to know. But tonight Patrick was validated, and he enjoyed his first of many theological discussions and lectures to come. We tread gently in foreign territory, desiring to meld our own ideas with ones well rooted in the community. We hope in the mix, something beautiful will happen. Tonight Patrick had a class, a group of colleagues and students excited about discussing theology and the history of one of the world’s great religions. A good day for Patrick.
So tonight as the rain drowns out the sounds of the city, singing its rhythmic songs lulling us to sleep, we think of not only the life but also the death that such waters have brought this country. We pray for the people who are putting their lives back together, pray for those facing absurd decisions and endless grief. We pray that these waters heal where they have hurt, bring life back to the dead land, wash away the dirt and the dust and the trash and allow life to bloom once again. We pray that we all can be fertilizer for the soil of renewal, reaching out our hands and encouraging the struggle towards the sun, so that one day we all may celebrate in a new harvest together.
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