Humble

Every day in Haiti is full of surprises.  Because we are traveling with a team of only three on this trip, we have been riding in a pick-up truck versus our usual mode of transportation in Haiti, a tap-tap.  Over the course of the last two days, we have learned the Haitian version of drive-through dining.  We have purchased everything from bags of plantains to cell phone minutes to large quantities of fresh produce through our truck window simply by having the vendor on the side of the road hand us our purchases through the window.  Sometimes they even need to run alongside of our moving vehicle to complete the transaction.  What great levity this has added to our more often very serious encounters.

With our hunger satisfied through the truck window, I then had a lesson in humbleness when we visited Reiser Heights today.  We made the long trek up the bumpy mountain road to visit the school, distribute shoes and backpacks to many of the students, and check on the progress of the new roof we are putting on the community building at the school.  When classes were over for the day, we asked the school director if it would be possible for us to walk home with one or more of the students and meet their families.  Several students eagerly agreed.   The first little girl ran just ahead of us down the tiny, muddy trail to her nearly hidden house and came out of the front door dumping a large dishpan of water outside to make her house more presentable.   We stepped into the tiniest home of a family of five—one small room with a tin roof, a dirt floor and one bed.  The family survived by raising and selling vegetables at the local market and by taking in some laundry.  As meager as their possessions were, they welcomed us with pride into their home.  They patiently answered all our curious questions via a translator and let us take photos of them standing outside their tiny shack. 

This was the reception we received at all three homes we visited.  Part of me felt ashamed of being in their homes, so tiny that you could touch the beds from the small doorways.  It seemed inappropriate that we were asking them personal questions and prying into their family lives.  But they seemed undisturbed by it.  They were people who had nothing to offer but yet had so much to offer.  They accepted us as WE were without ever questioning us.   And I felt so humble in their presence. 

Oh the things I learn in Haiti…

Blessings,

Ann