Wednesday, January 20, 2016

Shifting Perspectives

Day 1 in Haiti....Cite Soliel.
While some of us arrived in Haiti on Sunday and others on Monday, today was our first full team day and work day. And what a way to start...water truck day. I will do my best to describe what that really means though words on a screen or paper can hardly do it justice.

In a plain definition, water truck day is simplistic. It's a matter of bringing clean drinking water to those in greatest need who have no means of collecting it on their own. These people live in Cite Soleil, the poorest part of Port at Prince--the capital city of Haiti--and maybe one of the poorest areas of the world with an estimated 300,000 people living in 8 sq miles.

Now let me describe what that experience really was for me from a few different aspects: the work, the environment, the people, and the children.

Let's start with the work, the easiest to talk about. What more basic need in this world is there than water. Imagine a day or even an hour when you did not have access to this most basic need. Being able to help provide this for even a small number of people.

Through the cooperation of multiple organizations, we rode from our very comfortable guest house to meet the water truck--a truck carrying 3,500 gallons--deep in Cite Soleil for stop 1. Within a couple of minutes, dozens of residents appear with the buckets and other containers waiting to be filled. Like a well-oiled machine, our guides and those with the water truck move people through the line as each container is filled and carried away. We worked to hold the hose coming from the truck, to move full buckets out of the way so others could be filled, and carried buckets--5 gallon, 10 gallon, and larger--to their homes. We repeated this process two additional times.

While the sun was hot and the work was hard, the environment was like no other I had experienced in my travels. To hear that the residents of Cite Soleil are among the poorest in the world cannot begin to paint a picture in your mind of what that looks like, feels like, and smells like. These are people with no access to not only clean water but other basic services we take for granted: septic systems, paved roads, garbage haul-away, electricity (unless you are fortunate enough to have a generator). They have no way of disposing of waste or garbage other than in the streets. Pigs, chickens, goats, and dogs walk among the garbage to find their food.

Lining the narrow streets, are their homes. While I use the word "homes," this is very different than what we call home. Some live in cinder block or cement structures and others make homes using scrap metal and material they find. Most have no doors or windows other than a sheet and are very small--often one room or maybe two. I ventured into only one home to deliver water that had a room large enough for a twin bed and a second room that served as their kitchen. So modest compared to what I call home.

Residing in these homes are the people of Cite Soleil. While we spoke different languages, we communicated beautifully to do the work needed. They could ask us to help lift the bucket so they could carry it on their heads without a word. Or direct us to their homes as we carried buckets with them. To be fair, they often started with a "Hey you!!" And they always ended with a "Thank you." I got the sense that they are a proud and grateful people. They graciously accepted the help of strangers and allowed us to work along side them.

Lastly, I must end with the children. So many children who were trusting and loving and happy to have us there. They could hear the water truck and the tap-tap (our ride) coming and would converge on the street. They would be waiting for us to get out of the tap-tap and instantly look for love. At all three stops, I had a child (or two) in my arms within seconds of emerging from the truck.

While there are many children who captured my attention today, a few in particular will forever hold a place in my heart. Nasoon (nah-soon) was a small boy of about 3 or 4. While he was wearing pants and a shirt, he had no shoes to protect his feet from the debris that littered the ground. He was a very quiet and sweet boy who smiled each time we made eye contact. Even when I carried water, he was waiting for my return when I would scoop him up again.

I also spent a good deal of time with Chrystala (Chris-sta-la) in my arms. She is probably 5-6 and a ball of energy who would not let me put her down or pick up another child. She was quite possessive of this stranger she had just met. And she was very affectionate kissing me at least a hundred times in the hour we spent together.

Lastly was Pierre who was a preschool student on his way home from school still in his uniform as we were arriving at our second stop. He simply came up next to me, grabbed my hand, and gestured for me to pick him up. Every time I delivered water, he held on to my shirt and walked with me so I could pick him back up and carry him again. He nestled his head in my neck and seemed at peace there for several minutes at a time. While we were there to fill the need for clean water, I did what I could in just a little bit of time to fill the need these tiny souls had for some attention and affection.

To say that day 1 was a powerful, overwhelming, and perspective-shifting day is an understatement. I can only hope these memories will serve as a constant reminder of how great life is and how much impact one experience can have.

Angela Olson

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