Talk about culture shock! This was NOT any airport that I had ever seen. The Port au Prince airport is....an experience to say the least. I had been told what to expect, but trust me, words cannot convey what was going on.
As you step off the plane, you are ushered back outside and onto a bus. This bus (CRAMMED FULL of people) then takes you to a make shift baggage claim which is essentially an old plane hangar. I am greeted by a Mariachi band of sorts which is a bit odd. As you step into the building the first task is immigration. Not too difficult. Then many, many, many overly eager and friendly Haitian men are there to help you in any way possible. The problem was I just needed a minute to get my bearings and figure out what was going on. They do not give me the luxury of that minute! I quickly figure out I am going to need a luggage cart. $2 and its mine. I then approaching the baggage belt and don't see my very large, very heavy bags. I eventually take one of these men up on their offer to help. He very quickly finds my bags and I am thrilled to hand him a few dollars in exchange. So here I am, petite little white girl in a hustling, bustling, loud, and unfamiliar place where for once in my life, I am the minority. Uncomfortable doesn't even begin to describe it.
I had been told to wait in the airport for two gentlemen that would be escorting me to my vehicle. I had their photo and their names. I eagerly looked around for them. I am almost embarrassed to admit it, but every man there looked the same. Same skin tone. Same haircut. Same red shirt and black pants. How was I supposed to find Renault and his buddy? I wasn't even sure of how to pronounce his name!
Somehow I ended up out on the street in front of the airport with my luggage cart of insanely heavy bags.
I knew I wasn't safe. I knew I wasn't supposed to be here. How had this happened? I am frantically calling my friend in the states trying to figure out what to do. She simply said, "GET BACK IN THE AIRPORT!" I don't know how but this fish swam upstream (literally uphill too) with a huge cart in a fenced walkway not large enough for two people to pass, let alone one with a cart. Haitians were very eager to tell me in their own way that I was NOT going the right way. I didn't care. I knew I had to get back to the building.
As I got to the top, I simply began asking for Renault and showing his picture around. Suddenly a heavenly voice began to holler "Jami, Jami" with a beautiful Haitian accent. It was the best sound I had heard all morning. It was Renault. Whew! He began to tell me that Heather was running late. I should sit on the curb right where I was at and wait. I did just that. Now I finally had time to process what had just happened and I was wanted to cry-to bawl like a baby- but I knew I couldn't. I was filled with fear. Satan was attacking, "What do you think you are doing here? You should just turn around and go home now. These people don't want you? Who do you think you are?" I suddenly remembered Pastor Willie George preaching a sermon on when his daughter fell and got a blood clot on her brain. He had said he quoted scripture to keep Satan's thoughts away. I couldn't think of a scripture for the life of me. However, I did remember one of my favorite songs. "The Lord is my light and salvation. Whom shall I fear? Whom shall I be afraid? I will wait for you. I will wait for you." My fears calmed. I could breathe again. Then the fears began to speak to me. I began to sing. My mind went back and forth for quite a while as I tried my best to look calm in control of the situation. About an hour later, Renault reappeared to tell me Heather was there to get me. Now I really wanted to cry! I was rescued!
I climbed into the vehicle to join Heather, her friend, a missionary, and a young Haitian man who would act as translator.
As we drove through town, I became SICK. Not upset tummy sick. But INSANE motion sickness sick. Haiti roads ARE NOT American roads. There are no traffic rules. There are not lanes. The road is shared by tap-taps (Haitian taxis), motos, and pedestrians. The one rule in Haiti: if you hear honking, get out of the way. Even more importantly: If a bus is headed your way, MOVE FASTER! There simply are not words to express the experience of Haitian travel. I will attempt to take video on our next trip.
After taking some time to stop at a market, we finally arrive at the creche (orphanage). This picture was my first view of the grounds. It was full of children's laughter, chatter, joy, and some crying too. But truly there is one word to describe the sound: "PEACEFUL". I was exactly where God wanted me to be!
I was shown around the two-building facility. I first entered the baby house. Wall to wall cribs and pack-n-plays. All full of babies. Gorgeous, dark-skinned, big-eyed babies! I was in love! Then I was shown the terminally ill nursery. It was ...hmmm...I don't even know what to describe. I had been told that the babies in this room would surely die in just a matter of time. Some looked healthy and normal. However, two of the babies had hydrocephalus. This is a birth defect that causes fluid to build on the brain. It happens here in the states too, but we have the medical advances to deal with it immediately. In Haiti, this diagnosis is pretty much a death sentence.
Then I meet an amazing and precious young baby boy.
As I take this child in my arms, I ask his name. I am told he is not named yet. He has just been rescued. You see this baby was 10 months old and weighed 8 pounds. Take a moment and process that. My daughter was over 8 pounds at birth! Look at his leg compared to my fingers. I asked if I could have the honor of naming him and was told yes. I needed time to get to know him first, but I decided on Daniel. You see, this child had already been to the lion's den and he had survived! Yes, his name is Daniel.
I was loving my experience, but I was still in wonder of why God had brought me here. When would I find out?
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