“But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” Acts 1:8

Today would be our last official day in Haiti as tomorrow we would begin the long trek home. But today, we wouldn’t be visiting schools and signing songs while coloring a craft; today, we would be doing something that was pretty much an unknown. There was a vision of having the chance to bring aid and minister in the closest “metropolitan” area in Haiti called St. Marc. where a large population of either the homeless or the families that were even more desperate for assistance gathered for help. We were told that there was a park near the center of the city where we could set up and hopefully offer some amount of assistance to these people in need. 

As we got up that Friday morning and began consolidating the last of the supplies that we would be needing for the day my body ached whether from skipping dinner the night before or because sheer exhaustion was starting to sink in. The team assembled over breakfast there wasn’t the same level of excitement as we’d seen the other mornings. Maybe because everyone else was starting to look as tired as I felt or because no one really knew what today was going to look like. No one even knew if we were going to see any kids. As breakfast ended and coffee was passed out the team rose to go and make the last day of sandwiches that would come with us as we went to witness to those in the park. Peanut butter was spread, and jelly was dropped all over the table making a huge mess but at the very least no blood was shed in the final day of the sandwich making. Caillie and I went to go and get the final donations that we had finished consolidating that morning. 

These final bags that we would drag from our second floor room, down the stairs, past the two other buildings of rooms and into the lobby to wait for Dago were filled with enough prepackaged hygiene packs for 350 people. They were filled with what we would deem bare necessities: shampoo, conditioner, body wash, toothpaste, washcloths, and a toothbrush. We hoped to find a secure spot where we could finish putting snacks and sandwiches in the backpacks before they would be handed out to those we met in the park. Erin, Mel, Caillie, and I had thought about at least packing the snacks the night before but the emotional rollercoaster that was the night before meant that by the time we were all excused from dinner I could barely handle anything other than my journal and my bed. So, today we’d have to make up that lost time. 

Lounging in our usual spot in the lobby we found the rest of our team. Christian playing his guitar, Erin braiding my hair, and various team members either FaceTiming home or checking emails waiting for our chariot to arrive. There was comfort in this routine. The speed, the rhythm, the sounds, and smells of this life in Montrouis. I figured that what we would soon find in St. Marc couldn’t be that much different from this little village that I had fallen in love with. As we boarded the bus the pit I hadn’t realized that had formed in my stomach from not returning to the schools subsided as adrenaline for something completely unknown began pulsing through everyone on the bus. 

We had about an hour’s drive on that two lane highway without much to see besides the sea to your left and the hills to your right. I got my first glimpse of St. Marc and my first impression was that this city had seen better days. The two lane highway took us through these tan rickety metal gates with a sign overhead letting you know that you’ve made it to your destination. If Port-au-Prince seemed dusty St. Marc just looked covered in grime. Dago navigated into the city and parked alongside a curb besides a fenced in square of rocks and a small patch of grass. This space that was barely the size of a football field was the “park.” On the outside of the fence where our bus was now parked were street venders and across the street storefronts faced the park that had a small pergola and a very old looking jungle gym. 

Brent had shifted in his seat as soon as we entered the city. No longer sitting he was looking out the windows and walked up to where Christian was both assessing the different directions. As Brent came back to where Mel, Erin, and I sat he didn’t look pleased. This is a “logistical nightmare” he said as he started to grab supplies. Christian started making announcements and his tone had shifted from relaxed and calm to alert and uncertain. “Everyone will stay together once we get off the bus. No one will wonder off. If I say get on the bus you go directly to the bus leaving any of the supplies behind without question. Does everyone understand?” 

I didn’t understand why they seemed so uptight. Okay so it was a little busier than we expected. There were a lot of people in this city square and yeah they were mostly all adults with maybe a handful of children walking about. But we had our translators and there was a fence about six feet high around the park so what could make them so concerned? As we got off the bus Christian grabbed my backpack and looking directly in my eyes he said – “Do not leave Brent and Mel’s side you understand?” I nodded but again, I thought he was just overreacting. What could possibly go wrong?

But as things unfolded he might have had a point. As we set up in the park I saw an old woman sitting on a bench about a forth of the way across the park from our team. As people were still setting up I grabbed a sandwich and a hygiene pack and made my way over to her. Sitting next to her I offered her the PB&J and the bag. I was about to attempt my little knowledge of Creole when I heard, “Jessica Marshall!” Crap…you know it’s not good when “Jessica” comes out over “Jessie.” Looking up I saw Brent’s shocked face and Christian’s “displeased” expression. I made my way over there and before either one could say anything Erin carouled me and said that it wouldn’t happen again. 

With bags out in our teammates’ hands to be passed out and Mel, Erin, and I looking to start filling the other ones with the snacks still needing to be stuffed and that’s when it happened. There were only two entrances into the park and we were in the dead center; and as soon as we started passing out supplies and speaking with those already milling about the park swarms of people began flooding through those gates. Mostly men they pushed their way forward surrounding our people grabbing arms and elbows trying to get whatever we were passing out. Backed against the pergola my group didn’t have anywhere to go- but I watched as McKenzie argued with a man who tried to grab what was in her hands. She was fierce and didn’t back down as Gammy walked up and smacked the arm of the man accosting her granddaughter. Brian and Rod were calling out that we were way too overwhelmed and needed to go back to the bus. They came over to our group and with Sandee and Jan’s help they were able to help us load up in our arms the last of the supplies as Brent led us out one gate and back onto the bus. Christian brought the other group on the bus shortly after. With a brief conversation with Daniel and Brent Christian announced that he would give this one last try and then if that didn’t work we were leaving-without arguments. He instructed everyone to take 10 and no more bags and they would be grouped in pairs. A pair with Daniel, one with Brian, one with Rod, one with Mark, and finally one with Christian. After everyone was assigned someone it became clear that my group of Erin, Mel, Brent and I weren’t being invited back out into the park. Brent looked at me and said that it was both of their calls. That it was less of a distraction for the three of us to stay on the bus with him “guarding” the bus and we’ll just keep stuffing the bags that were remaining. 

Annoyed at the situation but knowing that arguing wasn’t going to get me anywhere we started pulling things out and continued filling the bags with the food that we had. Unfortunately, some of the men on the street seemed to notice that there were blans still on the bus. Dago yelled out to them in Creole and Brent in English but it didn’t stop what happened next. My back to the windows I didn’t notice that men were scaling the bus and trying to physically get into the bus with us. As an arm grabbed my shoulder Mel slapped back the hand and Brent threw the window closed. We all moved up and down the bus closing windows as more men climbed onto the bus yelling and jumping up and down making the bus sway back and forth. 

Utterly overwhelmed I started panicking. Erin pushed me into a seat from the expression on my face and told me to breathe. She, Brent, and Dago (who was now holding something that looked like a bat) spread out along the inside of the bus as Mel and I stayed near the rear of the bus. All of a sudden I heard the doors fling open and expected to see Haitian men pillage the bus for what they wanted. Instead it was the rest of the team as they hurried on. Brent got off and I quickly realized that he and Christian were physically pulling men off of the bus as Daniel yelled commands. 

Once everyone was back on the bus Christian and Brent came back to join us. Brian explained what had gone on when they went back into the park and it was just as bad as when we were all there. People grabbing and shoving all trying to get more of what we had. Christian just shook his head as I looked to ask him something. Obviously angry I knew not to press him or Brent who looked equally as displeased. We started driving back out of the city when immense traffic made us have to take many detours to get back to the main road. As we passed one large building that would have looked abandoned except for the line emerging from the front entrance Daniel explained that this was one of the few hospitals around and it was a children’s hospital. 

Mel, who wasn’t one to speak “out of turn” and to be more flexible than the rest of us turned to Brent and said, “They have kids that might need us.” Brent and Christian walked to the front and after a brief conversation with Dago and Daniel the bus came to a hault. Daniel and Christian got off and Brent stood guarding the door. It was probably ten or fifteen minutes later when they re-emerged from the crowd and got back on the bus. Christian announced that we were all going to have a choice seeing as this morning was overwhelming for all of us- we could go back to the Decameron or we could go and disburse the rest of the hygiene bags that we had at the hospital. There was no question as everyone called back out- hospital. 

Firm Christian said that everyone would be staying in groups and NO ONE was to go off on their own for any reason. If someone did we would all get back on the bus and head back to Montrouis. As we filed off staying in a line Christian in the back with Brent and Brian and Daniel in the front we walked over to the entrance where a Haitian woman stood smiling waiting for us. She led us through what looked like an overcrowded waiting room with metal seats and no air conditioning. Children cried holding on to their mothers or fathers waiting their turn to be seen at the “triage” station downstairs before being brought upstairs if their case was warranted and if they had enough beds. We were led up the stairs and the women in charge asked that we not be too loud and that our translators ask each room before we entered. 

Faithfully next to Erin and Mel we took Big James with us as we headed towards the end of the hall as other teams knocked on the first few doors. We knocked on the last door on the right of the hallway and Big James asked the woman that answered if we could come in. She stepped back and welcomed us in showing us the two babies hooked up to IVs in a crib and a little girl that was in a small bed against the other wall of the small cinder block room. The woman explained with Big James translating that one of the babies, a little girl and the older girl were hers, however, she found the other little baby, a boy, behind a dumpster a few weeks earlier and took him home with her family. Unfortunately, this act of altruism led to their family not having enough to eat and now she, her husband, and all three kids were severely malnourished and the kids needed to be in the hospital. 

Her husband wasn’t able to stay with them as they lived far away in the mountains and needed to continue working. Her pain as she explained her story and her joy as she accepted the hygiene bags- one for each member of her family- was infectious. Erin held her hand and prayed as Mel and I went to pray over the little ones. As we walked out of the room there was a slight hallway to the left of the corridor. We walked over to where there was a Glass wall with a single door separating us from four beds filled with kids and a nurse covered in as much protective gear as the hospital must have had. I had no idea why these rooms were behind glass when all the other beds were in open rooms. Bile rose in my throat anticipating the answer to everyone’s unspoken question.

Sitting on the floor with my hands pressed against the glass Erin prayed aloud. Tears fell from her cheeks as my eyes burned with tears that I knew if I started I’d never be able to stop. There was silence as the three of us stood or sat looking through the window, until a familiar voice spoke behind us as Christian lifted his hands to pray over the rooms. As he finished we turned and Daniel began explaining that these were the most serious cases in the hospital and some of these kids wouldn’t make it back home because they were either too sick or because the hospital wasn’t equipped to handle their case. As we left that glass wall and those kids behind with their vigilant nurse we kept going room to room meeting families and hearing their stories of how they ended up in this place. Most were there because of issues that back home a primary care doctor would treat long before it got to the point of hospitalization. 

When we all filed back onto the bus no one spoke. Some still had tears sliding down there faces as Dago shut the doors and we began our trip back to Montrouis. So today ended up being one of the most difficult tasks that we would do while we were in Haiti. Harder than Vacation Bible School with translators, harder than faulty staplers and misplaced supplies. Today we faced death and actual starvation. We had known that there were people here that were facing daily struggles to feed their families but to come face to face with it so abruptly in children my mind couldn’t comprehend.  We really had no idea what we were getting ourselves into when we left the Decameron that morning. We were all emotionally exhausted and today wasn’t over. 

Tonight we had set aside time in our schedule for worship, and for reflection on the week and for each of us to share our individual experiences. After dinner we gathered on the beach, Christian with his guitar and everyone with their stories. It was clear that each person now had a Haiti shaped hole in their testimony. Gil Bailey came and spent time with us as we all took turns talking about each day and the different people that we met. Everyone seemed to have a similar stance on how the kids we encountered here seemed so innocent compared to the kids at home that were already addicted to their screens. Where their first words were  “Mine” or “want” whereas here kids were astounded with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and Legos. 

As some cynicism spread around the circle Gil chuckled and started to explain that this was a common reaction for first time visitors. That the need was so overwhelming that many people expressed bitterness when they got back home. He said that the best advice he could offer was to remember that each person we met here or at home all started as a child that had the simple needs that the kids here had; for attention, to be taken care of, to feel seen and to be loved. No matter where you were born everyone had these same basic needs. No matter where we are we can offer these basic needs of love and grace everywhere we go. These were lessons that we could take back with us to a home that now seemed foreign. 

I didn’t know how I was supposed to say goodbye to something that changed me so quickly and was so powerful. How do I go back to “normal” when there are people here suffering? There was still so much work to be done and we were just going to leave? It didn’t seem right. Saturday morning was so much harder than I expected. My body had finally been overrun with exhaustion but that was nothing compared to the gut wrenching blow when I realized that there was no guarantee that I would ever be back. As we got to the airport, boarded the plane, and took off I curled up trying to savor everything I had just seen. When we landed and were ushered through customs it was bittersweet as I was handed back my passport and heard- “Welcome Home.”