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I returned from Haiti at 3 a.m. Monday after 23 hours of continuous travel by pickup truck, small plane, jet and bus. Had I known what a mission trip to Haiti involved, I probably wouldn’t have gone. Now that I’ve been, I’d go back in a heartbeat.
I ate goat, went through four large bags of IV fluid after getting sick twice, rode in a sailboat in the middle of the ocean that was the failed prototype for Noah’s Ark, gave up taking showers, held a uterus full of tumors after watching a hysterectomy, heard a baby’s first cry, escorted an earthquake victim on a treacherous ride, slept on a bed filled with bugs, changed diapers of children who were mentally handicapped and walked through a the streets of a Haitian town where people’s houses weren’t as big as our sheds.
As soon as we arrived, I’ll admit it, I cried. I wanted to go home. This was not what I agreed to. I thought I would hold cute children under a coconut tree, help someone repair their home or wait with someone before surgery.
As I headed back the mission’s gate, I realized that I would have to go back the same way I came — four flights (one of which ended on a dirt airstrip where people grazed their goats) and a bumpy, hour-and-a-half ride in the back of a pickup truck where you feel like you could die at any second from either the fumes or oncoming traffic.
So, I did what every woman alone in the middle of a Third World country does — I put on my big girl pants and dealt with it because there was nothing else to do.
I traveled with a group of people from DeKalb County — Alice Weller and Dorie Johnson, both of Garrett, nurses Lindsay Klopfenstein and Kim Hall, mechanic Leo Garman of Auburn, pharmacist Sarah Trovinger formerly of Auburn and minister Jim Lilley of Garrett. Everyone had different talents and personalities, but we all got along really well.
While the plane was descending on the lone runway at Toussaint Louverture International Airport in Port-Au-Prince, we could see tents dotting open fields, the Hope boat floating near the shore, U.S. Army camps and Red Cross vehicles. Having never traveled to Haiti, it was difficult to discern earthquake damage from the poverty that existed long before the ground started shaking.
The airport sustained damage during the earthquake — as evident from the very large crack running down the front of the building — so we went through immigration and customs in an airport hangar with makeshift furniture.
We then followed our interpreters to the back of a pickup truck, where we sat on wooden benches and rode to the next airport. As we drove the bumpy, rocky road, we saw people standing along the sides of the road by dilapidated buildings, piles of dirt, litter and mud puddles. Never will I complain about Auburn’s bumpy sidewalks or potholes after a long winter. We took those trucks everywhere, and I could run 8 miles faster than those trucks could drive it.
Never had I seen such poverty or joy. As Leo Garman said while walking through the streets of Port-de-Paix one day, in all of Haiti’s ugliness — its lack of sanitation, water, food, health care, decent roads and homes — its beauty glimmered. Neighbors helped each other. Children played together. Voices naturally harmonized when singing. Everyone said hello and smiled.You expected Barney Fife and Beaver Cleaver to come bolting out of a shack at any moment.
Haitians were surprised to see others coming and helping after the earthquake. Some people thought the U.S. government paid us to be there. When we explained that we actually paid and used vacation time to help, they were floored. I think a couple even thought we were crazy.
You’ll read more about the team’s adventures in Haiti in Sunday’s paper. Hopefully, you’ll have a few laughs, feel inspired and get a new perspective on Haiti. As I discovered — it’s one thing to rebuild a city and repair broken limbs, and it’s another to help rebuild hope.
LINDSAY WINSLOW BROWN is the lifestyle editor at The Star. She can be reached by e-mail at
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