Haiti is one of those places where one can feel and almost live in the spiritual realms that seem so intangible in the world of material abundance. It is a place where the tears and sorrow, the smiles and laughter, are from the mysterious soul deep inside that makes us human and binds us together. That element that is so easy to ignore from the comfort of our familiar, isolated microcosms of homeostasis. And I was privileged to be there and experience it all over again with the January team from Three Halos.
One of my favorite parts of the day was when our group gathered in a small circle and recounted where we had felt sorrow and where we had seen God. After all the chaos of clinic, it was a chance to realize what we had actually seen and done. There are three experiences I’d like to share that are representative of the scope of emotions I felt.
The first, the story of Marie, has already been detailed by Cynthia. Marie was one of my patients. I liked her from “Bon swa.” She was slender and quiet but her smile betrayed her. It showed sparkle, confidence and intelligence. While we were waiting for the private exam table, I made small talk with her and felt the inexplicable connection of friendship. After the exam, I went in the pharmacy and cried while I gathered the Augmentin, Zofran, and Ultracet we gave her. When I asked if I could have my picture with her, she said, “Just a minute.” I had to stand in awe – and laugh – as the lovely woman who had just been told her cancer was back with a vengeance, demurely pulled out her lipstick. She laughed with me and gave me another cherished photo of Haiti.
Cassandra was another of our patients. She is mentioned in the Emergency Prayers post. It was apparent when she came in that she was ill. She clung to her father and showed little curiosity in her surroundings. Perhaps most worrying was the uncharacteristic somberness of the father and child. Even in their poverty, Haitians are generally quick to smile. The absence of a return smile showed the depth of the impoverished father’s concern. By the time I completed her exam, I understood the foreboding in his heart – because it was mirrored in mine. I saw it in the anxious eyes that followed us around the room and the gentle prodding of his little girl to follow instructions. The sorrow lodged in my heart and followed me home.
The third incident occurred on Friday. After lunch, we gathered our translators, security guards, Michel, Junior, and a few others. We told them how much we had appreciated their work – it obviously came from their hearts as well. We wanted to do something special for them and so told them to sit in chairs. We gave each of them a neck and back massage (in shifts because there were only 6 of us). Apparently this was something new for them because when they figured out what we intended to do they started laughing and didn’t stop until well after we were done. When we were done with the first group, another quickly took their place eager for a turn. A few of them had not been invited but decided it looked good. Obinson, one of our security guards, came up behind one of these men and started to rub his shoulders. He rapidly moved down his back until he was right over his ribs, moved his hands slightly to the sides and began mercilessly tickling the fellow. I thought we were going to have to mop the floor every Haitian in the room was laughing so hard. Obinson was laughing so uncontrollably he had to go outside. It was an unforgettable experience to belly laugh with the friends whose indispensable assistance and love for God and fellowman made the week possible.
Haiti is a place where heart break and joy are companions, not opposites. It is a place where giving your life means finding your soul.
