The Journey North

by Kandy Sanders

The journey across Haiti to the small town of Petite Riviere was long and filled with sights which were new to me. When driving through the country side of Alabama it is very common to see pastures full of cows, horses or goats. Occasionally a hen house can be seen in rural areas of the state, or perhaps a few chickens pecking around in someone’s yard. I had never been in a place where cows, horses, goats, donkeys, chickens and pigs roam completely free right in the middle of a city. There was an almost disturbing clash of cultures which could be seen in every direction. People were riding donkeys loaded down with goods, children carefully balanced buckets of water on their heads, while trucks and motorcycles seemed intent on running everyone else off the road. On one street corner an elderly woman was selling freshly made fried plantains and pork on a stick, while on the next a man was trying to sell old stereo parts and computer equipment. One of the strangest sights was of a lady walking down the road with a large basket of laundry on her head while talking on a cell phone. Occasionally a UN truck filled with soldiers carrying large weapons would come into view and I was unsure at the time if I should feel protected or frightened. While the bus weaved its way among the streets littered with debris and people, the cacophony of sounds was unlike anything I had previously heard. The constant noise of large trucks rumbling slowly through the city, the buzz of motorcycles darting in and out of alley ways, and people hawking their goods on the streets verged on auditory overload. The air was filled with dust and a horrid smell which could have been one of any number of things, but the near nausea that it induced prevented me from attempting to identify its origin. The constant jostle caused by the conditions of what the Haitians called “roads” was more than slightly annoying and I almost felt as if I was in Jeremy’s old Tacoma mud riding through Mt. Olive again. The only difference was that this ride was incredibly long and punctuated by nearly constant horn blasts from our bus and every other vehicle around us.

The larger cities through which we traveled resembled Port-au-Prince in that they looked like garbage dumps with people and animals wandering around in them. While in Port-au-Prince I had been astounded by the amount of earthquake damage still visible but as we made our way north, I eventually began to see evidence of hurricane damage. Haiti has been ravaged by many hurricanes, tropical storms and floods over the past few years, but I had assumed that the country had largely recovered from these earlier assaults. Surely the earthquake was the only natural disaster still causing problems, I thought. Unfortunately, as I soon learned, the country is in such mayhem that the people just cannot seem to get out from under the devastation of so many catastrophic events. For too many reasons to explain here, damaged buildings sit untouched, lingering rubble is piled high in the streets, people remain hungry, and children are still sold as slaves.

The bus stopped in St. Marc, which is the main port of Haiti, so that we could eat a late lunch and load up on groceries before getting out into the countryside where supplies would be fewer and harder to find. For me, it was an exercise in faith just to walk across the street since vehicles had no regard for the safety of pedestrians and they almost seemed to veer toward those on foot in most instances, so I was sure I was stepping off the curb and into certain death. Let me say here that I have spent time in many large U.S. cities, including New York, San Francisco and others, as well as the cities of Lima and Iquitos in Peru. I also experienced what I thought were crazy cab rides while on my honeymoon in St. Thomas, and on a trip to Hawaii, but I had never seen anything like this. There seemed to be no traffic laws whatsoever, most of the roads would not even be considered roads in America, and our driver had nerves of steel. That is not an exaggeration. At one point during the week I remarked that driving must be considered an extreme sport in Haiti and I know that you could ask any member of our team and they would concur. Once safely inside the store, we grabbed a bite to eat, purchased groceries and journeyed back to the bus. Despite exhaustion caused by being on buses and planes for many, many hours, I found that sleep was elusive. I reasoned with myself that sleep would come once we were settled somewhere for the night and I certainly did not want to miss the sights, so I stayed awake through the long ride.

The countryside of Haiti was absolutely gorgeous and I was pleased that I had stayed awake to enjoy it. The green hills, which rolled right up into the not too distant mountains reminded me of the breathtaking scenery in Hawaii. Palm trees could be seen swaying against the backdrop of a Caribbean sunset, the ocean became visible for a short while, and I began to feel peaceful for the first time in several hours. For a little while I almost forgot that I was in the most impoverished nation in the western hemisphere. Occasionally we would go through a town and see pigs rooting around in piles of trash, or women making charcoal by the side of the road, but after a few hours I began to feel as if I was becoming desensitized to these sights. When we finally arrived in Petite Riviere, I was relieved to be finished with the day’s travel, but more than slightly intimidated by what was to come. For some reason, I felt for a moment that whatever happened over the next few days couldn’t be as difficult as the previous twenty-four hours. However, I remembered having this same thought upon arriving in Iquitos, Peru last July after more than a day of travel, and I was overwhelmingly wrong in both cases. The days to come would prove to be filled with exhaustion of both the physical and emotional kind.

The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul.He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Psalm 23:1-3