While the children of Haiti regularly caught my eye with their energy, innocence, play, and curiosity (I took more pictures of children than anything else!), the elderly of Haiti also struck an interest within me. There was typically an air of experience and wisdom surrounding them as you watched him. But watch closer and a whole range of emotion would become evident. Laughter and jokes were commonplace. However, so was a bit of skepticism.

Much can be learned from those of age in Haiti. They tended to be guarded around stranger and kin alike. Unlike children, youth, and younger adults, the elderly preferred to observe from a distance rather than run up to you for engagement in coversation or play. However, once approached, their eyes lit up and their eagerness to communicate was quite evident.

If the children reminded us of the hope and exuberance of all children, and the youth taught us about the resentment and bitterness they eventually take on, then the elderly showed us a remarkable endurance and peace that withstood an entire lifetime of poverty, injustice, opression, and lawlessness.

The following are some snapshots of Haiti's older population. I'm more than grateful to have taken these pictures, as many I approached refused to have their picture taken.



Jackson Nelson--Jackson is an extraordinary man. The former mayor of Ferrier, he currently runs the World Hunger Farm there. His reputation in northern Haiti is very respected, and its easy to see why with the way he takes in poorer children to live with him and go to school somewhere. Jackson is about as soft-spoken as one can get. But in watching him talk with his companions, family, and workers, you notice that he constantly and quietly provides stories and comments that keeps everyone laughing.


Above, Jackson's father...another extraordinary man. He quietly tends his business, getting up every morning before most of the town to work in his garden. His usual greeting for everyone includes a huge smile that swallows up his eyes. Below, is his front yard, complete with a playground for the neighboring children. What playground, you ask? Why, the old John Deere tractor of course! (A typical scene in much of Haiti...many well-meaning Americans send nice equipment and supplies to Haiti, such as this tractor. You look throughout Ferrier, and there are about a dozen broken down John Deere tractors similar to this one. Like I said, they were given as gifts a few years ago, only to be abandoned once they break down...often only needing a $12 part.)







One of the ladies who made dozens of trips during the work, carrying cinder blocks, buckets of water, and food on her head to help in whatever way possible.


This gentleman worked as hard as anyone on the school while we were there. Seemed as if he was always mixing cement or laying brick. Here, at the end of a long day's work, he sits and laughs nonstop for about 45 minutes as the children are taught "the chicken dance" and "the hokie pokie".

Upon arrival into the port city of Cap Haitien, we travelled a short distance to our host's house for a quick lunch of eggs, banana, and papaya. Looking around the room we were in (which was strikingly similar to an unfinished basement one might find here in the States), I often noticed sets of eyes peering in through holes in the wall.

Many of them shouted "Blanc! Blanc!" Which literally means "White! White!". However, this is a term used for virtually anybody who isn't Haitian.) Others asked for a dollar or a Coke. But then another, the boy in this picture, just stood and stared.

His friends eventually grew tired or bored of watching the Blancs eat and sit uneasily, so they continued on down the alley. My group actually never even looked back to notice the audience that had quickly gathered. However, my nameless friend and I sat fixed on each other for several minutes...even shaking hands through that tiny hole at one point.

We spoke nary a word to one another. Nonetheless, if nothing else, we connected as two beings curious about what was on the other side of the wall. My friend was, no doubt, interested in observing and seeing what exactly these new visitors looked, acted, and sounded like. Perhaps I was interested in the mannerisms of my counterparts as well. But more than that, from the opposite side of the wall, I wanted to lose myself in a culture that already captured my heart and my imagination years earlier. However, for the time being, we let the wall protect us from the unknown.

I never saw my friend again after those brief minutes. I'm sure he had an interesting story to tell his friends for the remainder of that day.

I feel as if part of me is still behind that wall. Curious. Anxious. Wanting badly to run through the streets with a ball at my foot. Longing to sit in the shade with my neighbors and master the art of conversation--Creole style. Finding a community beyond my wall.

On this Easter Sunday Faith and I have been asked to speak briefly at church about our short experience in Haiti. This will undoubtedly be a frustrating experience for us because 1. we haven't decided on what we want to say! and 2. we don't feel like a 5 minute talk does any justice to the experience, to Haiti, or to our church.

Regardless, the time will come to open our mouths, so when it does I'll likely say something similar to the following:

Faith and I have been asked a few times after our trip to Haiti about the business of "saving souls". The questions usually sound something like "How many souls did you save?" or "Did anyone get saved?" Our response generally is that this wasn't a "mission" trip per say, it was more of an "exposure" trip where we as the comfortable, food-in-our-belly, money-in-our-pockets, cable-in-our-homes Americans got to see what that particular culture is like.

However, what I personally discovered on the trip, is that if anyone got saved, it was me. The Haitians already know about Christ. Over the past couple hundred years, we've introduced Jesus and, sometimes, polluted their culture with our way of church. But nonetheless, a good and growing portion of Haiti are believers. In fact, they probably have a better understanding of Christ than I do! The Beatitudes are practically a declaration of behalf of those who suffer! Christ spent most of his time with the poor, the sick, and the hungry. Yes, he at times dined with the rich. (See Zaccheus.) BUT, afterwards, their lives were often left turned inside-out and upside-down.

Thus, I'm left with the undeniable fact that Christ is known more to most Haitians than to me. As I sit and reflect on this Ressurection Sunday, it hits me that there's probably one aspect of Jesus in which Haiti may not know fully--Christ risen. If my Haitian brothers and sisters have trouble grasping anything about our Lord and Savior, it is that he was resurrected on this day. For with his resurrection, came his eventual ascension, which leads to Pentecost--the coming of the Holy Spirit. And with the Holy Spirit, which is promised to all believers, comes a power that can change hearts, lives, families, communities, cities, countries, and even the world. What positive change has Haiti seen? Can an honest answer be made for the poorest country in the western hemisphere? So, if there's any part of Christ that LaCharit, Conel, Jordany, or Wesners may not grasp, understand, or accept, then it's probably that of Christ risen from the dead.

What will it take for our risen Christ to be evident in Haiti?

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I had a particular eye for children while in Haiti. Here's a good handful of some of my favorite shots. I like to think of these as the "hope" of Haiti. These generations will be growing up without the firsthand knowledge of the brutality of the dictators of the 20th century. So hope lies in these children, as there aren't yet a set of scars to overcome.

(Don't forget you can click on the picture for a better view.)


The little boy on the right was practically my shadow all week. He tried to teach me a version of marbles, and how to build a house out of sticks. He rarely spoke, and he didn't understand my Americanized Creole, as hard as that may sound...so I never could figure out how to pronounce his name. Nonetheless we had a grand ole time together.


Those are lemons believe it or not. That little girl ran to the road to try to sell us some when she heard the loud white people coming by. Defintely one of my favorite pictures.



A four month old we were able to hold at one of the local orphanages.








Faith's friend, Jordany, reading to her out of her Essentials of Comparative Politics textbook. Don't ask.














There's a striking difference from childhood to adolescence in Haiti. The children, as are most children, are all full of energy, play, and laughter. However, many teens become very unhappy, dissatisfied, and seemingly angry. Our two friends here were generally carefree most of the time, but you could see a change occurring.


Thanks to a gift from friend, Randall, from church, I was able to take a handful of kites...and boy did the Haitians boys have a lot to teach me about flying kites!!!



(I'm the one in the hat.)



Apparently, "London Bridge" wasn't a smash hit, so these girls were trying to give Faith a lesson or two.


Could anyone be more happy and devious at the same time? :)

To watch a Haitian, man, woman, or child, was to watch art personified. They were artists as well as artisans. Without the pollution of television, electricity, internet, local Wal-Marts, and even air conditioning, the people of Haiti skillfully construct masterpieces out of their work, play, rest, and conversations.

Observing the men work at building houses, drilling wells, or mixing cement with extraordinary ease and rhythym, I got the perception that those arduous and complex tasks were merely hobbies.

Watching the children play marbles or soccer convinced me that they had to have invented these past-times and were perfecting them right there on the spot.

Getting lost in the diverse expressions, tones, and flows of their every conversation was as if I were sitting next to artists constructing a beautiful tapestry right before me.

The following photos are of Haitian hands and feet at work and at play. My hope is that your imagination instantly takes you down to Ferrier to recreate and meet these artists and artisans at work.


Can you guess what game this is?


Here's another trivia-photo: If you can tell me what Conel is doing in these two photos with his hands, I'll send you some of this flu that I have.








This scene immediately caught my eye at a local soccer match. These were teammates waiting to play, but, without proper equipment, were looking for comfortable footwear to wear onto the field.


This was a typical scene throughout the country. I would say three-fourth's of the people in the region where we stayed went barefoot most of the time. They would walk through thorn and across gravel, play soccer, construct buildings, dig wells, and even crush tarantulas with their bare feet. However, over the years they've heard that white Americans go back to the U.S. and tell everyone that Haitians all go around barefoot (not unlike what I'm doing now I suppose), so whenever we'd walk down the street we'd witness mothers calling their naked children back indoors so they could put some makeshift sandals on them.


One of our companions, Analis, making bread for us on our last night by candlelight.


This was a comforting scene. As it turns out, public displays of affection between man and wife is never shown in Haiti. So as we walked home from church, it was nice to see the elderly-est of couples breaking the social norm.


One of my favorite pictures of all the trip. The color of a beautiful people against the color of a beautiful country.


Mmmmm, sugar cane!!! In the states, my weakness...my kryptonite...my achilles heel is sweet tea. I go through 1-2 gallons each week! (So much so, that my dentist told me I need to ease up on the tea or else my teeth are gonna' stain permanently.) Anyways, in Haiti, I found my equivalent to sweet tea. Sugar cane. Gosh that stuff's good. You just chew on it like cud and it releases all these sweet watermelon-like juices in your mouth.

Pardon my absence these past couple of days. Faith and I have come down with fevers, aches, and chills so we've been bed-bound most of the past 24 hours. Fortunately, the fever seems to be subsiding for the moment so I may be able to return to work tomorrow.

As I've been in bed and out of work, my memory takes me back to Hispaniola. The luxury of having paid sick-leave is an unheard of concept in Haiti--for to miss work, means to miss your next meal or two. The Haitian work ethic is nothing short of phenomenal. They have a strength and a steadiness that puts most Americans to shame. So on this day when I get to skip work due to illness, here is a sampling of Haitians at work.

(Above and below) Ladies who are carrying dozens of egg cartons on their head. How they never broke an egg escapes me! Twice a week, the Dominican Republic opens up its borders and allows Haitians to cross over and buy food and supplies. As generous as this sounds of the DR, it can actually do more harm than good to Haiti.

Thoma, our translator for the week, and I adding block to the school's new latrine.








Faith's friend, Jordany, picking tomatoes for lunch.



Conel, LaCharit, and I working on a new well in town.





Yea, that's cinder block. And yea, he's making that by hand.


Some of the ladies filling up 5-gallon buckets full of water (in case you were wondering, that's between 40 and 50 lbs!) After filling the buckets, they would carry them down a hill on their head in order to help mix the cement needed for the cinder blocks.

The flight across the U.S., the hotel stay in Florida, and the final leg of our trek to Haiti by air left us all feeling quite a bit queasy. However, after 2 hours of flying over the Caribbean, my heart began to race and dance upon first glimpse of the mountains of Haiti! It was as if I had been away from home for the past 4 years and only now was finally returning. (And this was even before experiencing the absolute joy that is the culture and people of Haiti!)

So to provide a bit of a hint as to what this natural beauty is, as well as a tease before getting into the meat of our journey, here are a few photos.




Hibiscus that has managed to sprout up in between two huts. An offering of life in between dwellings of despair.





A portion of an enormous palace at the bottom of a mountain...

...and the fortress at the top!



Mmmm, banana!


Wesners the Haitian, Joel the Texan, and the Dowdy's

The photos thus far do nothing to justify my heart's longing for Haiti. As the days and weeks unfold, I'll make the attempt, albeit a likely feeble one, to show and tell the people and culture that have caught my eye, captured my heart, and called me back.