365 Days of Team Zybko

Day# 25

02/28/11

Lots going on in my tiny little world. Struggling to keep my head above the scum line. Perishable goods from Sam's on the counter await me. Cheating on my challenge again today with a re-run.

DAY TWO IN HAITI:

STORIES FROM A HAITIAN PALACE

I wake up a bit chilled from beneath the crisp, white sheets. The unfamiliar smell and scratchy feel of the bed forces my mind to jerk quickly awake. What day is it? Where am I? And when did we get a pet rooster? The answers slowly fall from the air, settling onto the hotel pillow around my head. I'm in Haiti. Oh, really? I'm still in Haiti? YES....and it's only day two.

Well Di-Di, this college letter to you has suddenly evolved into a letter addressed to me. A letter to my heart. An expressed mailed letter to my tender soul. A letter worth a thousand lessons in any school.

A letter I will most certainly carry with me for as long as I live.

Before heading out the door I take a self portrait and gather my gear. Like a soldier in the Army, I stuff pockets and arm myself with the necessary items needed for survival. Bible, camera, sunscreen, safe drinking water, journal and a fresh fine tipped sharpie pen. Ok, now I'm ready! I take several deep breaths in, the room smells musty. I can do this! Right? After all, I'm an adventurous kinda of girl. A think outside the bun kinda Soccer Mom. Right? Well, normally I am. But my normal, real life seems a million miles away. Not sure what kinda person I am right now.

Hot Haitian air caresses my face the instant I open the door to my room labeled 108. Palm trees, painted blue skies and the sound of happy birds make me feel like myself again. I sit down comfortably beside my teammates on the freshly mopped, marble like steps. I already feel such a strong bond, like I have known these people my entire life.

Breakfast was delicious. Coffee, strong and black with a serious KICK, just like I like it. Even better than I prepare in my very own kitchen. GOD is GOOD I tell you, right down to the last drop.......of my third cup. The pineapple, mango and cantaloupe so juicy and fresh. Like visiting a sandy white beach with every bite. Filling our bellies and laughing off a Haitian coffee buzz with my new BFF'S. Were we really strangers two days ago?

Mr. Wick jerks us back to reality, he announces to the team, "People! People! Ten minutes until we leave for Church. " Wait, I'm not sure if I wanna go so soon. I panic, feeling like an 8 year old not ready for a spelling test. Maybe I have a stomach ache, a fever, a cough? It's so different outside the security gates of our "Five Star" palace. Can't we stay Dad, just one more cup of joe?
















The dusty security gates open slowly, they seem as reluctant as me
to show us the other side. 1,2,3 we are pushed out into real life. Not MY real life but the people of this island. Their real life. Everything seems to be severely opposite here. No grey ground. No wonder we are a "Circus Freak Show" rolling down the road. Clean, smiley, fed WHITE people in a dusty, desperate, starving BLACK Haiti.




The ten minute commute to the job site leaves the team speechless. Horns, dust, trash and barefoot children behind gated doors everywhere. The streets are in constant motion. What is everyone doing? Where is everyone going? And why are they in such a hurry?
You are either clinging to a scooter going 65 or sitting lifeless under a crowded spot of shade conserving energy.

Someone in the van pokes my shoulder, I audibly gasp as I try to comprehend what I see. Are you kidding me? Is this for real? As my head turns 180 degrees to the left my eyes focus on a unbelievable "screen saver" type picture. Miles of perfect white stones, seemingly put there individually by hand. My eyes follow the "sand" to clear blue-ish green waters, all naturally framed by tall mountains covered in lush green vegetation. I swing my head back to the right. Just in time to witness a woman hiking her torn skirt up to her waist. Squatting to use the beat up road side as a bathroom. Opposites again, fifty feet apart.

We pray in a hurry as we have somehow reached the job site fast this morning. We pray for safety, acceptance, an open mind and heart. We ask that everything we do and say today glorifies your name LORD. I step out of the van, my underwear already soaked. An elderly man with maybe three teeth, smiles and rides on by us on a rundown bike. What is he so happy about? I wave, he waves back with a book in his hand. I squint to read the title before he disappears forever.

NEW TESTAMENT

(We will see him several times a day during the week of our trip. We refer to him as New Testament Guy. He is most definitely my favorite so far. On the last day we find out from a translator he doesn't speak........at all. He only smiles and he loves Jesus. I'm convinced he smiles cause he knows Jesus)

I laugh at myself as we walk the rest of the way to the church. I keep stumbling, my footing wobbly in over sized hiking boots as my feminine flowered skirt is held prisoner between my sweaty legs. (note to self, another opposite) Not such a great look in Florence, SC. but here in Haiti, not a problem. It's liberating not to worry and fuss about clothes or looks here. That's not why we are here. I wonder why I don't feel this way at home?

The Church is already "alive" Praise music with only clapping hands as instruments. Heads turn as the "white people" walk in, smile and try to sing along with love for our same GOD. We are escorted like royalty to the best seats in the house. The only retreat from the fierce sun, shaded by a thrown together roof, a sagging LOWES like blue tarp.

It seems embarrassing to be segregated. I don't want to be treated special. I didn't walk miles with no shoes to get here to worship. I'm sure many haven't eaten or had anything to drink this morning at all. I think of our LAVISH feast. Did I really need 3 cups of coffee? My guilt is getting deep, already waist high. I'm quite certain I will choke to death on my American Culture by the end of this trip.

With the help of a super happy, energetic translator the service begins. He's a little man with a huge contagious smile, somehow making Haiti even brighter. I stare. I listen. I'm mesmerized by his light. A light, I'm positive can only be put there by the LORD himself. I somehow understood his love for GOD even when he speaks Creole.

The pastor's opening lines.

WE ARE HAPPY TO LIVE HERE IN HAITI.

WE ARE LUCKY TO LIVE HERE IN HAITI.

Oh my stars, what is he talking about? Do I have heat stroke? Who on earth would be HAPPY living here?

HERE IN HAITI WE ARE FREE TO WORSHIP AS WE WANT!

Oh! Yes, of course! I knew where he was going with that. I nod my head to let him and others know I agree. I'm lying to myself for sure. Truth is, I've never ever thought that way back in my Church at home. I sometimes sit in Mass on the padded pew thinking it's hot, is the air conditioning broken? I think about the kids making too much noise. I think about whats for lunch. I think about how scratchy my new pants are. Never once have I thought about what a privilege it is to honor GOD with no repercussions. Ashamed of myself,

I quietly and slowly reach down for my bag. I don't want to disturb or offend anyone...BUT I certainly don't want to forget any experience here. I must journal and sneak some pictures. These personal lessons are priceless. I tell myself, over and over again,I must not forget any detail.




They are obviously happy to have us here. Happy to have the help. Happy that we care. Individually we are introduced. We are praised to have given up everything at home to be here. Jobs, kids, school and familiar everyday life. I wonder if they know how much they are teaching us?

In their finest clothes they sit across from us. The relentless sun covering them from head to toe. The children are well behaved and clean. At the end of the service we are hugged and kissed by the grateful strangers. We live and look different but we speak the same language. No words spoken only moist eyes.

sweet girl in white dress with absolutely no stains

View of the ground in back of Church