Glimpses from our last 3 years in Haiti (2000-2003)

Leaving Haiti, June 03

Wou lib! Wou lib! The cry floats on the air as we roll by on the ATV. Young boys run behind us, hoping for a ride, though having nowhere in particular to go. Their toughened bare feet are heedless of the sharp rocks in the road. To ask for a wou lib is to ask for a free ride or lift. Giving a wou lib has another meaning as well. After visiting a Haitian friend in his home, he will give you a wou lib by walking part of the way back with you as you leave. It's a sign of friendship and respect.

In April, the Cayonne church gave us a royal wou lib after Bob preached there for the last time. The Cayonne church is a group of 90 young believers who are hanging tough in a hardened neighborhood, where drug trafficking and usage is the norm. Bob has helped to train three of their leaders, worked with the church committee on difficult issues, and preached there on many Sundays. For a few years, we hiked down the trail each week for me to teach a ladies' Bible study.After the service, the church asked us to stay for a special fête. Each choral group donned their uniforms and sang special numbers in our honor. They are a relatively poor congregation; yet we were given beautiful parting gifts. Then as the rain clouds menaced and the sun drew close to the horizon, we started the climb for home. A group of 20 climbed the hill with us. I had changed into tennis shoes, but some of these ladies climbed the rugged trail in high heels! After arriving at the road on top, they escorted us all the way home! Together we paraded down the road, singing and chanting, arriving at our home at dusk. In the tropics, dusk lasts about 10 minutes! The group did the return 2 ½ miles in the dark. We praised the Lord for this wou lib, displaying their gratefulness to us.

You have also given us a wou lib. I recently read this quote by Judith Dupree: I am carried on the shoulders of those who cannot see the landscape I describe. I owe them far more than my weight. Though a few of you have made the trek to La Tortue, many of you have never seen this landscape. Yet you have consistently prayed for us and supported the work here. You have carried us on your shoulders, and we are grateful.

Walking next to a cliff, Mar 03

The mile-long descent is steep, with a 20-foot drop to one side along one stretch of the trail. My eyes are glued to the narrow path, as I carefully place each step. One slip on loose gravel could result in a bad fall. As always, my prayer as I descend is, "Lord, please don't let our feet slip or our ankles turn." I figure no one is going to be able to carry me back up this hill if I turn an ankle! In my 12 years (and Bob's 14) of hiking the paths on LaTortue, we've never suffered a fall. God is faithful!

Our destination is the Mahé church on the southern coast of the island. Today believers from several churches join us on the trail to this Saturday morning training seminar for Sunday school teachers. Although Bob and I will lend a hand in the teaching, the great news is that we did not plan or sponsor this event. Mahé's new pastor is the principal teacher of the day.By May there will be three seminary graduates working on the island—-one homegrown and two transplants from the mainland.

In addition eight LaTortue men, currently working in six different LaTortue churches, will cross the channel in June to attend their second summer of theological training at LaPointe. Bob will be teaching a three-week course there on the Historical Books of the Bible. Certainly, the need for training and discipleship will never end, but our part in leadership training on LaTortue is rapidly coming to a close. In May the last nine of our 22 Extension Bible School students will graduate.

Fighting for water, Jan 03

Nan Zòl is a busy place these days! Each day people come from as far away as five miles, carrying their buckets and plastic gallon jugs, in order to jostle for the one place where the small stream of water flows from the cleft in the rock. Actually, jostle is too nice of a word. Fights often erupt over whose turn it is to get water.

The Nan Zòl water source is where most people in our area get their water for drinking, washing, cooking, and bathing. Some bathe right at the source while waiting to fill their gallons. Young women walk straight-backed down the steep rocky trail, loads of laundry poised on their heads to wash at the source. Boys lead cattle to drink at the muddy pool that forms near the spring. Donkeys idle nearby, resting before the uphill trek with their makout (straw saddle bags) filled with sloshing buckets and plastic gallons. The constant traffic makes a smelly, muddy bog of most of the area around the source. Young children, as young as six or seven, climb the trail with a two-gallon jug of water perched on their heads. I labor on the incline with no burden to carry!

With such a circus at the water source, many get up at 2 A.M. and walk the trail by moonlight to avoid the crowds and confrontations. The problem with this circus is that it's supposed to have already left town, along with the dry and dusty summer months. Yet here it is mid-December, our normal rainy season. By now most people should be collecting rainwater in either cisterns or buckets as it runs off the roof of their homes. So far this year's rainfall has measured half of what it usually is. Crops planted at the first hint of rain in September, to be harvested after the first of the year, have withered. Those with remaining seed are tilling their gardens by machete and hoe, ready to plant as soon as the rains begin in earnest.

Most conversation focuses on the rising cost of a cup of rice or a bag of beans, as the Haitian dollar continues to devalue. Families that ordinarily live on the edge of hunger are tottering over the precipice. My eyes were opened to a neighbor's plight when she told me her seven-year-old son refused to go to school last week. He said he couldn't go to school because he was too hungry to make it back home. She told him, "You can't expect to eat every day."

Yet there is water of a different kind. For five years now, FM radio station 4VET has been a stream of water, carrying life-giving words to those living in arid Northwest Haiti. Our neighbor, Antony Sanon, has faithfully kept the station on the air, cranking up the generator each morning and evening at five o'clock. He, his sons, and other volunteers from the church, man the control table. They choose the music and mix and monitor the broadcast as others teach the Word. It's a small laidback station with a definite local flavor, but those in our listening audience often write to tell us how they have been encouraged as they wake up and go to sleep with its programs. Callers call in by CB radio on the 5 A.M. program, Manna in the Morning (10-4 Good Buddy!). Most popular is the half-hour prayer time at the end of the day, where people write in their requests and hear them mentioned in prayer before the Lord. Although Bob and I have our regular weekly programs, we've been pleased to see that the station functions independently of us. Pray that it's programs will continue to nourish others in Christ.

The GATE, Mar 02

The GATE. Mere rotting wood and rusty nails, the GATE is the thin boundary separating our rocky yard and the rocky dirt road beyond. It is our point of contact with the community. Our task on LaTortue is to train leaders for the churches. But all tasks here are done in the context of the community in which we live. In such a poor country as Haiti, the community views us as wealthy (and so we are in the LORD). Individuals often come to us with requests.Those on friendly terms with our dog come directly to our door. Others must get our attention by banging on the boards of the GATE with a rock (there being no shortage of rocks on LaTortue). If we are busy, we may be slow to answer. Most of those knocking follow Churchill's admonition: Never, never, never, never give up!

The knocking begins as the sun rises over the hills and sometimes continues after dark. Mealtimes are sure to be interrupted. Rush hour comes at dusk as people are returning from gathering their animals from the field or working in the garden. We have no answering machine or caller ID to screen the calls (other than looking out the window). Bob and I share the load of answering the GATE. (It's your turn sweetie!)The requests vary. Early in the morning a young girl knocks, hoping to sell me bananas from the tray atop her head. Later, an elderly neighbor stops by for me to check her blood pressure. Mothers come carrying babies with fever, rashes, and runny noses. Young men come sporting cuts from machetes, or scrapes from a recent bike crash. The frantic call "pa gen fren!" (no brakes) is often heard as a biker careens down the hill.

Because there is basic medical care available, two miles down the road, I've been able to avoid turning our home into a clinic. However, there is no way to see a doctor or nurse without money in hand—a luxury many here do not have. So, to demonstrate Christ's love, I give out health advice from the front porch and a few basic supplies (Band-Aids, ointments, and simple medicines for relief of pain and fever).

People also come to the GATE asking for money or food. (I have 13 children at home. My husband left us. We haven't eaten in 2 days.--- My mom is in the hospital. I have no money to buy the medicine she needs.) Such requests we try to channel through the local church. We have proven too gullible, believing stories we later find to be untrue. Often people knock to purchase Bibles. Thanks to your gifts, we are able to keep a stock of Haitian Créole Bibles on hand, and sell them at an affordable (subsidized) price.

Is there ever a convenient time for an interruption? The knocks often come as I'm cooking food on the stove or cooking up a Bible lesson. The frequency of knocks varies from day to day. I've noticed a direct correlation between the number of knocks on the GATE and the level of impatience in my voice as I respond. (Ah, how the GATE reveals our weaknesses!) As a much-needed reminder, I placed a small slip of paper near the door with suggestions from an article on life-style evangelism: 1. Take people seriously. 2. Express genuine concern for their needs. 3. Always listen with love. 4. At God-appointed moments, tell about Jesus.

Rain, rain, go away! May 01

This is not rainy season! I keep repeating this to myself as the fine blowing rain turns into a downpour. The dull roar of rain on our tin roof mutes all other sounds. Thunder growls in the distance as white mist shrouds our home. Clothes washed two days ago hang damp and limp across a wooden rack. Mold and mildew are taking over! We've had more than 13 inches of rain in the last two weeks.

A friend from Virginia came to visit us last week. She waited three days before the weather cleared enough for her to cross the channel. The Lord drew the cloud curtain back long enough to allow us to introduce her to our mud-splattered existence. Two days later she left, and the rain returned.

Church folks are trying to gear up for the annual Harvest Festival this week, but the rain keeps interfering. Services have been rained out. The bright Caribbean-blue paint is still in the buckets, waiting to spruce up the church. Schools close. Boats don't sail. The outdoor market becomes a mud pit. However, the local bakeries do great business. It's too wet for cooking fires; so more people buy bread. Vendors carry tin washtubs full of bread on their heads, clanging the handles to announce their passing.

As long as the lightning is not close enough to fry the antenna, 4VET stays on the air with its usual programming. Faithful Mme Davilma signs off each evening after her half-hour prayer program. Her husband picked her up tonight on his motorcycle. He drove, and she held a large umbrella over them.

NOISE!!!, Mar 01

The 4 A.M. trumpet pulls us from a sound sleep, calling our neighbors to early morning prayer. I nestle deeper into my pillow. (Now, don't get me wrong! I'm all for prayer. Our lives depend on it! But I don't pray well at 4 A.M., in the dark, in another language.) However, those few extra winks elude me. Now, from the opposite direction, comes a crescendo of singing as a group from another church jogs by our home. As they pass by, the leader preaches with a megaphone. It's a favorite form of evangelism here—running down the road by moonlight at 4 A.M., singing choruses and preaching. The idea is to catch everybody still in bed—-a captive audience more or less. I'm a bit skeptical of how well the gospel is received when blasted by a megaphone at 4 A.M. But then, as already noted, I'm just not a 4 A.M. person.

As the singing fades in the distance, John Tess is up and clearing his throat. He sleeps at the radio station, to thwart thievery. John Tess loves to sing at the top of his voice. (He also loves microphones, but we try to keep him away from those.) This morning his nasal voice leads the small band of prayer warriors gathered inside the church next door. Blending with the singing is the sound of dogs barking, donkeys braying, and roosters crowing.

Our neighbor across the street has 15 fighting roosters. Cockfighting is a popular sport, involving gambling and voodoo rituals. Added to the barking, braying, and crowing is the metallic thump of my dog's tail against the iron grillwork covering the window. That's his plea for me to get up and feed him. Noise!! Haiti is a noisy place. Anytime you pack in over 600 people per square mile the result is noise, especially in a society that lives outdoors.

In the growing light, people call out greetings to each other as they walk down the road. Old Brother May trudges slowly by, going to his garden, loudly denouncing the faults and rudeness of the younger generation. He'll repeat this litany as he returns home in afternoon. Small motor scooters, devoid of mufflers—-the local taxis—-roar past him and then slow, their engines complaining as they climb the hill.

As the sun rises higher, so do the decibels emanating from our neighbor's radio. He originally put a half-mile hailer up on his roof, so the whole community could enjoy his radio. However, after a year of coaxing and prayer, he took it down. The radio blares now from inside his roadside store.

Since everyone else is being noisy, we contribute as well—-broadcasting a joyful noise to the Lord on the church's FM radio station, 4VET—The Evangelical Noise (Oops! I mean Voice.) of La Tortue. The station operates seven hours a day, and celebrates its 3rd birthday on April 12! After three years, we continue to get feedback from many areas that the broadcasts are meeting needs for solid Bible teaching and encouragement through prayer. Radios are common in spite of the poverty. The poorest man, sleeping on a straw mat, may have a Walkman under his pillow!

By early afternoon, the students in the nearby professional school are warming up their trumpets for music class. As beginners, their efforts are barely distinguishable from those of the unhappy cow tied on the hillside behind our house. The notes warble across the ravine, to be answered from the opposite hilltop by school children rhythmically reciting their lessons at the church school.

This time of year the wind blowing in from the Atlantic Ocean provides constant background music of swishing palm branches.Continuing into the night, the wind howls around the house and then suddenly dies down around midnight. The beat of voodoo drums in the distance fills in the void. Another all night voodoo ceremony is in progress, as those without the Lord seek peace, prosperity, and protection in all the wrong places.

By the way, you may have heard a strange noise in January. It was Bob, shouting for joy, at the annual assembly of UEBH churches. There five La Tortue preaching points officially became churches, fulfilling the La Tortue 2000 plan envisioned nine years earlier. We now have eight UEBH churches on the island.

When Haitians pray in church it's not unusual for everyone to pray aloud at the same time. I often wonder how this cacophony sounds to God; but I'm sure that, unlike me, He distinguishes each and every petition. Throughout the states, there are many of you praying for us continually. Don't stop! God hears and is blessing the work in Haiti in response. Though we may not always be at ease in this noisy culture, we rejoice to be a small part of what God is doing in the world.

Thug roadblock, Nov 00

Astride our ATV, we alternately splash through mud and rumble over sharp rocks on the road to O'Plen. Jolting along, I remind myself that people in the states do this kind of thing for fun! Today bright flutters of orange grace our path. The monarch butterflies are migrating south. Their orange wings contrast with the dark green branches reaching out to us from both sides of the road. Their beauty is a gentle reminder to me of God's presence.

We need that reminder today! After a last minute flurry of answering knocks on the gate and fielding requests, we left home later than usual in a "grouchy" mood. A mile farther down the road we were stopped by a fallen tree. Actually, as it fell the huge old tree had left an archway over the road—passable if we ducked. However, the young men chopping away at its branches this morning blocked our path and demanded money for passage. (They were obviously unconcerned that we were already in a mood!) We rarely carry money when travelling and today is no exception. After enduring some unpleasant rhetoric, we were allowed to pass. Still, the experience was frustrating. So the monarchs today are a welcome reminder that we are beloved children of the One and Only True Monarch.

Each week we trek to O'Plen where four students await our Bible school class. They are all leaders in their churches—well worth the rough trip out. My class is first, to give Bob a rest after wrestling with the ATV. Later, as Bob takes over, I move on to a small group of ladies from the O'Plen church that meets weekly for Bible study. Unfortunately, we can't seem to gather a quorum today. Heavy rains the past two days have sent the women scurrying to plant beans in their gardens and wash their laundry, both necessary tasks after a hard rain in November.So, instead of teaching, I sit and listen to stories of the "old days" from the grandmother of the family whose home we use as our school. Her name is Madame Dimèsi (Say Thanks). And that is what she does! Tall, and too thin from recent illness, she has had a difficult life. Her husband left her long ago. He also left the eight children for her to raise by herself. Yet, she recounts to me how God has been gracious and faithful to her through the years! (What do I have to be grouchy about?!)

A day in Haiti, Mar 00
The light in our living room blazes on earlier than usual, shining into our bedroom and disturbing my dreams. The light serves as our alarm clock, being connected to the radio station generator. The station begins airing at 5 AM each day. Bob likes to get up then to hear the sports scores on ham radio and then begin a time of prayer (priorities!). But this morning is dark and cloudy, and we pull the covers closer and snooze a little longer until the snooze alarm comes on.

The snooze alarm is Saintilia, a local lady with mental problems. Lately, she has taken to pacing the road in front of our house each morning before sunrise loudly denouncing the evils of the world and singing. She sings the same song each day. Today, as I roll over to get up, I decide I need to teach her a new song. So begins our day. Bob is already pacing and praying as I pull on my jogging clothes. I read my Bible as I wait for the sun to rise enough so I can evade the rocks in the road and the mud puddles from last night's rain. Normally, we start out together, but today I go alone. Bob has a 7 AM radio broadcast on 4VET, a study in the book of Acts. I don't know how he can be so animated at 7 AM!

As I pass, I greet my neighbors who are sweeping the dirt road in front of their homes and tending their cooking fires. Ladies are walking to market with basins full of goods balanced on their heads. One balances a large basin full of second hand shoes, another sacks of sugar and cornmeal. Today's market is 3 miles from here.

It's Tuesday--the only day I have no class or Bible study to teach. It's a day to prepare. A health lesson and Bible study are awaiting my attention. But after breakfast, the siren call, "Men poul la! (Here's chicken!)", pulls me out to the road with a ziplock bag in one hand and 100 gourdes (that's money) in the other. The chicken lady is passing by with her large blue and white cooler on her head. God's grace, and the preferences of American diners for white meat, have made chicken legs available to me in Haiti! Detecting no offending odors or greenish hue, I purchase a bag full of chicken legs. Madame David will be here later to cook lunch.

To get things going I begin boiling the chicken legs, next to a pot of homemade dog food, next to a pot of pumpkin soup (to feed visitors from Port-au-Prince expected later). At the same time I begin making brownies, but every egg I crack has gone bad. Finally, I find enough good eggs, pick the ants out of the sugar, sift the weevils out of the flour, and just as I'm ready to stir, I hear a plaintive cry for help from the porch.

It's Bob, having trouble with the refrigerant used to charge our ailing refrigerator. Some leak we can't locate, and don't have the equipment to fix, has necessitated a weekly charge of refrigerant. Today the octopus of hoses and gauges isn't doing its job. Bob hates it when things break down. There are no servicemen who make housecalls to La Tortue! I try to be philosophical about our dying refrigerator. Obviously, God is more interested in shaping our character than providing us with cold food storage. After 15 years in Haiti, we still need lessons in handling frustration gracefully.

Did I tell you this is wash day as well? While juggling the brownies and 3 pots of food on the stove and helping Bob, I gathered the wash for Madame Wilson. She sits in our depot and washes all of our clothes by hand in 5-gallon buckets and then hangs them on the line. It takes about 5 hours! Her patient smile brightens my day. Because of Madame David and Madame Wilson, I have time available to get out and teach the Word.

Time to prepare those lessons is, however, another matter! First, I take a bowl of milk to the 5 hungry puppies next door, sired by my hungry dog. Then the familiar sound of a rock banging on our wooden gate lets me know someone needs Tylenol for a headache; followed by a young lady with a swollen jaw and itchy skin and "what can I do for her?"; followed by a chat with our pastor's wife, Madame Aine, about a mutual friend who needs surgery. The surgery has to be paid for in advance before they'll do it.

In the early afternoon, Bob returns from helping a neighbor install his new propane stove (no more charcoal fires for them!), and we cross the road to share a cold Coke. Our neighbor across the road has a tiny store and a newly opened "restaurant" with two tables and four chairs. Business is booming. Today's special is chicken legs!

The beep of a horn and dull roar of a 4x4 truck pulling up the hill from the coast mean that our visitors have arrived. The road to the coast, about 3 miles long, is in the final stages of completion after 5 years of intermittent work by pick and shovel. Trucks have just started using it. There are about 7 vehicles now on the island. Soon we'll be having traffic jams! We have supper with Madame Aine and the two men, who are from the Compassion International office in Port-au-Prince. We share laughter over some of our island "characters" and commiserate over the rigors of traveling to get here.

From 5-8 PM, station 4VET is back on the air, broadcasting music and Bible teaching and giving us electricity. Now we can check our e-mail. Because it operates by radio frequency instead of a phone line, our e-mail system is a bit touchy. If you try to send us pictures, it blocks the whole system. Overly long letters can be a problem too, taking forever to receive. Any little glitch in transmission means we have to start over from scratch. However, e-mail is a wonderful thing for us. Regular mail takes 2-4 weeks. By 9 PM I am ready to hit the hay, resolved to carve out some time tomorrow to prepare those lessons. But first there will be breakfast to fix for the visitors, followed by feeding the puppies, and there are the lizards to chase out of our outhouse, and. . .zzzzzz.