My Life Changing Visit To Haiti

By: Christa Pettis

It has been a week since I returned home from Haiti. To say that my volunteer experience was life-changing would be cliché. But it would also be true. I deeply admire the resiliency, tenacity and ingenuity of the Haitian people, as well as their desire to continue on with life despite seemingly insurmountable challenges. They have inspired me to live more with less.

In some ways, I have found it difficult to explain the magnitude and complexity of my experience to people who were not there and have never been to Haiti. So I hope my journal excerpts and photographs allow greater insight into the events that shaped my experience in Léogâne. I should note that there are many details that I have decided not to include. I believe there’s a fine line between relaying the reality of my experience while preserving the dignity and humanity of the people; something I think the media sometimes fail to do.

March 2, 2010

Leogane, Haiti

Descending into Haiti, I was instantly captivated by the mountains. I know that Haiti is a mountainous country, but I wasn’t expecting mountains like these. They’re huge. They’re the only thing you can see out of the windows; until you get closer to Port-au-Prince. Then you start to see the hillside communities. And the tents and tarps. Lots of tents and tarps. Right outside the airport was chaotic. People everywhere, vying for your bags. Children and adults begging for money. “My sista, please. Sista.” I felt my body tense from sensory overload. The stifling heat. The cacophony of voices speaking in Creole, French and broken English. The dust and smoke causing my eyes to burn. The smell of diesel fuel and burning trash. I just wanted to get out of there. Three people and 10 bags piled into an old, four door Toyota. We made our way onto the streets of PAP. We drove by the Presidential Palace. There were pancaked buildings and rubble everywhere. Everywhere. Didn’t look like there’d been any effort to remove it. Big difference between seeing it firsthand versus on TV. The destruction was visible all the way to Léogâne. It didn’t look like any area was spared.

March 3, 2010

Someone yelled “quake” early this morning. There was an aftershock. I ripped through my mosquito net to stumble to the uncovered courtyard. It was impossible to go back to sleep after that. The sounds of cows, goats and dogs fighting didn’t help either. At least I got to go to the roof and watch the sunrise.

My Broken Net

I made it through my first day of work. Barely. I’ve never worked so hard in my life…shoveling and pushing a wheelbarrow loaded with rubble in the intense heat. I knew it would be hard, but not that hard. As I was clearing rubble, I came across the school papers of someone that lived there. I picked them up and just stared at them. I wasn’t just clearing away rubble, I was clearing away someone’s life.

The rubble up close was unreal

IDP campers are singing religious songs. Meanwhile volunteers are less than 10 feet away at the newly opened bar next door. Something about it doesn’t sit right with me. It seems insensitive to go out drinking and dancing directly in front of the camp. But maybe it’s just me because it seems that everyone else at the base is over at the bar having a beer or rum.

March 4, 2010

My New Friend

I’m sitting on the roof overlooking the IDP camp. Children from below call my name. I can’t believe they remember my name. I feel bad for not remembering theirs. I saw many of the same kids I saw yesterday. We continued to communicate as best we could, playing our own version of charades to understand one another. I saw the prettiest little dark-skinned girl. She had the most beautiful coffee-colored skin. She had on a nice white dress. She wanted to push the wheelbarrow, but I told her no, her dress was too pretty…and white. I asked someone who spoke Creole to tell her that so she didn’t think I was being mean. She held on to me so tight when we took a picture together. I later saw her mother and younger brother. I was able to tell the mother in French that I thought her daughter was beautiful. I had a nice conversation with an eleven year old. He reminds me of my oldest nephew. He spoke a little English. It was very nice to be able to speak with him to learn a little about him. I can see him and his sister from the rooftop now. The kids were so eager to help at the site. Because many of them didn’t have on shoes, the ones who did had on sandals, I started picking up some of the glass around the site. Wanting to help, the kids started picking up glass too and giving it to me. I asked the volunteer who spoke Creole to ask them to stop because I was afraid they would cut themselves. They looked disappointed that they couldn’t help. So I found something else for them to help me with. I don’t think rubble removal is for me. I want to be out and about in the community figuring out how to help people. I mean help people help themselves long-term. What good is clearing rubble if people can’t afford to rebuild? Or can’t feed their family? Or can’t pay school tuition? Or can’t receive medical care? The people, the children, deserve so much better. The problems here are so overwhelming it seems. Where do you begin?

March 5, 2010

I’m working at a new site today. The shelters these families are living in are unbelievable. There are basically sticks in the ground with sheets for walls and a roof. They’ve requested that we place the rubble inside of their shelters to make a floor so they aren’t sleeping directly on the ground. Instead they’ll sleep directly on rocks and broken concrete. There was a very large, intimidating woman who kept asking me to deliver rubble to her shelters. Twice I told her no because someone else had already asked. The third time I saw her, she had a switch in her hand. I assumed the switch was for one of her children, but just in case, I took her my next two loads of rubble. There were way more kids on today’s site than the other one. They, along with a few of the adults, were pitching in to help. There was a group of teen girls sitting in the shade. In an effort to break the ice with them, I removed a few of my three strand twists from under my scarf to show them that my hair was styled similarly to theirs. A mini photo shoot, singing and dancing soon followed. I had so much fun with them. This afternoon, I met three guys: Son-Son, Azor and Junior. They all spoke English and decided that I needed to learn Creole. They taught me a lot of phrases and we just kept repeating them over and over again. I think I did pretty well. Son-Son informed me that he is a champion chess player. His chess club was destroyed in the earthquake, so he hasn’t been able to practice. He asked me if I could help him get a job because he didn’t want to be a drug dealer…as if those are his only two options. One of the girls, Doun, turns 15 on Saturday. As a birthday present, I gave her my pearl earrings. We aren’t supposed to give them anything if we don’t have enough for all of them, but I couldn’t help it. She had the biggest smile on her face. She ran to show her mom. I don’t really know her, but I pray that she does well in life.

March 6, 2010

I had to take a break from doing rubble today. Instead, I went to the marché with the cook, Venus and Richardson, a volunteer/translator. I’m not sure what I was expecting the marché to be, but I was totally surprised by what I saw. Once I got over the shock of it, I found it quite interesting. There were lots of people buying and selling food, clothes and personal hygiene products. It’s customary to bargain, so it was fun to see Venus and Richardson bargain over the price of various fruits and vegetables. There was a huge rubbish pile in the center of the market, with pigs, goats and dogs poking around for food.

There were flies EVERYWHERE. Including on the meat. After dropping off Venus and the items from the market, Richardson and I set out to find items for the play date with kids in the IDP camp later that afternoon. I could not believe how difficult it was to find paper and pencils. We drove around to several places and randomly spotted someone selling notebooks, pencils, pens and markers on the side of the road. Finding a ball proved to be even more difficult. We were finally able to find a used basketball at what can be best described as a flea market. We went to the field out back to play with the kids. It was estimated that there were over 100 kids there. We had several “play stations” set up. I led the drawing station. All of the kids had so much fun drawing pictures. They were so proud to show me and the adults with them their work. I made sure to carefully remove each drawing from the notebooks so the kids could take their pictures home. I can’t wait to do it again.

March 7, 2010

Jacksonville Beach

Today was my day off, so I organized a trip to Jacksonville Beach. The drive to the beach was very scenic in some areas. The beach itself was nice, despite the trash and the earthquake damaged structures at the beach’s entrance. The sand was black, which I’ve never seen before, so that was a pleasant surprise. It was nice to just relax and do nothing for a few hours. I bought a few souvenirs carved from stone from a guy on the beach. I’m sure I overpaid, but it didn’t matter. Doun came to see me in the afternoon. She had on the pearl earrings. It was my first time seeing her in them, and she looked beautiful. I also saw Son-Son, Junior and a few other people I’ve met as I walked to get a soda. It’s nice to see people in the community and stop and chat with them for a bit. Sometimes in the States, I feel like I’m living in a bubble and it seems that we’re all invisible to one another. Not so here. Léogâne has an old school community feel.

March 8, 2010

I went back to rubble removal today. My energy was zapped within the first hour of work. The sun was relentless and intense. And it just got more intense as the day wore on. The site was near a sugar cane field so there was no escaping the sun. I was grateful for the occasional ocean breeze. We could actually see the ocean from the site. While we were working, a boy who looked to be in his teens came to the site and was pleading for help. There was a girl in a small village nearby that was sick. Not knowing exactly what was wrong with the girl, the team leader asked me and another volunteer to go see if there was anything we could do to help the girl. We grabbed the first aid kit and followed the boy to the location. Doun was at the site, so she also came with us. There was a crowd of people in front of the girls house. They moved to the side to let us through, and that’s when I saw her.

She was laying on the floor of the house nearly nude and bleeding from her ears. She appeared to be going in and out of consciousness. Obviously I’m not a doctor, but it doesn’t take one to know that if blood is coming out of someone’s ears, they are bleeding internally. We told the boy who led us there that she needed to get to a hospital immediately and asked if there was a car that could take her. All they had was access to a motorcycle. So they gathered the girls limp body and took her to the hospital on the back of a motorcycle. I didn’t know for sure what would happen to her, but it was doubtful in my mind that she’d live. And so, I just lost it. The emotional toll of nearly a week in Haiti culminated in that one moment. Doun was so sweet to try to console me. In the afternoon, Katia, Doun’s younger sister, cut sugar cane for me. It was my first time eating it, and it was so good. I’d never eat any kind of sweets if I had access to raw sugar cane in the States. Doun brought a very worn sheet of English words and phrases to the site, and I helped her and some other girls practice their English pronunciation. And they helped me with Creole.

March 9, 2010

After working in yesterday’s unyielding sun and because of the incident with the injured girl, I decided to work at the base today. I signed up for house cleaning. It’s only supposed to take half a day, but it took me and the other volunteer the whole day. I realize that the volunteers should be responsible for the space in which they live, but I also feel like house cleaning could have been a job for someone in the community. Actually the volunteer work we’re doing could be jobs for the community. The money that we all paid for plane tickets and supplies would have gone a long way to pay daily wages to people who want and need work. I’m sure what we’re doing is appreciated, people have said as much, but sometimes I just wonder if we’re really helping or in some ways contributing to the problem. Despite the poverty and the political corruption, this is a beautiful place. There is a simplicity to life here that I enjoy…an appreciation for life. I heard one of the volunteers say that felt sorry for the people here. I don’t. In some ways, I envy the lives they lead. But I do think they deserve better.

March 10, 2010

I worked at the base again today. I helped cut, fold and tie tarps for Oxfam. The tarps will be distributed to families for the rainy season. I need to get back out into the community, but the sun has been too intense the last few days, and I’m operating with very little fuel. I’m pretty sure I’m eating less than 1,000 calories a day. Probably 500-800. I don’t know how many more meals of rice and beans or spaghetti I can take. I guess I don’t really have a choice though. At least I have something to eat. I went up to the rooftop like I do every night. I love looking at the stars and enjoy the light evening breezes. There was a group in the center of the camp clapping and singing praise songs. They were being slightly drowned out by the Haitian rap music playing at the bar…the bar catering to the American volunteers.

March 12, 2010

I was so sick yesterday. I think there’s something going around the base because there’s been at least one person in the sick bay every day this week. Luckily, I felt a little better by the afternoon. And I feel much better today though I’m still not at 100%. Today marks the two month anniversary of the earthquake in Haiti. I went to the French Red Cross to help gather materials for distribution in the IDP camp in front of the base. The FRC is located on the site of a former Catholic school where 55 children died in the earthquake. They were having a memorial on the site. The girls were dressed in their powdered blue uniforms. Many of them also had on ruffle socks and ribbons in their hair. They looked adorable.

Doctors Without Borders is near the FRC. There was a long, long line of people outside waiting to see a doctor. I wondered how long they’d have to stand there before being able to see a doctor and if they weren’t able to see one today if they’d have to stand in line again tomorrow. I walked with another volunteer to get money exchanged. Men were making kissing sounds at me as I walked by. The feminist in me was really annoyed, but I just ignored it. We stopped and had a soda on the way back. It was the coldest drink I’ve had since I’ve been here. It was only about $0.80 but I would have paid $20 for that cold soda. Having anything cold is a luxury. I saw Son-Son on the way back to the base. I hadn’t seen him in a couple of days, so it was very nice to talk to him for a bit.

My Girls

Later I went to see my girls Doun, Katia, Veronique and Stefani. While Doun’s mother sent someone to get her, she pulled out her best chair for me to sit in and positioned it in the shade. I was so humbled by that simple act of kindness. When Doun came, Veronique and Junior were with her. Doun introduced me to her grandmother, youngest sisters and cousins. She brought out her English phrases so we could go over pronunciation again. On the way back to the base, Doun showed me her house in an IDP camp. It was a one room structure with three mattresses inside. She and Veronique share a bed. They were so proud to show off their house.

March 13, 2010

Today was my last day of rubble, I hope. I’m just not consuming enough calories to do such a physical activity for 7 hours a day (4 hours in the morning and 3 hours in the afternoon). Not to mention the heat. I spent most of my time in the field talking to people, so I met several new people today. One of them was an older woman who told me in Creole (and I understood her) I should have worn a scarf to protect my hair from the dust and dirt. I chuckled to myself because I could imagine my grandmother or mother saying the same thing. Funny how issues related to hair are a common denominator for people of African descent. We had afternoon play time again. This time with kids in a different camp. The field we went to was littered with cow manure; way more than the field behind the base. It was difficult to find a place to sit down. The kids didn’t care. Some of them walked barefoot in the field, making no effort to avoid the piles of sun-dried cow manure. There were 40-50 kids this time.

A Little Fun

I played duck, duck goose, blew bubbles, jumped rope and played hand slapping games. I think I had more fun than the kids. Doun invited me to her house again. This time, she insisted I sit down. I didn’t want to because her sheets were white and I didn’t want to get them dirty, but it seemed really important to her that I sit, so I did. We took a few pictures, then I headed back to the base. Yet another night of competing music genres between the bar and the camp. Does the bar really need to be open every night? And is it really necessary to go have a drink at the bar every night? I know there’s nothing else to do and it’s a great way to unwind and relax, but it’s still a bit awkward to me. I was pleased to learn I wasn’t the only person that feels this way.

March 14, 2010

I attended services at a Baptist church today. Many people that I’d gotten to know were there, so it was great to see them. The service lasted 3.5 hours. I didn’t understand 95% of the service, but I enjoyed it anyway. I went with two other volunteers, and of course, all eyes were on us. We tried to discreetly move to the back of the church to allow members to sit when it got crowded. They tried to get us to move to the front, but we politely declined. So they brought chairs for us to sit in. All of this was happening during the service. So much for our attempts not to be disruptive. After church, Son-Son took me around to the back of the church to meet his mother. She was very nice. I was able to speak with her using the Creole her son had been teaching me. I was also able to say a few words in Creole when we had to stand up in front of the church and introduce ourselves as visitors. For dinner, seven of us took a caravan of moto taxi’s to a restaurant called La Belle Negress. It was my second time on a moto taxi in Haiti and my second time on a motorcycle ever. It is the best way to get around the narrow, generally unpaved roads in Léogâne. The restaurant was lovely. It was my first complete meal since getting sick. There’s no electricity in Léogâne at night (unless you have a generator), so the ride from the restaurant back to the base was…fun. I don’t know why I thought being on a moto taxi in the pitch black was fun, but it was.

March 15, 2010

Today is my last day in Haiti. I had to sign up for rubble. There was no other choice. I wasn’t in the mood to do rubble removal and was sad that I was leaving. So I spent most of the morning in the field talking to Azor and a group of teen boys, and taking pics of the kids. In the afternoon, I stayed at the base. I measured the back field so an estimate for a fence could be obtained. I also helped a little bit with house cleaning. I then went to say goodbye to my girls. On the way, I ran into Son-Son. He wanted to show me his house and introduce me to his brother. He showed me the now damaged home he and his family used to live in, and the makeshift structure they currently live in. Like Doun, he was so proud to show me where he lived. I suppose they are happy just to have a roof over their head…not a tent or a tarp or a sheet, but a tin roof. Son-Son walked me to Doun’s house. Her grandmother pulled out the “good” chair for me, and the rickety old stool for Son-Son. We all looked at each other and laughed. At least they put his seat in the shade too. Everyone asked me when I was coming back to Haiti. Not if, but when. As I started to say my goodbyes to the girls, Doun showed me a picture of herself when she was a baby. Veronique gave me a picture of her. Stefani was upset that she couldn’t give me a picture because her pictures were destroyed in the earthquake.

Trying to extend my visit even longer, Doun pulled out her English phrases again so we could go over pronunciation. Then another girl brought a torn sheet of paper with translations of Creole phrases to English, so we went over those too. She tried to give me the sheet, but I couldn’t accept it. Their school papers, no matter how worn, torn and tattered were important to them. The girls walked me back to the base and we all said our goodbyes. I tightly hugged each of them goodbye, not wanting to let go. I was surprisingly composed. Several hours later, I heard someone call my name. I looked up and saw Doun at the front door of the base. She and her pregnant friend had walked in the dark so that Doun could give me a picture of herself. I hugged Doun again and the tears started flowing. I just couldn’t keep it together after that. I have such high hopes for these girls. I am going to miss them dearly. They have had such a lasting impact on my life in such a short amount of time.

March 16, 2010

Well, this is it. My last sunrise in Haiti. Throughout my time here, people have asked me if I’m Haitian. I’ve replied no. But really what I mean is that while I’m not Haitian in terms of my nationality or country of origin, I am Haitian in spirit. I am part of the African diaspora and therefore share a kinship with Haitians because of our shared origins. I have felt that kinship the entire time I’ve been here. I feel like the community of Léogâne embraced me as one of their own, allowing me to have a richer volunteer experience that was about more than removing rubble. This has been a life-changing and life-affirming experience for me. It lets me know that my purpose in life is to serve the community…to serve as a beacon of hope and provide a path to opportunity for people who want and deserve the best that life has to offer. I’m leaving Haiti with some very fond memories. I will never forget any of the people I’ve met here. I may not remember some of their names, but I will never forget their faces or the impact they’ve had on my life. I haven’t even left yet and I’m already trying to plan a return trip.

Christa Pettis works in marketing and advertising. She currently lives in St. Louis, Missouri.