Day 6 — Once again as I blog it is 9:36pm and pitch black outside. I’ve grown accustomed to the sound of the water coming down from the drain pipes after the evening rain. Today the downpour was fierce and I could not resist the temptation to take off my sneakers and try out the puddles of clear waters formed on the pebbled pathways of the compound. It never ceases to amaze me how it rains at precisely the same time every single day as if the Lord has scheduled the watering of the earth before it sleeps and wakes up to another scorching day. The sound of it is lovely, and in a country where food is scarce, it brings hope of plenty someday.

This morning, Charles in charge, our otherwise fearless team leader who happens to be Haitian and has returned to his country after a thirty year absence, had an encounter with a Haitian female of the eight-legged variety. As he opened a large duffle to check its contents, his eyes fell upon a large tarantula spider inches from his hand. With a loud scream he leapt on one foot and beamed for the door of the house . The size of the spider grows with every telling of the incident but I have the goods on the digital camera. Needless to say he has been on guard ever since! And, I confess, so have I. The team will empty out their bags to check for stowaways when they pack for the return flight home…

Today the team split up in the morning to rejoin at midday. One team went to the school founded by HEF with the local church in Hinche. The church is an imposing newly-built structure with turrets, on a leafy cobble-stoned street. Somewhat of an anomaly architecturally but large, light and welcoming inside. Some of the team attended service there on Sunday. The elementary school is in the back. Three pastel colored cement buildings surround a large tree at the center of a cement courtyard, which this particular morning was lit by the sun through the tree branches. We were struck by how serene and clean it was. The children impeccable in their grey and pink-checkered uniforms. Their hair neatly done in beautiful ribbons and hair clips. The medical team prepared to set up to visit each classroom to give out multivitamins and check for the obvious signs of illness among any of the children. We also gave out gifts from a second grade class in New York to the second grade class here. The children welcomed us singing “If You’re Happy and You Know it” in Creole.

Loboc
In contrast, Loboc was the poorest village we have visited so far. The medical clinic was set up as usual inside the church which needed a good sweeping. The rough, barebone benches were broken and piled up without care against a corner. The walls desperately ready for a clean coat of paint. The people seemed downtrodden. Hunger was evident. Many children lacked proper clothing.

The medical cases were more severe. One woman had a tree fall on her foot and had been walking on the ankle for four to five years, because she could not get medical help. One adolescent girl was brought in by her father who explained she was wont to go into inexplicable rages. We prayed for her unsure whether the roots were mental illness or just spiritual. Voodoo and witchcraft are a reality here. Most of the people examined for reading glasses could not even read.

Loboc reminded us why we need to continue to pray for Haiti. The hopelessness is so evident here. Even the pair of oxen we managed to see behind the church as a farmer plowed a small field, seemed scrawny and tired. As we prayed for the people gathered, we reminded them that the Lord had not forgotten them, and they should trust and put their hope in Him.