I wrote this a few days ago, and thought I would share it with my Xanga community. It has been over 20 years since I've been to Haiti, so my recollections may be a little fuzzy - but they are my recollections of beautiful and sometimes confusing days gone by:

I am grieving for Haiti. I love that little country. It has a noble history, yet it has been subject to so many horrors that it has become the poorest and most troubled of places. And now a major earthquake. I have been praying, but my prayers are more like groans which the Holy Spirit must interpret. I don’t know what to say.

I remember a very different Haiti. My mother is Haitian. She left Haiti in the late 50’s for Canada, then ended up in Toledo, Ohio where she met and married my father. We used to visit every 3 years when I was growing up. I remember those visits vividly. I remember flying into the airport and having to disembark down a long flight of stairs then into the small building. Once a guard who opened our suitcases to check for who knows what (I was about 12) found my stuffed monkey. I smirked a little, thinking how silly it was for him to check my monkey – he then pretended to strangle it. I didn’t know what to do, so I gave a nervous smile and closed my suitcase.

Although I was quite shy with my relatives when I was very young, I loved to be with them. It took a few days for me to understand the cadence of Creole, and almost the entire two weeks to be able to speak brokenly (I had an odd mixture of French, English, and Creole – but they didn’t mind). The servants were especially anxious to speak Creole to me, and were delighted when I answered back in kind. I was taught how by the cook to make Rice and Beans – the staple dish of Haiti. Every morning when my mother and I started to stir, a servant girl would bring in a tray with coffee – I mean thick, dark espresso which was nearly syrup and SO delicious – and crusty bread with butter. When we were dressed, we would go in and eat breakfast which always had fruit. My uncle had a banana tree on his patio, and mangos as well. For dinner – the midday meal – we would feast on chicken or beef, rice & beans, plaintains, bread fruit (sort of like a potato, not terribly appetizing), and topped off with ice cream & confitures. Supper was usually very simple: beef soup with bread, and maybe some fruit. They believed that you should eat lightly before bed, lest you become plagued with nightmares. I always thought that made perfectly good sense.

I remember driving around Port-au-Prince, hating the smells but loving the sights. The buses were ridiculously colorful, the buildings were ridiculously colorful, the markets were ridiculously colorful, even the people were ridiculously colorful! The only truly magnificent building in the heart of Port-au-Prince was the President’s Palace: it was pristine white, with elegant domes and palace guards all over the place. When I was 8 or 9, the guards sported their machine guns across their backs and sometimes smiled. When I was 12, the guns were in front. By the time I was 18, they held them in their hands, and no one smiled. I enjoyed Port-au-Prince for a day or two, but as I wasn’t very fluent in Creole I was happier when we retreated to less populated and cleaner areas and I could communicate with my mother and younger cousins who spoke English.

We would always spend a day or two at the beach. They were absolutely beautiful beaches. The water was so very blue, and so warm and lovely to swim in! My first sunburn ever happened when the young man who escorted me that summer took me to the beach at 7 am and brought me home close to midnight. In Ohio, I could stay out all day on the tennis court and get a great tan. In Haiti, I burned bright red – I did not take into account how much closer to the Equator we were. I never made that mistake again!

But my favorite moments were when we made the trek into the mountains of Kenscoff. My aunt & uncle – Toto Yvon and Taunte Paula – had a house in Kenscoff where we would spend the majority of our vacation. We visited with other relatives and friends who made their permanent residence there. It was wonderful, because it was cool at night and comfortable during the day – and it didn’t smell like unwashed bodies and burning trash. I remember watching a funeral procession walking down the mountain road, and my mother explaining that for a funeral you would either wear black or white – no other colors at all. Most of the women were in white. I also remember taking a joy ride or two with my Haitian friends. We would usually end up drinking too much rum and doing very stupid things. Once I tried to learn to drive their stick-shift on the side of the mountain and nearly killed us all. And once we stopped by a roadside distillery and had a cup of what must have been absolute pure grain alcohol. To this day I don’t remember what happened after that, but surprised myself by throwing up out of the car window hours later. I also remember one of the brothers taking me out to dinner in the mountains, because I wanted to talk earnestly about the political climate there. I was 19 then, and he was extremely nervous discussing things because we were getting some intense looks from the waiters. He didn’t divulge much info, but he and his brother left Haiti for New York very soon after that. Their sister went to the Dominican. I have no idea what happened to their parents.

We had cousins who owned a coffee plantation in the mountains. When Taunte Rolande came to visit us every year, she would bring us coffee – it was the BEST coffee! But about five or six years ago, she didn’t bring any on her annual visit to the States. She informed us that the police came to the plantation and burned it all to the ground – our cousins barely escaped with their lives. We never knew why they did it. My aunt said she thought it was because they could, and that was as good a reason for the police as any. None of us understood why the U.S. was so lax about sending aid to a country so close to us and so very much in need of help.

I remember Haiti was a beautiful country – lush, green, and surrounded by shimmering sands and clear, aquamarine water. Poverty was always an issue, but people used to be happy. In 30 years, however, it went from troubled to tragic – and now the infrastructure is destroyed, perhaps beyond repair. I have very few family members left in Haiti, but the ones who are there have pretty much lost their homes and their livelihood. I imagine all the younger ones will emigrate to the U.S. – but my oldest uncle who is in his upper 80’s may have no choice but to remain where he is.

I cannot imagine being there right now. I tried to shield my mother from the devastation, but she insisted on seeing what was happening, and it was well that she did. Our phone has been ringing all morning with people giving and getting information on loved ones. The images on TV, and the sounds of horror and despair are too much for me to handle anymore. This is Haiti’s 9/11, except the devastation did not come from terrorists, but as a result of permission from the very throne of God.

As always, when natural disasters of this magnitude occur, I ask God, “Why? So many are suffering, and they have suffered so much already – why, Lord?” I’m so glad God can handle my questions. He assures me that He loves the people of Haiti more than I do, and He has a purpose. He will make beauty from the ashes of this country, I know He will. Now is the time for the people of God to rally and offer the hope that only God can provide through Jesus Christ.

If anyone reading this would like to donate to relief efforts for Haiti, please visit this link to Samaritan's Purse Samaritan's Purse – they will direct you to the best way to donate.

Thank you for reading. Weeping endures for a night, but joy comes in the morning. I believe God has a purpose for the people of Haiti – to break them free from the cursed chains of Voodoo and corrupt government and make them a people who glorify and praise Him. May we in this very privileged nation do the same.

This year has been a difficult one for our family, as my husband passed away in May. Finances, along with other issues, are giving me pause. I have money for gifts, but I am thinking about them differently. For family members far away, I have decided to invest in livestock for those in need around the world (including areas of the US), and doing it in their name.

What do you all think of giving to charity in the name of those you love for Christmas, birthdays, etc.? How would you receive such a gift?

Would you pay $300.00 for these shoes?



Would you pay $1,000 for these: