My first trip to Haiti was in 1971 when I spent the summer touring the southern United States and the Caribbean performing with The Continental Singers. After our concert in the Port-au-Prince cathedral, we were greeted by our host families that we’d be staying with for the evening.
After bundling one of my other choir mates and me into their old vehicle, we were driven out into the Haitian jungle. The ride took about an hour. The journey took place in pitch darkness as there were no streetlights along our route. We finally arrived at our host’s home. A four room, cinder block building composed of a kitchen, bedroom, living room and bathroom. We were fed a meal and then shown to the bedroom where we were to spend the night. I didn’t sleep much that evening. The home had no windows and being out in the jungle there were a myriad of unfamiliar sounds that resonated throughout the night. The eerie sounds of a wide variety of wildlife created an unending cacophony, the only thing that would pierce the darkness that evening.
When I finally drifted off to sleep it was the wee hours of the night. However, I didn’t rest for long as roosters soon began shrieking their morning greetings to one another.
At sunrise our hosts prepared a hearty breakfast for us after which they returned us to the cathedral where we met our fellow choristers before heading to the airport and our flight to Barbados for our next concert.
Over the years as I’ve reflected on this experience, a few questions have come to my mind. The family I stayed with consisted of a husband, wife and their four children. Their home only had one bedroom, which is where my colleague and I spent the night. I wonder where their family slept that evening? While the meals they served us were plentiful, none of the family we stayed with ate with us. Did they eat that evening and the following morning, or did they give us the food that was intended for their family? They only spoke French or Cajun. We only spoke English. While we did our best communicate with gestures, there was no way to develop a meaningful relationship or to learn much about one another without a common language.
While that was the only time I have been to Haiti, the country continues to play a role in my life. The church that we’ve been members of for years has been conducting mission trips to Haiti since the mid-1990s. Both of my children spent the Easter break of their senior years in high school visiting and serving at the orphanage that our church has supported. Like the experience I described, their respective trips were also impactful and life changing.
Due to the connection with our church, over the years, several of the children who had been raised in the orphanage have either visited or relocated to Pittsburgh. Through what I consider a “divine appointment” one of these young ladies ended up living with our family in 2022 and helped us care for my 90+ year old mother. She became such an integral part of our family during that year, that she asked my daughter to be her maid of honor when she got married.
Due to the political climate in Haiti, for years now, it hasn’t been possible for my church to send students on mission trips to that part of the world. While we continue to look for other ways to support the orphanage, schools, churches and individuals in Haiti, it is no longer safe to send our students or other members of our congregation to serve in that country.
That, however, didn’t deter Davy and Natalie Lloyd young newlyweds ages 23 and 21 from serving as missionaries in Haiti through the ministry Missions in Haiti, Inc.
Tragically the Lloyds and mission director Jude Montis, 45, all lost their lives last month when they were ambushed as they left church in Port-au-Prince one evening.
Natalie’s father, Missouri state Rep. Ben Baker told CNN “I don’t think you can find a better example of people who truly had a deep love for the people of Haiti and had a vision to help them in any way that they could and made such an impact there among the different ministries they were involved in”.
I continue to be haunted by Haiti.
Comentários