Desperation

After a few days of processing the experience, I woke up early this morning to share what God showed me this weekend in Haiti.  As I've shared before, Barbie, one of the teachers here, is adopting three children from an orphanage in another part of the city.   The man in charge of this orphanage, Pastor Rigeau, is very involved in many different ministries across the city of Port Au Prince, including the area known as "La Saline", which is considered the poorest part of the capital city.  Barbie had visited La Saline before and had raised money with the school she works at in Connecticut to sponsor a feeding in the small church in this community.  When she invited us to go it sounded like a great opportunity to see more of Haitian culture and participate in a different type of ministry. 

After spending some time with Barbie and her kids at the orphanage, we piled into Pastor Rigeau's school bus and took the 15 minute drive from the orphanage to La Saline.  Driving through, the area looked much like other communities, a mixture of crumbling cement buildings and tent structures.  We were dropped off right in front of the church which was so packed with people already that it

took us a long while just to make it through the front doors.  Once we made it in we saw crowds of children seated on long wooden benches chatting loudly.  You could feel the excitement in the room as Pastor Rigeau greeted them.  After a quick word of introduction and a prayer, we began handing out plates of rice and beans which had been purchased and prepared ahead of time with the resources from Barbie's school.  There were a few moments of tension as some of the children were fighting over the food or trying to take more than their share.  Pastor Rigeau told us that this is likely the only food that these children will eat all day, which explained their desperation.

Standing in that hot, noisy, and overcrowded room I began to feel more than a little overwhelmed.  How does one process this kind of desperation?  Then I spotted one face in the crowd, a little boy about three years of age (in green at left) who was sitting on the top of the bench waiting to be fed and very clearly falling asleep as he waited.  His older sister (in pink), maybe six years old, was pinching and shouting at him to wake him up.  I came over and told her I would hold him and help him get some food.  He willingly came to me and wrapped his arms around my neck.  I grabbed a plate of food and slowly started feeding this sweet little guy.  He woke right up when the first bite touched his mouth, and even in the heat and noise of the room, it was a great moment of connection.  Pastor Rigeau came by to check on us and told me to look at the little boy's hair.  The orange discoloration is a sign of severe malnutrition.  I asked Pastor how often these feedings occur, and he said whenever there is funding.  He went on to share that he will come one week and feed malnourished children and then the next week when he returns they all won't be there anymore.  With a breaking heart I looked down again at this little guy who had fallen asleep in the crowd and was now eagerly eating the whole plate of food.  Would he be one that went missing from the crowd the next time Pastor returned with food?  I don't know that I'll ever be able to articulate the sorrow we felt as the feeding ended and the children slowly left the church.  I gave the little boy a hug and said a prayer as I watched his sister grab his arm and drag him out the door.  If we weren't at a breaking point then, we would be when Pastor took us further into La Saline to show us more of what poverty and desperation does to a culture.

La Saline comes from a French word meaning "salty soil."  In this part of Haiti the soil is salty, and the people use this to create food.  A mixture of earth, salt, and oil, these "mud cookies" are a staple in the diet of many of the children we interacted with.  Pastor Rigeau explained that these cookies carry parasites and many times when he explains this to parents and pleads with them not to feed them to their children, the only response he gets is that of desperation.  The parents know their children will not survive, that they are dying of starvation, and they don't want them to die with empty bellies.  These mud cookies bring a sense of peace to parents who are unable to provide anything else for their starving children. 

Standing out in the hot sun, watching these cookies being made, we were brought to a deeper and more troubling sense of the desperation of this place.  I have tried and prayed since leaving La Saline to find some deeper message, some great insight from the Lord about this experience.  Sorrow and hopelessness come as I think about what I have seen.  How can things like this happen?  When I live a life full of excess and comfort, how can children be starving?  Again my heart cries out for justice.  Then I am reminded that my perspective is limited and tainted.  The only thing I know is that God sees and knows the inexpressible sorrow and desperation felt by the people of La Saline.  He created each child and knows them by name.  I pray for faith to trust Him to be perfectly just and compassionate, to find a way and people to provide for these children and give them a hope for tomorrow.  Thank you for your patience as you follow along with me on this journey.  I apologize for the infrequency of recent posts.  As the electricity has been restored, I will do my best to share the experiences of the last few days here.  I welcome your prayers and am so thankful for your love and support!  Love in Christ, Jessie