I land on the ground and it's like I’ve woken up out of a deep sleep. Electricity starts to run through my body and I feel alive, almost like I’m really breathing for the first time. For whatever reason, God has made me this way. Being in another culture excites me more than anything else, and I ponder which direction He is leading me.
I step out of the plane in Port au Prince and immediately feel the humidity in the air. Yes, I expected this. Humidity is nothing if you are an Arkansan, so I smiled knowing that the heat is nothing. I go through customs and am surprised by the faces I see. Some of the Haitians have honey colored or very light colored eyes while others have black eyes. I count how many white people I can see. A dozen or so. But somehow I don’t see my color. I’m aware of the differences among everyone else, but wherever I am I just assume I’m the same color as the people of the country I’m in. I also assume that I can speak Creole, which is completely inaccurate.
I walk outside into the sea of coal black faces and look for someone holding a piece of paper with my name. I walk through nonchalantly telling people “no thank you” to their help despite their persistence and meander until I find someone holding a piece of paper with my name. There it is.
Taryn Blocker Canaan Orphanage
The Haitian holding the piece of paper leads me to another man, Pastor Henri. Then Henri sends me back in to find Sister Gladys because we were actually on the same flight from Miami. Who knew? I go in, introduce myself to her, retrieve her, and off we go.
“You have been to Haiti before?” Sister Gladys asked almost a statement but with a hint of a question in there as we finished our hectic exit out of the airport. It was evident that Pastor Henri (PH) and Sister Gladys (SG) hadn’t seen each other in over a week by the giddiness they were displaying in talking with one another. I followed close to their side and took it all in.
“No, I haven’t been here before. This is my first time” I replied.
“Ah, you seem too comfortable. You travel a lot?”
I laugh and told her how I had been able to travel quite a bit in my life. SG nodded her head with the acknowledgement of why I wasn’t overwhelmed. Then I realize that once you’ve seen 3rd world (or the politically correct term of a “developing nation”), you can decently gauge what to expect. You will never completely know everything, so you sit back, follow the lead of those around you. And don’t you dare freak out.
I soak in this world that has been on my heart for the past 3 years. I had considered moving to Haiti the summer of 2009, before I went to my interview that led me down my winding trail to Spain. But here I finally was. To see it for myself and consider if this could be where God would lead me next.
After listening to SG and PH catch up we talked some and SG asked me my age. FYI, I look younger than my age. And I thank you for that, SG. As I looked behind us at the tap tap ( a taxi/truck with people piled on/risking their lives for the sake of transportation) I caught the eye of a woman my age. I smiled and she nodded her head at me with a bright smile. This was my official welcome to Haiti.
I asked SG and PH about their ministry and their life work. How it started. How long they had been married. Then I asked how many children were at Canaan now. The response PH gave me was such a reminder that I am an American and I still live with an American mindset. PH told me that others at Canaan know how many children there are, but God told them to stop counting long ago. I responded with an amen, for as Americans we are way into the numbers of it all.
PH is a Haitian, but I tried to figure out his heritage since he is white with light eyes. After some investigation I came to discover that his grandfather was a German who married a Haitian. PH even sometimes struggles with proving to Haitians that he is Haitian! The conversation goes that he can’t be Haitian because he is white, and he argues with them that he has been in Haiti his entire life, of course he is Haitian. Eventually he wins the argument with whoever questions his nationality. For he is truly Haitian. I guess my immigrant investigation training in Spain helped me put together the puzzle pieces.
About an hour and a half later, we arrive at Canaan in Montrouis. A place like the biblical Canaan. Rocky soil that has been nurtured, watered, and loved. This soil is not only the composition of the terrain but a place that once served as a rehab center for drug addicts and now is a refuge for children . A place of trees and shade where one can rest before going out into the deforestation surrounding it.
The rocky soil still exists as a reminder that the work is never finished.
Haiti has yet to have a functioning economy because of its poverty, lack of resources, and political corruption. Desperation is everywhere. As it is Haiti will forever be a black hole of resources if an economy is never created. Once again I find myself engrossed by this problem of a self sustaining society YET I believe Christ is first in foremost in the formula for what they really need. For man does not live on bread alone. And who am I really kidding? Christ is first and foremost in what I need, even though I have more than enough of the other "stuff".
So I gathered this new information. Stored it in my mind. This was my introduction to Haiti. And there is more to tell. I have yet to tell you of the hospital run to Port, how to get something notarized, my breaking point, and how God held my hand through it all.
End of Installment 1. Stay tuned.
