Our time in Haiti has already led us to so many places and people. We live in Mountrouis (or Monwi) at the Fish House. Our ministry is spread around Monwi and the surrounding communities, and getting to where we’re going is always an adventure.
Sometimes we walk, dripping with sweat, along the dirt roads to our ministry’s Matthew 25 houses or to Anne’s Orphanage. Every couple minutes, we step aside to let a moto (or four) pass by.
Oftentimes we’re driven in one of the ministry’s trucks. A few of us sit up front, but the majority of us squeeze onto the wooden slats in the flatbed, trying not to hit our heads on the metal frame, and shifting our skirts to avoid truly awful tan lines. But these truck rides are filled with singing and an incomparable breeze as the mountains roll by. And when we drive through the community, we hear children gleefully shouting “bonswa!” as we drive past. It’s so worth the occasional branch smacking you in the face, or—more likely—Shamma, our translator, spraying you with windshield wiper fluid as you coast down the road.
Last week, we were driving through the market and found ourselves face to face with a 16 wheeler. The road is barely wide enough for either vehicle, so we did the only logical thing we could do—put the truck in reverse. We backed up all the way down the narrow market street until our path was blocked by—you guessed it—another 16 wheeler. There was a K turn and a lot of horn honking, but we all made it out eventually.
On rare occasions, we ride in the big white school bus. It’s how we got to the Fish House to begin with! It’s roomy and every time someone backs it into the Fish House driveway, we’re super impressed. But whether we’re going to church or to a school, by foot or by [insert vehicle here], we always make it just fine.
