Yesterday we climbed on top of the bus and headed out to do ministry. Yep, on top of the bus. Don’t worry, there is a 24 inch metal cage around the top. Its the kind of near death experience that makes you feel alive.
Traffic in Haiti is a free-for-all. The only rules of the road are to try to stay on it, and to yield to the bigger vehicle. Drivers lay on their horns to communicate about everything. There are people everywhere, jumping out of the way of on coming traffic at the very last moment.
Our bus driver’s name is Shama, he is the oldest 19 year old I’ve ever met. He drives our full-sized school bus like its s Subaru. I told him, “Shama, you’re 19 and I literally trust you with my life.” He replied, “You better! Hahaha.”
Yesterday the plan was to go back up into the Haitian mountainside and help some labors haul up supplies for making cement. Shama didn’t get the memo. When we made our way out to the main road he turned left instead of right.
‘I wonder where we are going,’ I thought.
We ended up in a little village, Peris (pronounced like Paris, France). I am not sure if this place even shows up on a map. Its a little settlement on the side of the road. The house are cement and one-room, or transient metal sheds. When our bus pulled in people came out of their houses, enthusiastic to met us. All the school children had also seen us and had run out of their building eager to met us too.
Our group split into two, one group went to the school to visit the kids and I went with the group who stayed in the main part of the village. People came from everywhere to welcome us.
We were about to leave when a villager named David thrust this young boy into our circle. I think he was about 7. David said he had a walked from a different settlement almost an hour away. His parents had died. Now he sleeps in the streets. His clothes were soiled I could not tell what was poop and what was dirt. He had bites and open sores all over his skin. His eyes were fading. David stated this boy needed prayer as he was the town orphan, and he literally had nothing but his stained clothes, no shoes.
This child was named Wanason. We prayed for him. His big eyes were full of fear as he stared at these foreigners surrounding him.
When we were done praying Wanason darted away down the alley. My friend Preston and I were able to get him to come back for a moment, but he was skittish. I looked him straight in the eye, shook his hand and told him in English, “I’m sorry.”
It sucked walking away.
In the states at my job I would have called the cops, gotten a court order, got some foster parents, got some clothes, and called it a day. Here in Haiti, I could do nothing but pray.
Our group departed and walked over to the school to collect the others. I stood in the school year with tears streaming down my face. I was wrecked. for a brief moment I shared in the despair with this child. Life is not fair.
I know prayer is powerful. But its hard to be patient. Its hard to walk away not having met the physical needs of this suffering child. Please join me in praying for this little guy too.
