Arrival

I arrived in Miami at about 7 am, and the flight to Port-Au-Prince left at 2:30 pm. But I was saved from many hours of sitting on an airport chair by a friend of mine who lives in Miami, and who had some time available to pick me up, drive me to the beach in Miami, and have lunch with me before dropping me off at the airport.

It was especially nice because I haven't been in touch very much with her since last fall. We had lunch at a restaurant where Gianni Versace ate shortly before he died.

It's almost a cliche, but the contrast between the images of the stores and cruise ships in Miami, and the scene in Haiti is pretty immense as I think about my day today.

The flight to Haiti from Miami was absolutely packed. There were rows, with each having 7 seats (2, then 3 in the middle, then 2). I'd guess about 10 to 20% seemed to be Haitian, many of them pretty well dressed, quiet, serious. The rest of us were from various churches and other organizations trying to "do good". The atmosphere was a good one. I also hoped that of those of us on the plane, myself included, we would be able to do more good than harm. And hopefully, some real and lasting good. Historically, there's been so much that Christians have done that have had such huge unintended negative consequences. And yet, when you're in the middle of a plane full of folks with good intentions, there's a certain hope, and charity, and gentleness in the air that feels pretty good. As they say, the road to hell is paved ...

The airport in Port-Au-Prince was chaotic. We landed, waited while we all grabbed various carry-ons, then boarded a shuttle bus that took us to a structure about 5 minutes away. After seeing the images in the media, and reading about the earthquake, I almost expected to see a city where few structures were left standing. But that wasn't the case. I could see buildings and peeling paint, and a general sense of things run down.

We went to the immigrations and customs area, which was essentially a big warehouse. A guy in a uniform looked at my passport and customs declaration. I was a little apprehensive, because the foundation I'm working with didn't send me the address of the house where I'd be staying. So I filled out the paperwork simply saying that I'd be in Port-Au-Prince during my stay. I was expecting someone to ask: you mean you don't know where you'll be? Are you staying in one of the tent cities or something? You really don't know?

To which I would reply: no, there's a house somewhere that someone from this foundation is going to take me to. I don't know where it is, though, and I really hope that someone is out there waiting for me.

But instead the official stamped my passport and waved me through.

Claiming your checked luggage in a semi-makeshift airport where almost everyone around you is some type of aid or relief worker trying to help--try imagining it. Everyone's got the huge checked luggage bags. The conveyor belt (and they had one that was working) was a bit short, so things occasionally cycled by. Mobs of people are all around trying to edge their way in: "that one's mine!". Then they'd grab it, and often stay standing at the edge to get another.

I thought that if luggage thieves ever wanted a good target, this was probably it. Lots of chaos, lots of luggage lying around. Fortunately, after a bit of waiting (with a little growing anxiety), mine came out, and I managed to grab it.

Then a short walk to the building's exit, and outside into ... more chaos. Haitians all around, offering to help travelers with their bags. Young boys begging. The street, with cars and people walking by. Again, fortunately, one of the staff members I'd met a week ago (exactly), S, was there, along with SD, a Haitian translator and helper. The two helped me with my luggage, walked me out a few blocks, and got it all into the car.

By now it was about 4:30 or 5 pm, local time. S drove the car into that kind of crazy traffic I'd always heard about in other less developed countries. The kind where lanes are optional, sudden merging cars can come at any second, people walk out into the street within a hairs' breadth of getting run over, cars going in either direction sometimes just want to U-turn in the middle of the street, there's no traffic lights...you get the idea.

S said it normally took about 45 minutes to get from the house to the airport, without traffic. It ended up taking us about 2.5 hours. As we got out of the busier areas, there was less craziness, but the slowness was just because all the cars ahead of us were slow. And there were a lot of cars.

There were a good number of buildings that looked fine, but here and there some were in shambles. Lots of men and women were walking on the sidewalks or in the streets, going about their business. Lots more run down buildings, and some sad faces, but also a certain vibrancy underneath the surface, too.

Lots and lots of graffiti, much of it telling passersby to "Vote ___ (various names here)" I asked Sd if the people were very into politics, and he said yes, yes. But also, no one cleans up the graffiti, so what we saw was from lots of political campaigns from elections past.

On several occasions, while we were stuck in traffic, small Haitian boys ran up to S's window (she was driving), and asked for money, or said "hungry" and pointed at their bellies. Which was sad on several levels. That they were asking, and that we weren't giving them money was sad. That they had probably learned to do this over the past few months (maybe even years), and had learned they had some small chance of getting something was also sad, since they probably had nothing better to do.

They only approached the non-Haitians, never any of the Haitian teenagers or adults on the streets, at least as far as I could see. And I didn't see any girls begging, just young boys.

The roads at times were rough--broken asphalt, potholes, gravel in the street. Along the sidewalks were lots and lots of people, some of them walking about their business, many selling things from a box or blanket or table in front of them. Many were packing things up for the day.

Finally, we got home. A gated home, where R and B were waiting for us. (I had met R, the attorney, along with S in Valencia a week before.) It turned out to be a really really nice home. Four bedrooms, an electric generator in the back, well-furnished. It's owned by a couple that is away for a few years, and so we're renting it for a year. After a good dinner, we had a phone call with one of the U.S. staff, and then I got a quick crash overview of the legal issues R and I will be trying to handle or anticipate or avoid.

Anyway, that was my day, and I think the only reason I've stayed up so late is that my body is still used to Pacific time. I doubt I'll post at such length and in such detail, but I'll do what I can. Sorry if the above are ramblings and disjointed.

I'd appreciate your prayers for me, for the foundation, for the lives of Haitian orphans, and for this country.

Bye.