Ayiti Cheri
// March 29th, 2010 // 1 Comment » // Story
Unlike a lot of other missionaries I knew, I had actually heard of Haiti before I got my mission call. Wyclef Jean of the hip-hop group the “Fugees,” who later went solo, talked about Haiti (and in Haitian Creole) quite a bit in his music. I liked a lot of hip-hop music in high school, and Wyclef’s remix of the Bee Gees’ “Staying Alive” was one of my favorites. So when I got my mission call to serve in Haiti, I was actually ecstatic. My excitement heightened, a few days later, when I saw a Haiti special on the Travel Channel. The one-of-a-kind culture, the bright colors, the vibrant music, the tropical climate, the rich history, and everything else you can imagine was featured.
Nothing, however, could have prepared me for that hot day, in April 1999, when I landed in Port-au-Prince with seven companions, and I realized that I didn’t have a return flight. Haiti is an extraordinary place. It is hot. It is dusty. It is bright. It is colorful. But it is also desperately poor and, in many ways, forsaken. On that first day, my companions and I had the fortunate experience of being driven around, in the bed of a big 4×4 pickup truck, on a little tour of the city, from Petionville, down to Canape-Vert, and back, where I got to see my first Haitian sunset over the bay of Port-au-Prince, and learn how to say “Sakapfet?” I remember thinking that Haiti looked just as bright, colorful, and exotic as Neverland–where the lost boys lived in the Peter Pan movie “Hook.” There were countless people weaving in and out of steep ravines, dirt pathways, and busy streets, while others climbed up and down through the concrete jungle of homes, alleyways, and stairs, carrying who-knows-what on top of their heads, in loads five times as big as the person carrying them. Mango and coconut trees peppered every hill- and mountain-side. Sewage flowed through the gutters. Naked children ran around yelling “Blan!” And nearly every single person I looked at gave me a huge, white smile in return. They brightened my spirit, and increased my excitement–this would be the adventure of my life.
It didn’t take long to realize, however, that these wonderful, unbelievably happy people were born into overwhelming and virtually insurmountable disadvantages. I quickly learned that things that we Americans sometimes take for granted, like good medicine and a decent education, are afterthoughts when you have to scrape by just to survive from day to day. Yet, notwithstanding their widespread poverty and travail, the Haitian people really showed me how to smile, sing without care, joke, and love living. Perhaps nothing illustrates this more than the wonderful, carefree children of Haiti. The kids won’t just treat you like a rock star, they will teach you how to speak, they will teach you how to play, they will teach you how to laugh, and they will teach you how to love.
To this day, only Haitians can make me laugh so hard that I have to scream “Anmwe!” because my stomach hurts so bad. Only Haitians can sing, dance, and “bay blag” all day, in the way they do, notwithstanding their desperate circumstances. In America, we say “when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” In Haiti, they literally make a life worth loving, and full of joy, out of nothing. Over a period of approximately two years, Haiti taught me how to appreciate life more, to love more, to count my blessings more, and to remember that “because I have been given much, I too must give.” Ayiti, cheri, mwen renmen ou netalkole.–My Dear Haiti, I will love you forever and ever.
Seth “Ti Bouch” Mott
