We were delayed in Haiti unable to unload - a bureaucrat held up the paperwork. We had some time and my dad invited me to go ashore with the dinghy and drop off fuel for the site. As we pulled up to the beach to meet the truck, we were swarmed by children. Curious, talkative, helpful, gorgeous children! When the truck arrived, we loaded the fuel containers, and headed through the village. We were dropped off to play frisbee and soccer with the kids and the truck continued to the site to offload the fuel. What a beautiful day in every sense.
Though I can hardly paint a verbal picture of the poverty I witnessed, I water-colored one. The sights I saw were vivid making them easy to paint from memory (using a child's crayola set & drawing paper purchased in Louisiana).
Haitians for the most part are poor. One report by "Mountain Top Ministries" a church organization working in Haiti, painted a bleak picture of $240 average yearly income with 80% of the population subsisting on $100 annually. www.mtmhaiti.com/haiti-economy-overview.html My old 1988 Encyclopaedia Brittanica set said that they subsisted on $2 a day. The State Department reports that minimum wage is $1.70 a day or 70 gourds. www.state.gov/r/pa/ei/bgn/1982.htm The disparity hasn't changed - it might be worse.
Many Haitians have homes. S
ome are made of cement - 
simple. I'd liken some of the homes to an old farmer's shed or an old small dirty abandoned house on the prairie - wood. Some live on abandoned, grounded or semi-sunken ships that we've seen in the bay - metal. The other homes are made from sticks, tarp, metal, wood, cardboard, and any other material that could be used for walls - makeshift. And some don't have walls. They're arid, open to the elements, and on the ground - just sticks & tarp.That night it rained, hard. I stayed with the teams on-site. I didn't think about the Haitians - I was in a warm dry tent under a huge circus canopy. The next day after I returned to the ship, it poured. This time as the rain pounded on my cabin walls (container), I balked. Here I was, cozy, warm, dry, comfortable - sheltered. The opposite of what the Haitians at that moment were experiencing. My dis-ease came from the knowledge that others at the same time in the sa
me place were also dis-eased. Though their discomfort was literal, my mental anguish only came from recent awareness and I wished that there's wasn't so. I felt compassion, for the first time. The definition of compassion hits the mark: "com-pas-sion n. Deep awareness of the suffering of another coupled with the wish to relieve it." http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/compassionThat bureaucratic delay gave me extra time to comprehend. Now I know why we're doing what we're doing. On that 4th trip we carried building materials. I hope we'll carry more... lots more.
Because in
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