7:30 am- I wake up rejuvenated beyond my understanding. The new day has brought me health and encouragement. It will all be fully needed to endure the day. Thanks be to God and all of those praying…
7:35 am- Charles Amicy takes Zack and I to PAP, in a search party, to find his sister and her family. With no contact since the quake, we will need a minor miracle to find them if they are still alive…
8:30 am- Enter the concrete jungle of PAP. The capital of Haiti is completely shut down and everyone is on the streets walking aimlessly afraid to go near any concrete structures. Almost every building left standing has major cracks crawling up the sides. The higher we go into the mountains of PAP, the intensity rises. More collapsed buildings, more blocked roads, more people covering their faces due to the increasing number of decaying bodies scattered on the side of the road.
10:00ish am- We park at the entrance of a blocked road. Charles gets out and tells us to stay in the truck as he runs off. The door opening and closing allows a strong stench of death to permeate inside. Zack and I make timid eye contact in the back seat as if to say, “God help us.” The ride thus far through PAP puts Zack and me in a heavy silence not easily broken. Finally, Charles emerges waving his arms franticly. Miracle 1- He found his sister, her husband and her kids- unharmed. They have a handful of belongs and throw them into the bed of the truck. They ask Zack and me to watch over it as they go back for one more round of things. Charles gives me his handkerchief to breathe through as the stagnate outside air reeks of dead bodies. We try to reorganize the possessions to make more room and in doing so stand several 5 gallon jugs upright. I witness an unsettling potential foreshadowing of the near future. As Haitians walking by see the jugs now clearly visible, they stop dead in their tracks. With frenzied looks they ask, “Eske ou gen dlo?!” (You have water?!) We say no but they just stare. Not just any stare, for a Haitian does not stare like Americans. A haunting soul piercing stare, the kind of stare where literally anything can happen next. Within 30 seconds, we quickly lay the jugs back down out of view. With no water in PAP, a storm of anxiety is growing stronger by the day. Charles and company return with some final items. Charles sister and family ride inside the truck with him while Zack and I lay on belongings in the bed of the truck. Heading back to Cabaret, we experience a full sensory taste of the sights of broken concrete and twisted rebar, the sounds of restless Haitians wondering about, the smell of rotting humans, the taste of dust and the feel of a rising atmosphere of chaos in PAP.
11:30 am- We arrive back at our house realizing we inevitably need to make a very important decision. Are we staying or are we going? We, the Americans, had weighed the pro and cons of both sides tirelessly. Bottom line- By staying right now with no tangible things to offer (aka medical relief), we are needlessly using scarce and valuable resources our Haitians friends and orphans require to survive. Along with growing concern for our safety, we decide we must go. Jay had been consulting with some missionary friends of ours about potential ways to get out. Our top 3 options, 1st option- try to navigate PAP to get to the US Embassy. The less reliable 2nd option- go to Citibank in PAP and use their helicopters to fly us to the Dominican Republic for a future flight to America. The 3rd option consisted of a crackpot team of our closest and most “Bear Grylls like” friends to come by boat and take us back. We decide to give PAP a try. The truck we have had enough gas to make just one more roundtrip to PAP and Charles needed to go back asap to pick up his other brother Leon and family. So it’s try now or try an unknown extendedly long time from now.
Noon- We gathered what we could in backpacks and said some rushed goodbyes. The orphans wanted to know when we would return but I could make no guarantees. Sometimes the rational thing to do proves to be the hardest thing to do. Leaving our compound, our orphans, our friends, we all felt so guilty. Trying to navigate the endless maze of concrete dead ends in PAP, thoughts crowded my head. “It’s not fair. Why can I go and not them? They did nothing to deserve this. They have nothing to overcome this. Government = Corrupt. Basic Necessities to Live = Dwindling by the Day. Land = Deforested. Orphans = Skyrocketing. Life isn’t fair.” But in the midst of a divinely carved out route to our 2nd miracle, God quieted me. He reminded me that He is sovereign and has promised to make all things new. All things. Even the most twisted, mangled things. Even the most hopeless, dejected beings. It is all unfolding perfectly in His story. My hope, my whole existence, clings to the truth that this story of making all things new is finished and now unfolding perfectly. As I passed the UN soldiers to walk up to the Embassy, I felt at ease for the first time since just before 5 pm on Tuesday…
2:45 pm- We arrive at the US Embassy.
7:35 am- Charles Amicy takes Zack and I to PAP, in a search party, to find his sister and her family. With no contact since the quake, we will need a minor miracle to find them if they are still alive…
8:30 am- Enter the concrete jungle of PAP. The capital of Haiti is completely shut down and everyone is on the streets walking aimlessly afraid to go near any concrete structures. Almost every building left standing has major cracks crawling up the sides. The higher we go into the mountains of PAP, the intensity rises. More collapsed buildings, more blocked roads, more people covering their faces due to the increasing number of decaying bodies scattered on the side of the road.
10:00ish am- We park at the entrance of a blocked road. Charles gets out and tells us to stay in the truck as he runs off. The door opening and closing allows a strong stench of death to permeate inside. Zack and I make timid eye contact in the back seat as if to say, “God help us.” The ride thus far through PAP puts Zack and me in a heavy silence not easily broken. Finally, Charles emerges waving his arms franticly. Miracle 1- He found his sister, her husband and her kids- unharmed. They have a handful of belongs and throw them into the bed of the truck. They ask Zack and me to watch over it as they go back for one more round of things. Charles gives me his handkerchief to breathe through as the stagnate outside air reeks of dead bodies. We try to reorganize the possessions to make more room and in doing so stand several 5 gallon jugs upright. I witness an unsettling potential foreshadowing of the near future. As Haitians walking by see the jugs now clearly visible, they stop dead in their tracks. With frenzied looks they ask, “Eske ou gen dlo?!” (You have water?!) We say no but they just stare. Not just any stare, for a Haitian does not stare like Americans. A haunting soul piercing stare, the kind of stare where literally anything can happen next. Within 30 seconds, we quickly lay the jugs back down out of view. With no water in PAP, a storm of anxiety is growing stronger by the day. Charles and company return with some final items. Charles sister and family ride inside the truck with him while Zack and I lay on belongings in the bed of the truck. Heading back to Cabaret, we experience a full sensory taste of the sights of broken concrete and twisted rebar, the sounds of restless Haitians wondering about, the smell of rotting humans, the taste of dust and the feel of a rising atmosphere of chaos in PAP.
11:30 am- We arrive back at our house realizing we inevitably need to make a very important decision. Are we staying or are we going? We, the Americans, had weighed the pro and cons of both sides tirelessly. Bottom line- By staying right now with no tangible things to offer (aka medical relief), we are needlessly using scarce and valuable resources our Haitians friends and orphans require to survive. Along with growing concern for our safety, we decide we must go. Jay had been consulting with some missionary friends of ours about potential ways to get out. Our top 3 options, 1st option- try to navigate PAP to get to the US Embassy. The less reliable 2nd option- go to Citibank in PAP and use their helicopters to fly us to the Dominican Republic for a future flight to America. The 3rd option consisted of a crackpot team of our closest and most “Bear Grylls like” friends to come by boat and take us back. We decide to give PAP a try. The truck we have had enough gas to make just one more roundtrip to PAP and Charles needed to go back asap to pick up his other brother Leon and family. So it’s try now or try an unknown extendedly long time from now.
Noon- We gathered what we could in backpacks and said some rushed goodbyes. The orphans wanted to know when we would return but I could make no guarantees. Sometimes the rational thing to do proves to be the hardest thing to do. Leaving our compound, our orphans, our friends, we all felt so guilty. Trying to navigate the endless maze of concrete dead ends in PAP, thoughts crowded my head. “It’s not fair. Why can I go and not them? They did nothing to deserve this. They have nothing to overcome this. Government = Corrupt. Basic Necessities to Live = Dwindling by the Day. Land = Deforested. Orphans = Skyrocketing. Life isn’t fair.” But in the midst of a divinely carved out route to our 2nd miracle, God quieted me. He reminded me that He is sovereign and has promised to make all things new. All things. Even the most twisted, mangled things. Even the most hopeless, dejected beings. It is all unfolding perfectly in His story. My hope, my whole existence, clings to the truth that this story of making all things new is finished and now unfolding perfectly. As I passed the UN soldiers to walk up to the Embassy, I felt at ease for the first time since just before 5 pm on Tuesday…
2:45 pm- We arrive at the US Embassy.
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