-Megan Dorsey
Before our GROW trip, I had never been to Haiti let alone
out of the United States. Therefore,
this was a trip of many firsts for me.
It was exciting, nerve racking, eye opening, and so incredibly
worthwhile. I’m eternally grateful for
being given such a unique and life changing opportunity. As I sit down to write this I’m finding that
no words can properly convey how amazing this trip actually was. Everything I write just seems silly. No amount of storytelling will be able to
paint the scene of an equally beautiful and destructed country. Nor will it be able to express the feeling of
being welcomed wholeheartedly into numerous Haitian homes, occasionally
accompanied by a kiss on the cheek from the children! All I can do is give whoever may be reading
this the tiniest glimpse of what my time in Haiti was like and hope that maybe
one day all of you will be able to experience something so amazing that it leaves
you searching for adequate words.
I decided to begin with a short excerpt from my journal that
I think not only sums up my feelings during the course of this trip in a raw,
unembellished way, but also subtly foreshadows what the rest of this reflection
is about (hint: think happy thoughts!).
“I remember hearing Jim speak at
the Benefit Dinner about his first trip here and how although it was hot and
not always comfortable, he knew he would be back. That’s how I feel right now. I’m writing this while lying in bed
incredibly hot and sweaty. I’m tired and
dirty from spending the whole day walking the Haitian countryside. My feet are
swollen and I’m sticky from bug spray but somehow I’ve never been this happy.”
When writing this reflection I used my journal as a guide
but soon noticed that most of my journal entries consisted of stupid, sleepy
rambling about dirty hair and big spiders.
However, I ran across one journal entry that had a tiny bit of profound
thought included and therefore decided to run with that thought. Over the course of the two weeks I spent in
Haiti, one thing I witnessed on a daily basis was how happy everyone was. They lived in tiny cramped houses made of
cement, leaves, or sometimes-just tarps, yet I did not come across a single
person who seemed to be unhappy. This
was a welcome change from my own country.
Everyone always wants more and everyone has something to be unhappy
about. It became abundantly clear while
in Haiti that the cause of most American’s unhappiness is usually something
petty. We take so much for granted here.
We complain when we don’t get to go to a particular concert or buy an expensive
pair of shoes. We even complain when we
are lucky enough to attend college or make a decent living by working. It’s interesting how we can have so much and
still spend most of our time angry for what we don’t have while the folks in
Haiti have so little and spend their time being thankful for what they do have.
People in America could really use a lesson from the people that I met while in
Haiti.
As I look back on my time in Haiti, a million memories come
rushing back. However, one memory stands
out among the rest. It was one of our
last days out surveying and Claire and I were walking with Rosembert, one of
the translators and Miss Luna, one of the community health workers. We came upon a home where they were building
a well. Miss Luna walked over to the men
working to ask if they knew the mother we were looking for. We all followed and Rosembert and Claire
quickly became engrossed in the well building.
Therefore, when Miss Luna motioned us towards the house indicating that
the mother we were looking for was inside, I was the only one who noticed and
subsequently followed. Miss Luna and I
sat down with the mother and her baby as numerous other family members looked
on. All we could do was wait for Claire
and Rosembert to join us so we could begin the survey. Typically when we visited a family’s home, we
could communicate through our translator.
However, since my translator was currently engrossed in the well
building project, I was at a loss. As we
sat there separated by a language barrier, the mother stood up and walked
towards me with her baby. She simply
plopped the baby down on my lap and took her seat across from me again. The baby happily looked up at me with a slobbery
grin and big brown eyes and then suddenly realized she had no idea who the
funny looking girl holding her was. She
burst into tears as we all began to laugh and I handed her back to her mother. Suddenly the language barrier disappeared and
we were communicating through acts of happiness. The remaining time waiting for Rosembert and
Claire was still void of words but it was no longer silent. The laughter continued for many different
reasons until Rosembert and Claire joined us and we were able to complete the
survey. This memory still makes me smile
because although we couldn’t communicate in the traditional sense by using
words, after the baby got us chuckling the communication flowed freely with
shared smiles and laughs. It made me
realize that smiles and laughter are a universal language that we can share
with anyone no matter what kind of barriers may be between us.
The common thread in all of my memories and stories from
Haiti seems to be happiness. The people
in Haiti exude happiness and it’s infectious.
You can’t spend time with them without also feeling happy. I’ve come to
the conclusion that Haiti is a happy place that’s been dealt a rough hand. But after visiting this remarkable country, what
I’ve found and what I hope I got across in this reflection, is the emphasis is
on the happy.
