We got to see the real Haiti today as our sponsor kindly took us to the large grocery store in Pétionville. I don’t think Pétionville is far from us, but it seemed to take forever as we navigated the unpaved roads (making Monday’s “main” road look like a modern interstate) up through the hills. The grocery store was great, though extremely expensive.
But what I want to write about is the ride. The abject poverty was truly striking. All along the way we saw people carrying 5-gallon buckets to gather their water. They had donkeys, motorbikes, wheelbarrows; but mostly they carried them on top of their heads. And they had to negotiate the traffic on the “roads” (unpaved of course) going steeply uphill. It’s difficult (impossible) to imagine that people have to do this every day just to survive. Of course, you see scenes like this in movies, on the news; but up close, when you look into people’s eyes – when they look into yours, you are overwhelmed with sadness. And you think, where did the water come from anyway? The ditch at the bottom of the street/hill? The pond on the corner where all the garbage floats? Or maybe some far-away UN dispensing station. How many trips up the hill do they have to make each day? What do they do with the water? Do they have to choose whether to cook or drink? I suppose washing is out of the question. This was my first foray into the real Haiti. Will it hurt each time? I haven’t even considered venturing into the heart of Port-au-Prince, which is a lawless no-man’s-land (and off-limits anyway). Survival there is even harder. How will I last here two years? Will I become immune? Can anyone make a difference?
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