Last morning in Haiti

A light rain falls over our heads, drowning out the sounds of the unknown people in the car across the street, and giving us momentary relief from the hopeful crowing of roosters that lasts all night long. It is still dark and we had no power tonight, so I use my flashlight to try to drive back cockroaches as I get a drink of water from our 5 gallon jug. I hope our mouse isn’t nearby, or one of his unknown and possibly hundreds of offspring. We have caught 8 mice in our house in the last month.

Drums. Always the drums from all night church or voodoo services beat into the too-dark night. I listen for any sounds that someone is trying to break into our house. The kidnappings have become very common on our street and I am so worried that we will be attacked. Three weeks ago we lay awake two nights in a row listening to gunfire. We found out that it was an attempted kidnapping just down the street from us. At that point we decided to move up our return date. Yesterday one of our American friends was dragged from her car, beaten, and robbed while driving down a street that Carl drives on every day for his work. Haiti is not for the faint of heart.

The rain stops, and the world begins to lighten. Dump trucks begin their loud tired trek down our street. Roosters begin to crow in earnest, and dogs bark. Someone is playing “Oh, What a Friend We Have in Jesus” on the radio in Creole, and our neighbors wake up, banging their tin doors and tin pots around, getting ready for a day of sweeping dirt, wearing dirt, tasting dirt. Hopefully the rain will keep the dust down today, but then I remember that it doesn’t matter for us, we flying back to the States today.

I am not sad to leave this troubled island, but I am sad to leave behind the people that I have come to care about over the past 9 months, both Haitians and Americans. I will miss the children the most, the children with their bright, hopeful smiles, the smiles that don’t last into adulthood here. I will miss the adrenaline rush of Haitian traffic, the smile on my daughter’s face when the city power turns on, and odd freedom of living a developing country without all the regulations that keep life organized.

However, it is time to go home. The orphanage no longer needs us here. We have done what we could for them. It is time to support our own family, to give our kids their normal lives and friends back, and to find new ways of serving in our own community.

Thank you all for journeying with us. The internet has been so poor here that I haven’t been able to upload pictures, so when we are a bit settled I will post pictures from our trip. Please think of me today as I travel internationally with all three kids! Carl will be following in a week, he has to finish wrapping up our lives and his job here, and he is going to bring back the dog we got here who has faithfully protected us.

See you all soon!

Krystal