Djare

It is amazing how “normal” certain things have become to us after only living as missionaries in Haiti for three months. Sometimes when I sit down and really think about some of the things I see or do on any given day, I just just shake my head and laugh a little.

Some people have told me that they like reading deeply emotional, though provoking type blogs from people in the mission field, but sometimes, they are just interested in the day to day life of the people they support. I (Joel) have gone back and forth about writing this blog, for what will soon be obvious reasons. If you are interested in “day to day life” details, you are in luck. I usually like to post some nice looking Caribbean beach pictures, or some amazing food pictures on Facebook.. I try not to make a point to highlight any of the challenges or struggles that we deal with here.

It’s not always beautiful, or fun here. Please don’t read this at the dinner table.

If you don’t already know the Kreyol language, you are going to know what the word “djare” means after reading this.
The following is a snapshot of my life, taken this past Tuesday afternoon. I had been dealing with some kind of illness for a couple days, my intestines hurt most of the time and I had occasional djare. Life goes on. I had to purchase a couple of Motorcycles in town. I know what you are thinking… “Sounds real rough….” Hear me out. First off, these are not Harleys, they are cheap little Chinese bikes used for everything here. One for our Prenatal program, one for our Haitian HR manager, Renel. I had told Renel I would take him into town at 2pm. He was very excited. I got tied up in all sorts of other things and we finally left around 3pm. I had our driver take us in so we could buy both bikes and ride them back. 

There are probably around a billion places to buy a Haojin moto in Cap. Most of these shops are smaller than a walk in closet. By the time we had stopped at at least 4 or 5 places I started feeling a bit more uncomfortable than “normal”. I had no idea this seemingly easy task would end up being so difficult ( I could say that about almost everything I do here). I was looking for the cheapest/most basic Haojin moto and was not finding any. We stopped at the little shop where I had purchased my moto in October, they were putting the padlocks on the doors for the day. After brief conversation with my driver, we found out that they had what we needed, and would be willing to open back up for our business! I did not know it at the time, but one the bikes I had verbally agreed to purchase was still in a crate, in pieces. The shop owner soon had 4 or 5 guys working to get the bikes out of the small depot and assembled. My condition is deteriorating quickly. I am getting sweaty, hurting inside. Honestly, I am nervous. Freaking out a bit actually. It’s about all I can do to hold “it” off. I am downtown, on one of the busiest streets, at one of the busiest times. We DO NOT have options here. The closest bathroom I know of is on the other side of town. There are tons of people everywhere. At this point, I have told my Haitian friends that I am absolutely not OK. 

They knew exactly what I was scared of…. I eventually lost control for a second and “it” happened. I regained myself, but seriously….. This is a problem. This is not over. I am in rough shape and nowhere near home. I’m pretty sure time stood still for a while at this point. Then, one of my friends says “Hey, this guy can help you. Follow this guy!” So, I did just that. I followed “this guy” down alleys, up stairs, through buildings, up more stairs etc etc into someones house 3 stories above the street. We weave through a cement labyrinth with bedsheets in all the doorways and then he points to it- a wooden door propped open a bit in the corner.

Interior rooms in concrete buildings with no power are dark. Very dark. I did my phone out of my pocket- 8 % battery and I needed a flashlight. There was a toilet in the room and literally nothing else. No paper or cloth of any kind. I will spare you the details at this point of the story but I can tell you I had a lot of thoughts going through my head while I was in that room. I shook my head in disbelief. I had some questions for God. Then, my situation got a little more interesting! A man ( I am assuming it was his house) came into the room. Yeah, thats right. You might think my kreyol is good enough to get myself out of most situations, but you’d be wrong. At that moment the only words I could muster in kreyol were “mwen regrete”(I’m sorry) and “bon swa” (good afternoon). After our brief conversation, he left. So did I.

Before "it" happened

I never saw the gentleman that brought me up there again. I waited around for another 30 minutes feeling and smelling fantastic. Finally they were done. Now, I just had to straddle a brand new motorcycle for the 30 minute trip home dodging crazy drivers, pedestrians, countless animals, potholes etc before it got too dark.

That happened. It was awful, but it was my Tuesday afternoon. I didn’t tell anybody about Jesus, I didn’t save any souls. There’s a chance I had some thoughts I regret.

I hope this didn’t offend anybody. I really had no intention of sharing this publicly, but everyone said I had to. Hopefully it gave you a good laugh along with a little look into real life for me. In case you are wondering, I am feeling much better now.