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Catching Up
At the end of each day in Haiti, I've been using this blog as a way to come to terms with the emotional whirlwind of my service there. Now that I'm back home, I realize I haven't even begun to unpack the feelings I'd been packing away.
For example, I showed my wife some photos taken while I was giving CPR to the old woman who died with my hands on her heart. It was the first time I'd cried since leaving home. And those tears weren't just for that lady whose time had come, but for all the things I could not do, that could not be done.
I also cried when I saw a photo of the clean, clear water spurting from the newly dug well after Dave hooked up power to the pump. Those tears were for the things we could do, that can be done.
Sadness and joy so close together, like the Port au Prince hovels side by side with mansions. What a lesson.
That last night in Haiti I sat up drinking beers with Rick Gosser, a 20-year veteran of service in Haiti. Rick pointed out that Haiti isn't unique in having both impoverished and wealthy people. But in Haiti, it's all jumbled together.
It's also a glimpse into our own possible future. Deforestation, soil exhaustion, overpopulation, air pollution, traffic, toxic waste, water shortages, inflation, economic collapse, political paralysis -- our children and grandchildren could all end up in some kind of Haiti.
There's an opportunity here to solve a lot of these problems. There's an opportunity here to read the writing on the wall, and act before we're forced to do so. And there's a personal opportunity for me, too, as I recover the emotions I hadn't had time to feel, to fully realize the degree to which I'm not from another planet than Haiti, but from the same small world.
I will always owe a debt to the people of Grand Bois for letting me serve in a small way; for teaching me so much. This blog started with me offering readers the chance to see me change. Whether that happened is for you to judge. From my point of view, I've been offered a great gift: A glimpse of the wonderful gift of hope at the bottom of Pandora's box of woes.
P.S. Please stay tuned. Now that I've got the bandwidth, I'll be posting some photographs of the events I've described.
For example, I showed my wife some photos taken while I was giving CPR to the old woman who died with my hands on her heart. It was the first time I'd cried since leaving home. And those tears weren't just for that lady whose time had come, but for all the things I could not do, that could not be done.
I also cried when I saw a photo of the clean, clear water spurting from the newly dug well after Dave hooked up power to the pump. Those tears were for the things we could do, that can be done.
Sadness and joy so close together, like the Port au Prince hovels side by side with mansions. What a lesson.
That last night in Haiti I sat up drinking beers with Rick Gosser, a 20-year veteran of service in Haiti. Rick pointed out that Haiti isn't unique in having both impoverished and wealthy people. But in Haiti, it's all jumbled together.
It's also a glimpse into our own possible future. Deforestation, soil exhaustion, overpopulation, air pollution, traffic, toxic waste, water shortages, inflation, economic collapse, political paralysis -- our children and grandchildren could all end up in some kind of Haiti.
There's an opportunity here to solve a lot of these problems. There's an opportunity here to read the writing on the wall, and act before we're forced to do so. And there's a personal opportunity for me, too, as I recover the emotions I hadn't had time to feel, to fully realize the degree to which I'm not from another planet than Haiti, but from the same small world.
I will always owe a debt to the people of Grand Bois for letting me serve in a small way; for teaching me so much. This blog started with me offering readers the chance to see me change. Whether that happened is for you to judge. From my point of view, I've been offered a great gift: A glimpse of the wonderful gift of hope at the bottom of Pandora's box of woes.
P.S. Please stay tuned. Now that I've got the bandwidth, I'll be posting some photographs of the events I've described.
Labels: denoon haiti, grand bois haiti, haiti, servehaiti, webmd writer haiti
3 Comments:
Your gift of kindness and caring as well as your hands on in the medical arena will live on for a long, long time in the minds of those who met you at that clinic. To those of us who want to go but do not, thank you for your courage and your resilience. Please keep your readers posted on your emotional re-entry.
God Bless you...Barbara
Changes everything, doesn't it? I was wondering how soon we would hear from you again...happy to know you're starting to process. Take your time and be kind to yourself...
Thanks for your writings throughout the past week...it's been a journey for us all.
Kenbe fem, Liz
Thanks, Dan, for inviting us to share in the transformation you are experiencing through your work and time in Haiti. It has been a gift to travel this journey with you. Re-entry into life as you used to know it can be very challenging. Take it easy. You have been blessed with a new perspective, a fresh and no doubt even more grateful outlook on life and the simple joys it has to offer. This is just one of the many gifts given so freely and loveingly by our friends in Haiti. To share one of my favorite Haitian proverbs, "Lord, teach us to laugh again but never let us forget we cried." Those tears, so often delayed in being wept, are also an important part of that journey. Mesi, zanmi mwen, for opening your heart to this experience and to the many people you met and touched along the way.
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