It was with this backdrop that, nine weeks after the quake, I arrived in Haiti on my first missions trip. On the face of things, neither church volunteerism nor international travel were strangers to me. I had been actively involved in church throughout my life, and had traveled to many places in the world through my work as a non-profit professional and as a volunteer. Yet, I had only recently begun to understand exactly what missions work is all about and was just beginning to discover that I may indeed have a calling on my heart for missions. I had always thought of “missionaries” as the older ladies dressed in white who sat on the front pews at church and participated in community charity work. I really had no sense of international missions work and its impact on the people it serves. This trip to Haiti was my introduction to missions, and I was eager to fulfill my role as charged by God to be of help to people in need.
Our missions team of twelve—five men and seven women—hailed from several churches in the Maryland, District of Columbia, and Virginia area. Four of us came from my home church, The People’s Community Baptist Church in
Silver Spring, Maryland. Several had previously participated in missions trips, while others like me were experiencing their first. The group was coordinated by Know The Truth International Ministries of Burke, Virginia, under the leadership of executive director Rev. Gerald Robinson. Our primary objective was to begin the rebuilding of a church destroyed by the earthquake, with an overarching goal to bring others to Christ.
We landed midday on a Saturday at the international airport in the capital city of Port-au-Prince. After gathering our bags, many of which were filled with supplies for distribution, we were guided by our host through throngs
of Haitians standing at the airport entrance and spilling out into the street. We could see police officers among the people, keeping them in order. Yet, several teens and children were able to break through the crowds and approach us to ask for money. During the orientations I participated in while preparing for this trip, my teammates and I had been warned in advance about solicitators, and had been told to not give out money, because others on the street would find out, and we could possibly become targets of theft or even violence. Heeding those warnings, we pushed our way through the crowds of people, about 30 yards beyond the airport to what turned out to be our transportation for the week ahead: a huge, open-air truck with two long benches in the back to accommodate us. Several of us sat there while the men loaded our gear on the top of the truck. I could see the streets teeming with people and traffic beyond measure, and was immediately reminded of congestion I had witnessed in poor urban regions of India and Thailand, marveling at how, despite the volume of vehicles and pedestrians, there always seemed to be order.
The earthquake left large crevices in some roads and dusty rubble throughout the city. An otherwise 15-minute drive took well over an hour. Uncollected garbage was everywhere, yet the people took the time to sweep it into neat piles, suggesting to me their deep sense of care for and pride in their city, despite circumstances beyond their control. The air was visibly polluted; a thin dusty haze hung in the air and settled on our sweat-covered skin. It was smoky in some areas where people were burning wood or garbage. We felt compelled to wear face masks whenever we rode through the city. The quake left the city in bewildering ruin: we could drive a block or so and see three buildings in a row still standing, the fourth with a collapsed roof, and the fifth just a pile of rubble.
The thousands of Haitians whose homes were destroyed or unfit for shelter erected tents and shacks throughout park areas in Port-au-Prince. These “tent cities” were crowded, lacked electricity, and relied on a limited water supply. We spent our first afternoon in Haiti in one of the largest tent cities. There we met and prayed with men and women, and boys and girls of all ages. This was my first ever experience evangelizing, and although I was enthusiastic about trying it, I was deeply thankful to be with several teammates as well as our team leader to help out if I faltered. Most of the people we encountered were happy to talk with us. In fact, many waved us over to their tents so we could pray with them. The stories they told us spanned the range from devastating and despairing to uplifting and hopeful. Before the quake, these folks had been living ordinary lives, not unlike my own, and in an instant, the earthquake had relegated them to living in a one-person shack with three other people, bathing with buckets of water in circumstances which were anything but private, managing community sanitation without the necessary resources, and not knowing when their situation would change for the better.I met a 15-year-old girl who had lost both of her parents in the quake. We met others who showed us head injuries and back injuries sustained during the quake. Some had lost hope, while others were faithfully persevering. We prayed with everyone we met and shared tracts of the Gospel of John.
Selene was a lovely young lady who at first appeared too shy to approach us. Her little daughter clung to Selene’s leg as they both watched my teammates and me talk and pray (through translators) with their neighbors. Finally, with a lot of smiling and hand waving on my part, I was able to coax Selene over to talk with us. Immediately, it was clear that she felt the firm and loving tug of the Lord, and she became the first of several we spoke to who took the life-changing step of accepting Christ.
Our team was hosted by the Seminaire de Theologie de la Nouvelle Vie (New Life Theological Seminary.) The three story building stood near the end of a dead-end street. The first and third floors were used as classroom space, while the second floor was home to our hosts, Roger and Margaret Clark, lifelong missionaries based in Haiti since the 1980’s. The third floor was also where most of us slept, scattered about three rooms with floor mats and a couple of bunk beds. Air conditioning was non-existent, and running water was not guaranteed. The three floors were connected by a spiral staircase on the outside of the building and covered with irrepressible vibrant pink blossoms of bougainvillea.
By the grace of God, the seminary sustained virtually no damage from the earthquake, while a building just 50 yards or so down the road was completely destroyed. In fact, all of the buildings immediately surrounding the seminary were free of damage. Yet, each night, the street was transformed into a network of tarps strung from building to building. Neighborhood residents slept on mats under these tarps rather than in their homes for fear of their building collapsing in another quake. There was a significant after-shock while we were there, according to some of my teammates. Amazingly, I managed to sleep right through it.
Our group teamed with twelve Christian motorcyclists from Santa Rosa, California, most of whom, before accepting Christ, used to ride with a different kind of motorcycle gang. In fact, some of them had seen prison time. A third team from upstate New York also joined us. Of the members of those two teams, all but one were men and most of them were either contractors or had had construction experience. There were 27 of us total and we worked together wonderfully. It seemed as though everyone was blessed by the camaraderie and fellowship.
Together, we made significant headway in laying a new concrete foundation for the New Life Church of Croix des Missions. Rev. and Mrs. Jeanty Osnac, the church pastor and first lady, and many of their members, worked with
us side-by-side as we began the church rebuilding process. Their commitment to their church inspired us to do our very best on their behalf. The 100+ degree heat and the high humidity, together made for dangerous heat indexes--indeed, the soles of the gym shoes of one of our teammates actually melted while he wore them at the construction site. We cut, bent and tied rebar (steel bar commonly used to reinforce concrete) and mixed and poured cement. Teammates taught me everything I now know about constructing wire cages and rebar mats. Typically, these types of supplies are pre-fabricated for construction, but we had to make everything from scratch, including saw horses and wire-bending apparatus.
Just before we poured concrete in the last of nineteen foundation holes, we prayed for the church and for Haiti. Each of us on the team had written a personal prayer on a piece of paper, and all of these were placed in that final hole and covered with concrete. The symbolism of prayers laid into the foundation of the church was not lost on any of us.
Since the earthquake, New Life Church has been holding its service outdoors. We worshipped with them at their Sunday service, which began pre-dawn so that it would conclude before the scorching sun could rise too high in the sky. During the service, one of our teammates delivered a stirring sermon in fluent Creole, the language spoken by most Haitians (although French is the official language of the country.)
New Life Church is expected to be completed within the next year or so, as teams of volunteers will continue to visit Haiti to complete various stages of the rebuilding process. In the end, the church will hold 500 people and will provide the sanctuary, classrooms, and a host of other features supporting the ministry.
All told, this was an awesome missions experience. The trip culminated weeks of anxiety about how I would be able to deal with its requirements, virtually all of which were far beyond the borders of my comfort zone: sharing space, sleeping on the floor under a mosquito net, limited bathroom plumbing, cold water showers, and even evangelizing. But truly, God is good. He gave me so much grace to the point where nothing bothered me at all, not even going for two days without a shower when the guest house ran out of bathing water. He also blessed me with a wonderfully supportive team, which made a huge difference. And I found that I absolutely loved the physical work of construction;
even in the extreme heat it was both exhilarating and satisfying.
Darchelle M. Garner is a consultant to non-profit organizations. A native of Connecticut and a long-time Chicagoan, she now lives in Silver Spring, Maryland. She can be reached at darchelleg@aol.com.
