back side of the earth

Bognotte, Haiti, 2007

If the earth had sides, there would be a backside. Politically insignificant countries that have no natural resources, industry, exports, or even any tourist value would be back there. Villages that have no electricity or good drinking water. Homes made of cardboard, that wash away with each heavy rain. Families living ten, twelve, fourteen deep in a 10' x 10' room with a dirt floor, and no door. Parentless children with no hope, no future, no childhood. Who cares about a place like that, back there on that side? 

Haiti is just such a place. It holds no international significance, is politically unstable, and the infrastructure is in such chaos that some have mused it could fall off the face of the earth and no one would notice. Some would even give thanks that this blight on the Western Hemisphere is gone. It has been called the 'graveyard of missions,' as so many have invested years and millions to better the place, but to no avail. 

I lived there in the early 1980s when there was a brutal, but stable dictatorship in power. Life was rough for the average Haitian; food was scarce, jobs were hard to find. Begging children with bloated bellies and orange hair were commonplace. But there was some industry - Rawlings wound baseballs and Judy Bond stitched blouses. Club Med had a resort destination north of Port au Prince, and similar resorts dotted the stunning coastlines. 

My first visit to Haiti since the fall of the Duvalier regime came in 2007 with my family. Though I’d heard it was so, I was still stunned to see the country in such horrible disarray. Assuming democracy was a friend to Haiti, I expected to see some progress. Unfortunately, it was worse. House-size piles of rotting garbage filled the streets. Rivulets of human waste, plastic bottles and filthy water crisscrossed every path. Cement skeletons of unfinished houses occupied lots where children chased away hungry mongrels, evidence of investments gone bad. Crumbling concrete was all that was left of streets and sidewalks whose construction had once been a source of income for so many. Once lush and extravagant playgrounds, beach resorts were barren shells of their former glory. Traffic, typically chaotic, involved playing bumper cars all the way to the guest house, and enduring three minor accidents where no one even stopped to check the damage. Ironically, we were stopped for a missing taillight, with the threat of a thousand-dollar fine. Insanity. 

Somehow, an old friend, Franklin Val, managed to reach the age of 69. We met him in 1984, a pastor and translator with a wife and five children. Well-educated, he spoke French, Creole and English quite well, and frequently translated for us. He owned a beat-up SUV and worked as a driver for foreign visitors (Haitian pastors don't earn a living preaching). It was during one of these chauffeuring gigs, that he encountered the violence of early coup attempts in 1987. While driving for an NBC news crew, Pastor Val was caught in the crossfire. He managed to drive himself to a hospital with four life-threatening gunshot wounds, one to the chest. In a dramatic end to his front teeth, he collapsed face-first at the hospital door. During the fight to save his life, he remembers stating, "I will live and not die!" He had a lot of time to think during recovery. As a result of the burden he felt for so many children wandering the streets in the wake of the violence, he took in 55. He and his sister, Yrma, have been doing so ever since. 

We hired Pastor Val on our visit in 2007, reuniting with an old friend. He brought us up to speed about his family (his wife had passed) and work with the orphans in Bognotte, 25 miles from Port au Prince (but the drive takes almost 2 hours). He told us that their only source of income was his taxi service. He and sister Yrma, 67, were solely responsible for 30 boys and girls. We had heard about all this before we went, so we were prepared to visit and bring gifts. What we saw has forever changed our lives. 

Bognotte is just three miles off the main highway over dusty, then muddy paths. Enterprising teenagers waited at the intersection of the main road with their scooters, ready to transport folks in and out of the backcountry. We carefully picked our way in and out of huge gaps and small creeks in the 'road.’ Pastor Val stopped often during this part of the journey, sometimes checking to see if we could pass, sometimes stopping to chat with a friend. Everyone seemed to know him along the way, calling him “Papi.” 

Upon arrival at the orphanage, our vehicle was swarmed by warm brown faces, toothless grins and shy greetings. So many blancs way out here in the country! The children had obviously worked all morning preparing their home for our visit. The few possessions they had were neatly arranged on a shelf. Nothing was out of place. On a 95-degree day, Steevenson's long-sleeved, plaid flannel shirt was neatly tucked into his jeans, and buttoned to the top. Few were wearing shoes; all were eager to see what we had brought. We distributed small gift bags with candy and toys, and we brought games and crafts to play with the children. A new soccer ball was welcomed with great fanfare. Pastor Val showed us around; there was a main room with a large picnic table and the aforementioned shelf. Two adjacent rooms held squeaky metal bunk bed frames with sheetless thin mattresses lacking pillows and blankets as well. Crumbling walls, dirt floors, and tin roofs (which turned bedrooms into ovens at ten o'clock in the morning) made up the structure. In the back, there was an outhouse. We posed for a photo with the group here. Not a kitchen in sight. We learned that Yrma cooked for the group over an open campfire. For 22 years. There was so much hope in those faces, especially the teenagers. Our daughter connected with another 14-year-old, Stephanie. What a sobering contrast, to think of the opportunities our daughter has compared to what Val's kids were faced with. We were truly overwhelmed. 

But you could tell they saw opportunity packed in our suitcases. This new connection with a more modern world could provide a better life for these little ones, truly the "least of these." Even pushing 70, Pastor Val had the audacity to hope for technologically competent and well-educated students. He showed us his land, 30 acres, where he'd like to build a better facility - a dormitory, clinic, school, and a kitchen that will feed the surrounding community. He talked about computer education, job training and spiritual development that would produce intelligent contributing members of society with strong moral character, the hope of Haiti. 

After a few hours, we headed back down those dusty roads. Lacking even for the burdens he currently carried, Pastor Val still managed to stop along the way home and offer a bag of food or a few gourdes to people he cared for. After 22 years, some of the girls he raised are young women trying to make it on their own. His generosity had long reach. He stopped to speak softly to a drug-crazed man, and refused to give him money based on his answers to questions gently posed. A true pastor. 

So, who cares about Haiti? God does. He cares about each individual in this corner of the backside of the earth. Each of those children bears the image of God, and He has a destiny and a plan for their lives. They are precious in His sight. And God brought this little group to our attention. So we care, too. Heidi Baker, a missionary in Africa, says, "each one, reach one." A simple directive. If we each only did what was put in front of us to do, the body of Christ would accomplish the goals we were asked to achieve on the earth. Problems like those faced in Haiti, are way too large for any one person, or any government to handle. But child by child, orphanage by orphanage, pastor by pastor we can make a difference. Haiti is not forsaken by God. The evidence is overwhelming that He is active and involved. Too many 'coincidences' have surrounded this effort. They are obviously not just coincidences. Divine intervention is at work. I am happy to introduce you to Haiti, and to Pastor Val. Now let's see what God has been up to.