i’m currently sitting, sweating, on a mattress on the floor of the YWAM PaP base. the fan blowing on me just got unplugged for a lady to plug in her computer. outside, i hear the children of the orphanage already up and running around the playground with careless joy for the day. in the distance, another plane lands on the airstrip of Tuissant Louverture just a few miles away. the skies are clear, but in my head is the worst fog i’ve experienced in a long while.
it began yesterday morning, saying our goodbyes in st. marc. i woke up at 4:25, got out of bed a little later and went for a morning swim with the sunrise. the pool was surprisingly warmer than the now-cool 83-and-dark-ness of the dawn. i prayed and thanked God for my time in St. Marc, asking Him to continue the work He’s started in me here; among other things. i showered at the pool, and headed home to change and load my bags for our 5:30 departure.
walking down to base, the only thing thicker than the swarm of mozzis, was the swarm of people and their sincere love in their goodbyes, especially at 5:30 (which i’ve decided, isn’t really that early anymore, especially when it’s already bright as mid-day). but goodbyes, even in the thick of love and thankfulness, are never easy.
i will miss each one of these people for so many more reasons than i can manage to communicate, especially right now. i will miss Sarah, my one-on-one and fellow teacher, for our many moments of bonding over challenges and ridiculous norms of life. i don’t consider myself a funny person, but i could always make her laugh at my simple nuances. i will miss Bryan (hereon: B Rock) for his ever-joyful personality, his sarcastic, witty, borderline-naive sense about him, even for his eclectic taste in music (k.c. and jojo to miley cyrus to justin beiber to rascal flatts to ludacris). i will miss hearing Ben say “Come on!!!” and “Nike, just do it!” or “weeiirrrddd!”. I will miss his voice leading worship and his generous encouragement and positive outlook. i’ll miss the never-complaining, never-negative spirit of J Ruggs (Jesse needed a nickname) as he always greeted everyone with a smile and likely never knew a stranger.
i could, and would go on, and on, and on, save for the fact i would likely burst into tears at any given moment. each person here has touched my life in such a way that i will desperately miss their quirks and the way they each contributed to just my every normal day.
saying goodbye to philipson, i found out that he was actually going to come with us (me, jenna, anne, stacia, lisa and ronald) to Port-au-Prince to see us off. as i got on the bus after dishing out hugs like candy on halloween, i didn’t turn around to look back. it would be way too hard after my goodbyes. although i didn’t cry, my body (already exhausted from the lack of sleep) was emotionally spent and aching. i literally felt sick to my stomach.
the dissonance began on the bus ride. i found that i couldn’t think. i couldn’t pray. i barely managed to carry on a conversation with philipson. i was void of the cognitive process, a state i haven’t found myself in often, yet can not seem to shake.
we stopped at the airport to drop off jenna. more goodbyes. you’d think i’d be a pro at this by now. we waited as ronald and philipson looked for a person (whom they didn’t know what she looked like, or her name) for about an hour. anne and i got off the bus to find a bathroom and hopefully seek out some last-minute, early-morning plantains.
we found a gas station with a small coffeehouse next door, and managed to use their bathroom. after ronald and philipson got back, the 4 of us scouted out street food. after deeming 8 am an inappropriate time for fish stew or rice and beans, anne and i settled on bananas and cokes; hey, we were starving at this point!
we made it to New Life Orphanage, the property on which the YWAM PaP base rents a house for its center. they are running Mission Adventures through here this summer, so it is sort of abuzz and chaotic. my plans to spend the day reflecting and journaling (which i desperately need to catch up on and document this past week and a half), were thwarted when they decided to go out to a tent community in Cite Soliel, one of the poorest parts of Port-au-Prince. Anne and i went along, (sidenote: we stopped at a gas station, and ben (different ben, here in PaP until tomorrow) asked if anyone could speak creole to the attendant. i told him i knew a little french, and he asked me to explain to him how much gas and change he wanted/needed in american, etc. without any thought i found myself speaking a perfectly crafted sentence, and translating his answer back to ben. great, my last day in haiti and i’m finally learning the language.)
in Cite Soliel, you can imagine . . . it was sunny and tres chaud! looking back, i perhaps shouldn’t have gone. i was not in the mood for people, heck i could barely handle myself. i found myself cringing as some of the half-naked children vied for my attention and tried to hold my hands. i prayed for brokenness as i saw the depths of poverty, the pits of hopelessness within the tents of that city. in my hour there, i was so sweaty; but i couldn’t even imagine how hot and frustrated the people that live there must be, at all times. i was so discouraged by how seemingly unchanged my heart was at the time, but looking back i think it was and is my general lack of processing that has prevented me from taking on any additional attachment or compassion. which i am not trying to excuse, only explain. i know its still wrong, and trust me, i prayed against it as much as i could manage, but you can not fill if you are not first filled yourself.
we got back for lunch and i laid down for a nap, which i wavered in and out of consciousness for a couple hours before waking in an even greater cloud than i had first been in. in a stupor of self-pity and mourning, i moped around until dinner, not really able to process the fact that i am leaving. this has been such a surreal day of mental limbo, one i can only equate to the drive back from arkansas in january in which i had no foot in either city; great grief in leaving, as well as returning.
during dinner, we come to find that philipson had not even left PaP, so we get to spend a little more time with him. overwhelmed by the influx of MA-ers that arrive for that evenings worship service, he and i decided to take a walk around the base to get away from the hustle and bustle. as i enter the worship service, i feel void of all ability to sing praise, so instead, i worship from outside of the chapel, on the step of a building directly across from the churches doors. i find peace in the solace of my last Haitian night-sky-scape, even though i feel distant from the presence of the Lord. how was i going to be able to do this, to say goodbye to a place and people i have come to just absolutely adore?
well, it came and it went with my goodbyes to philipson and mike (whom i also met in St. Marc; he went back to the states for a month before returning to haiti to work with mission adventures). as i bid them farewell, i quickly choked back my tears and ran inside, visibly wrenched from the heartache that goodbye’s elicit. i sat in bitterness towards the coming’s and going’s that have been friendships of the past 4 months, and shortly retired to bed for another sleepless night. between the bites of the mozzis, and tickle of the crawling ants, and the tossing, turning, and snoring that results from sharing a room with 5 people, i didn’t get much sleep. at all. i got up several times to reapply bug spray, and once to get my earplugs. even though my alarm was set for 6:30, i decided to get out of bed already when i couldn’t sleep past the sun anyways.
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