My Haiti
Mission Trip
Feb. 7-11, 2005
By Peter Rieke
How was Haiti?
Depressing, yet uplifting. Sad, yet joyous. Poor, yet rich.
Dependent, yet proud. Cursed, yet blessed
I was a part of
2 teams - a medical team from Christ Covenant Church in Matthews, N.C.
and the Samaritan's Feet Shoe of Hope team - the former caring
for hundreds of sick children at a medical clinic and the latter washing
and fitting over 800 pairs of dirty feet with new shoes from the USA.
We worshipped and we prayed often.
Over the next
weeks I will be sharing many stories with each one of you from my Haiti
experience. All will eventually be written and dedicated to a website
with plenty of photos. Some I will have a chance to tell you
personally. My prayer is that at least one story will move you to pray
for and/or support a child in need in Haiti, as there are so many.
One short
story. Every morning before we opened the medical clinic, we
participated in a brief worship service led by the local pastor. The
congregation was about 40 waiting patients and about 5 nurses. I have
never heard such joyful, exuberant and clear singing. There were no
backup instruments - only hands clapping. All sang and the hills were
filled with beautiful Creole worship melodies - all sung to the glory of
God. I wondered how such sick people could sing so wonderfully and yet
healthy and relatively wealthy people sing so poorly (including myself)?
Stories From Haiti:
A Man and A Child
A Man Named Joseph
Dou-Dou
Samaritan's
Feet
www.samaritansfeet.org
A Man and a Child
On the last afternoon in Haiti, we approached
the village of Torbeck by bus. Our team of 12 with 15 tubs of new
athletic shoes were preparing ourselves for the last foot-washings and
shoe-fittings of the week. We were tired, hot, covered with dust, and
yet anxious to complete our mission. The bus hit another rock and
bounced everyone at least a foot in the air. No one seemed to notice.
As we exited the bus slowly, we approached the one-room, unfinished
church where the pastor greeted us enthusiastically. The shining
blue-azure sea beckoned us a few feet away. If only I had brought my
bathing suit, my tired body would have welcomed a cool dip. Not now. An
event was going to happen which I could not even guess.
We unloaded our tubs of shoes, wash-cloths, towels, soap, washing bins
and set them up in an orderly fashion in another more unfinished
building behind the church. Maybe this was the fellowship hall? A few
rice farmers from the area watched us as we worked. We gathered water
from the tilapia farm ponds for our foot-washing basins. Everyone was
assigned a station - foot measurer, foot washer and fitter, runner,
photographer, translator, crowd control, and substitutes. And we
started.
Hundreds of children and their parents filled our area within minutes.
Word had spread quickly that we were there. An email broadcast at home
could not have gotten the message out quicker.
I was assigned the 3rd washbasin station with my clean water, bar of
soap, towel and wash cloth. After I washed the feet of the first child,
everything was dirty. I soon forgot this fact and focused on each child.
Each pair of feet was different. Some were consumed with bug bites, some
with various stages of infection. A beautiful smiling brown face matched
each pair of feet. The wonder and awe in each pair of eyes were the
motivation that kept me going, washing and fitting for the next 2.5
hours, dripping sweat from my brow as I labored joyfully over each tiny
pair of newly cast feet.
The pastor signaled the little girl with the dirty once-red dress
towards me. She saw me and her eyes filled with terror. She began
screaming and turned around to run. The pastor stopped her, talked to
her and lifted her onto the bench in front of me. She made every effort
to jump off the bench but it was too high for her. I asked the pastor
why. He said that she had never been so close to a white man before and
it scared her. I knew that I must act quickly. I began washing my scared
friend's dirty bare feet. She had had no shoes. I prayed for her. I
carefully dried her feet and spread lotion all over her feet. I called
out her shoe size of child "12" and a beautiful pair of white new Reebok
shoes were handed to me for her. I placed new white socks on her and
carefully placed each shoe on her feet as I felt her slowly relax and
let me work with her. As I tied the laces on her new shoes on her clean
moist feet, I noticed a faint smile break out on her face. I hugged her
and she hugged me back. I kissed her forehead, prayed a quick prayer. I
lifted my once-frightened friend towards the pastor. He smiled and
called forward the next child to my station. I took a deep breath and
held back the tears.
By Peter Rieke, Samaritan's Feet Shoe of Hope Project- Haiti, Feb. 7-11,
2005
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the Stories
A Man Called Joseph
On my first morning in Haiti, I participated
with the medical team I was with at the Cambry medical clinic in Les
Cayes, treating about 50 sick children and adults. They were all waiting
for us when we arrived around 9:00am. I was told many had started
queuing up for their right to see the doctor around 6:00am. Many had
walked great distances.
Our medical team consisted of one doctor, one nurse, three people who
knew a little bit about medicine (from past experience) and three
spiritual advisors/helpers. I was in the latter group. As spiritual
advisors/helpers we were to talk with the patients in the waiting areas.
Anything we could do to make them more comfortable and let them know who
we were was our mission.
The 3rd person we talked to with the help of our translator, Maxim was
Joseph. Joseph appeared unusually thin and responded to our questions
minimally. He told us he was extremely weak, suffering from headaches
and stomach aches. He also told us he was worried about his daughter.
Joseph's story unraveled before us when his brother Robert came to us
and spoke in broken English: "I came here to help Joseph with his
problems. And he has many…."
Robert explained to us that their father had fathered 21 children out of
wedlock all over Haiti. He knew only 5 of his brothers. Joseph was one
of them. He was afraid that Joseph was falling into the same pattern as
his father. Joseph had already one daughter out of wedlock and his
girlfriend was pregnant with another (by Joseph). We met Joseph's
girlfriend, a beautiful young girl, holding Joseph's sick daughter and
very pregnant. Robert wanted us not to only heal Joseph's physical
problems but also his spiritual problem. For Robert was a believer and
Joseph was not.
We spoke to Joseph about our faith, a belief in God and a son named
Jesus who loved him, and asked him to accept the message of love and
hope of Christ. Joseph accepted. However, we were not sure about his
response. He was weak and he might be only saying words in his weakened
state to appease us. We prayed over Joseph. We moved on to meet and
greet other patients.
Ten minutes had passed before Robert came rushing to me asking me to
find a doctor. I soon realized why. Joseph was lying down on the bench,
his entire body twitching uncontrollably. I broke into the doctor's
office and asked him to come see Joseph right away.
Dr. Chris came to Joseph on the bench and realized that we needed to
move him immediately to a bed in one of the clinic rooms where he could
better diagnose the illness. This we did. Joseph's girlfriend and
daughter and Robert followed. I would not see or hear from them for the
next hour.
When Robert and Joseph came out of the doctor's office with their new
bags of medicines, Joseph was walking and talking strongly. Robert
seemed happy. He told me that the doctor had diagnosed Joseph with
pneumonia and with antibiotics, vitamins and food he should be fine in a
few days. Robert could not wait to tell me that Joseph had accepted
Christ as his Savior from his heart in the doctor's office and promised
to marry his girlfriend. Dr. Chris had not only written Joseph a
prescription for his physical illness but had given Joseph a spiritual
prescription for his life.
I was deeply moved. I had helped witness with my team to a man named
Joseph. Joseph will no longer imitate the life of his father but rather
his true Father in Heaven. I am sure of it.
By Peter Rieke, Samaritan's Feet Shoe of Hope Project in Haiti, Feb.
7-11, 2005,
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Dou-Dou
Dou-Dou means "black man" in African I was
told. Dou-Dou is also a very large black man who I met in Haiti. At
first appearance, Dou-Dou looked like the perfect thug or gangster. You
still read about them as they create havoc throughout the country of
Haiti in the name of Aristide (past-President of Haiti, now deposed to
South Africa). But after one minute of talking to Dou-Dou, one realizes
that he is a very kind and gentle man, offering all of himself in order
to make one feel at home in a country which is neither always safe nor
comfortable.
Dou-Dou met us at the airport. He saw to it that our over-sized tubs of
new shoes and medicine were not more confiscated than they were by
customs. He gave our customs officials a thorough tongue-lashing when he
saw they took our precious baby-formula (only one month past-dated). I
knew at that point that Dou-Dou was our man in Haiti.
Dou-Dou led us through the chaotic and somewhat dangerous crowds outside
the airport. Many people were trying to compete to carry our tubs and
luggage. Dou-Dou would have none of it as he guided us to the van and
bus waiting for us. I somehow felt assured that all would be well. And
this was just the beginning.
Dou-Dou was our protector, our driver, our translator, our baggage
handler, our negotiator, our guide and our favorite person. Dou-Dou was
the gentle giant who took care of us, yet struck fear in anyone who
might cause trouble for us. Dou-Dou's neck was as thick as his head,
reminding me of a bulldog. He told me he once lifted weights. Dou-Dou
always rolled up his tight T-shirt sleeves to make sure everyone saw his
bulging arms.
The last day, our group wanted to present Dou-Dou with a new pair of
shoes. His shoe size was "14" and the only size "14" athletic shoes we
had were being worn by our tall leader, Manny. Manny was willing to give
Dou-Dou his almost new size "14"s under one condition - that he wash the
feet of Dou-Dou. Dou-Dou was not ready for this. This simple act of
kindness Dou-Dou could not understand, even though he had seen our group
wash hundreds of dirty children's feet all week. Why? Dou-Dou was too
embarrassed. He wanted to wash his feet first before anyone washed them.
Dou-Dou, the big black man from Haiti, our guardian angel, gratefully
accepted his size "14" shoes from Manny without a foot washing. For who
was going to argue with him?
Thank you, Dou-Dou for your gentle kindness and protection. And maybe
the next time you will let me wash your feet.
By Peter Rieke, Samaritan's Feet Shoe of Hope Project, Haiti 2005 trip
(Feb. 7-11
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