Survival Purse

My parents came to visit me here in Gonaives about a month ago.  It was a great week spent showing them around the city and introducing them to all my students, friends, and neighbors.

We climbed the mountain...

We shopped in the market, spent lots of time in Jubilee, and took a dusty motorcycle ride to the beach.

We made some great memories and had a wonderful time together, but there is one event from their trip here that I will never forget.  One day, we decided to take a motorcycle ride about an hour into the countryside to another "city" called Ennery.

I drove my mom on the back of my motorcycle while my dad borrowed a friend's moto.  As we were leaving the city, we realized there was a gas shortage.  My tank was already full and my dad thought he had about a half tank so we weren't concerned about making it there and back.

Little did we know, the moto my dad was driving had a gas leak.  We made it the resort in Ennery and we stopped to walk around the grounds and have a coke.

As we were sitting, my dad mentioned that he had felt gas dripping on his leg while he was driving.  Bad news.  The gas station in Ennery had no gas either so our only choice was to hope for the best and head back to Gonaives immediately.

We left around 3 PM and made it about two minutes down the road when my dad's moto ran completely out of gas.  I talked to some men on the road and asked for their help in transferring some gas out of my tank and putting into my dad's tank.  Of course, neither men had anything we could use to siphon the gas.  Our only option was to use a crusty dirty water bottle that they found on the ground to drain gas from my tank into the bottle and then pour it into my dad's tank. Until it was all said and done, it took about twenty minutes for this process.

It took a while to get my dad's moto started and we decided to drive as fast as possible so all the gas wouldn't have a chance to drip out before we made it back to Gonaives.  That plan didn't work because we made it only a few more minutes down the road before my dad broke down again.   Gas in Haiti is bad and very dirty.  Over time, the junk in the gas settles at the bottom of the gas tank.  So, when you run out of gas, that junk clogs your carburetor.  Our problem was more complicate this time.

There we were on the side of the road basically in the middle of nowhere.  Thankfully, a moto taxi driver past us and asked if we wanted help.  I explained our situation and he pulled out a bunch of tools and right there on the road started taking the moto apart.  Thirty to forty-five minutes later we had somehow attracted a small crowd of men all attempting to offer their two cents on our problem.  All the gas that we had transferred from my tank had leaked out.  I didn't have much money on me.  I bought half a gallon of very questionable gas from a random man at outrageous price.  And the leftover money was just enough to pay the man for helping us.

For the third time, we attempted to drive back to Gonaives.  The moto seemed to be running well for about half a mile until it broke down again.  At that point in time, the sun was going down and we still had at least 45 minutes to go until we reached Gonaives.  Being stranded after dark was not something that I wanted to deal with.  I did the only think I could think of in that moment.  I emptied my purse (that was made by men and women in Jubilee) and transferred my belongings into my mom's small backpack.  Then, we looped my purse around a bar on the front of my dad's motorcycle.  My mom with Herculean strength, held her arms behind her back (all while sitting on the back of my moto) and gripped the purse as I drove and towed my dad.

Now, doing that in America would be a challenge.  Here in Haiti, we were dealing with giant potholes, gravel roads, and goats and pigs to dodge.  There were mountains to go over, too.  My little green moto did the best she could, but I could only pull my dad about one third of the way up the mountain without fear of my mom flying right off the back as she tried to hold onto the purse for dear life.  So, he and my mom jumped off and pushed his moto up the mountain and I met them at the top.  Thankfully, that meant that we were able to coast for as long as possible as we went down the other side of the mountain.

Three hours after leaving Ennery we made it to Gonaives just as it got dark. It was truly a miracle that we made it back in one piece!

Shout out to 2nd Story Goods for their amazing quality made "survival" purses!  Everyone should have one of these bags in case of emergency (and because their are beautiful, too)!

Sixteen years old and living on the streets.  No family that she would speak of.  That is where we found her.  She was bleeding, feverish, and so weak she needed my support to walk.  She was shy, but explained to us the horrific story of how she was gang raped.

I helped her into the truck and held her hand as we drove to the hospital.  We were turned away and told to go to the police.  The police sent us to the court house.  The court house sent us back to the hospital again, but the doctor was already gone for the day.  We drove to a second hospital.  They wouldn't help her unless we paid someone off.

We took her to Jubilee and helped her shower.  We gave her tylenol and clean clothes.  She wouldn't eat.  We could barely get her to drink.  She spent the night with a family in Jubilee and the next day we returned to the hospital.  The doctor was arrogant and rude.  He called her a liar in front of everyone in the room.  There was no privacy.  Women in labor were all around us.  Blood was on the floor of the exam room.  He wasn't compassionate or gentle.  I held her hand and begged her to cooperate with him for her exam.

They did a pregnancy test and and HIV test.  It confirmed my fears.  She was HIV positive.  Thankfully, not pregnant.  The doctor pulled me aside and told me the news.  Me, not her.  I just met the girl the day before, and I was suddenly in that place being given news that would change her life forever.  I had to go outside for air and to let the tears come to my eyes.  Then, because I had no choice, I pulled myself together and went back inside with her.

We were sent to an HIV clinic where she was verbally abused in the waiting room.  Vile disgusting words were said to her until I finally had to have security remove the person from the waiting area.  We met with a counselor for the clinic, but he couldn't put her in the program because she didn't have a permanent address.

We left, feeling defeated.  She was weak.  We found a place for her to stay for the night.  But, we didn't know where she could live.  I called the orphanages that I knew of, but no one could take a 16 year old with AIDS.  The next day, my Haitian friend took her to a Sisters of Charity hospice care facility outside of the city.  By the Grace of God, they admitted her despite the fact that they were already over crowded.  

We visited her regularly and saw her starting to gain strength and weight.  She was going to her HIV appointments at the hospital regularly.  Things were looking up.  We even found a place in Port-au-Prince where she could live after she left hospice.  She said she wanted to change her life.  Get off the streets.  Things were looking up.  

Until one day we went to visit her and she wasn't there.  The nuns said she ran away, the other patients said she was kicked out.  They had our phone numbers but hand't bothered to call us.  She had been gone for five days already.  We searched Jubilee, we asked around.  We couldn't find her.

Two weeks later, she appeared at school and came running to me a smile on her face.  I barely recognized her because she appeared to have gained almost 20 pounds.  She looked healthy.  We sat in the school library to talk.  She explained that after she was sent away from the hospice care, she came looking for me at the school.  However, it was a Saturday so I wasn't there.  She had no where to go.  No one to stay with.  So, she traveled to St. Mark a city about an hour away from Gonaives.  There, she stayed with her friend, a prostitute for two weeks.  She said she missed us and remembered how we helped her.  She said she realized she didn't want that life like her friend so she came back to try and find us again.  

One of our Haitian teachers, offered to let her stay with his family for a few weeks until the home in Port was ready for her.  Again, I thought things were looking up.  But, each day she lived there she caused problem after problem.  Fighting, flirting with neighbor boys, trying to sneak out at night, being disrespectful.  It began to cause major problems for my friend and his family.  My friend was very patient trying to do his best to help her, but it was too much.  His family wanted her gone.  The last straw was when she threatened to poison his friend.  He had to ask her to leave.

After he sent her away, she stayed with a family in Jubilee.  She came to me crying the first day after she was kicked out of his house.  She had nothing to say.  She just looked at me.  I think she knew what she had done.  I tried to explain to her how hard I worked to care for her and find places for her to live.  I reminded her of the times she promised me that she would do her best not to cause problems.  I knew that deep, deep down she wanted to change her life but she wasn't ready to actually do what that requires.  We both knew that until she was ready to do that, there was nothing I could do for her.  She had to cooperate.  No one else could force her to change her lifestyle.  But, she's only sixteen.  A baby having to grow up too fast.

It killed me.  Kills me still.  I want so badly to make her see her worth, her value.  I ache for her to know just how loved she is by me and by her Father.  Knowing that she has a disease that will eventually kill her if it goes untreated, is a weigh on my heart that I cannot explain.  

Over the weekend, she disappeared again.  I have no idea where she is, and I try not to think about what she must be doing to survive.  All I can do is pray.  

I think of her every time that I hear one of my favorite songs because I wish so badly she could know this Love:

Try to stop your love and you would wage a war

Try to stop the very thing you gave your life for

You would come running you'd tear down every wall

All the while you're shouting my love you're worth it all

God you pursue me with power and glory

Unstoppable love that never ends

You're unrelenting with passion and mercy

Unstoppable love that never ends

No sin, no shame, no past, no pain

Can separate me from your love

No height, no depth, no fear, no death

Can separate me from your love

Creative Writing: What would you do if someone stole your toy?

"I would tell him not to do that again because my mom says stealing is bad.  God in Heaven sees everything good that we do and everything bad that we do, but he still loves us.  I would tell him if he sins, he should tell God sorry."

"I would say, "If you stole my toy, you can just keep it."  I would ask my papa to get me a new toy and I would tell my friend not to take the new toy.  I would not say curse words to my friend because I'm just a kid and I go to school."

"I would just let it go, but I wouldn't let that friend come to my house again."

"I would talk to him.  I would tell him, "God doesn't like when people steal." Then, I would pray for him to not steal again.  I would encourage him.  If he asked me for anything, I would give it to him.  I would love him a lot, and I would tell him, "You better not steal again!  When you steal from people, they will want to cut your head off.  If someone cut your head off, you would be sad."

"I would get a dog and have the dog chase him.  Then, he would drop my toy and I would take it back.  I would tell my mama what the person did and my mama would whip him."

"I would turn into Superman and go find him.  I would tell him  not to do that again!"

My Valentine.

One of my students is incredibly socially awkward.  We don't know what exactly is going on with him. But, we are certain we can attribute his issues to the fact that his mother abandoned him at a young age, and he is being raised by people that mistreat him and rarely give him food.

Despite the fact that he is the oldest boy in my class, he is the smallest.  This year, I've seen him come out of his shell more and start to find his place among the other students.  It has been an exciting change to witness, but the best moment of all happened this week.

Everyday after school, Biolan stays late to eat some extra rice.  When he was finished eating and walking away, I called after him.  When he turned around to look, I flashed him the "I love you" sign in sign language.  I had taught it to my class the week before.

When he saw that, his face lit up and he signed "I love you" back to me.  I asked in English, "Biolan, do you remember what that means?!"  He smiled again with a cheeky grin and said in English, "Yep.  I love you." This time in Creole I said, "It's true? You love me?"  Yet again, he smiled at me and just simply said, "Yep" as he turned to leave.

I couldn't ask for a better Valentine than that.

Cast Out Demons

I was unfazed when one of our school cleaning staff sent word that she was ill and would not be able to come to work one Friday in January.  A fever is not uncommon.  I assumed she would be back to work on Monday morning.

Monday morning rolled around.  We had just finished our morning teacher devotions when two of the staff approached me looking concerned.  "P is sick again.  Except, she isn't really sick.  She has a zombie."  

I recognized that use of the word zombie.  In the fall, one of my students had a sister with a "zombie".  In Haiti, when someone has a zombie, it usually means they are being tormented by the demonic.

Rumors tend to spread quickly here, so I decided to pay P a quick visit to see what was really going on.  What I saw and heard from her neighbors was disconcerting to say the least.  She had cuts, scrapes, and welts all over her body.  She was very agitated and not acting like herself at all.  Several neighbor women explained to me that they had witnessed her jumping on her bed and swinging from the rafters of her little one room house.  They said she acted crazy in the middle of the night and ran outside.  When they had to restrain her to get her home, she attempted to fight them.  "It is a zombie," they told me.

Ok.  It was 7:30 AM.  My students would arrive for class in 15 minutes.  What do I do with that information??  "Can I come back after school to pray for her?" I asked the neighbors.

By the end of the school day, most of the school staff had learned (or heard rumor) of what was going on with P.  During the end of the day meeting, I explained to everyone that if they would like to accompany me, I was going to go pray for P.  School was over, they were all free to go home, but every single staff member (15 total people) went together to P's house.

We barely fit inside her tiny house as we made a half circle around her.  My co-teacher talked to her about God's healing power for whatever problem she has in her life.  He lead everyone in worship and we all began to pray for whatever problem P was dealing with.  Eventually, we moved her into the center of the house and we formed a circle around her.

Fresnel, one of our Haitian teachers, began to lead by asking P some simple questions.

"P, who created you?" he asked her.

"Bondye (God)." she responded without making eye contact with him.

"And who is His son that saves us from sin?" Fresnel questioned

"I don't know." she said, eyes fixed on the floor.

"Do you recognize the name 'Jesus'?" He asked her.

"No," she said.

"And what about my name? Or her name?  Or his name?" he asked her as he pointed to several of us in the circle.

"I recognize you all." she said

"No, what are our names?  Tell me one name." he said firmly.

"It's far...I can't remember right now, but I know you." she said.

I think in that moment it became clear to most of us what we were dealing with (Ephesians 6:12).  So, we began to pray again.  Despite Fresnel's attempts to get her to make eye contact with him while we were praying, she continued to look at the floor.  Eventually she sat down in the middle of the circle.  We moved to the floor with her and continued to pray.  Fresnel began to speak directly to her again.

"Where do you come from?" he asked

"By the meat market," she answered.

"Oh yeah?  Well, I'm sending you back to the fire right now," he said to her with complete authority and confidence.  At that, he head shot up immediately and fear was in her eyes.

"Fire?!  Fire?!  No!  No!  I'm not going to the fire!  You can go to the fire!  I'm not going!" she began to shout loudly.

While this was taking place, I began to pray harder asking the Lord to speak to me and reveal where this spirit was attaching itself to her.  I asked for a word that would help us to speed up this process so that this demon would stop abusing her.  Within a minute I very clearly heard, "Neck."  Simple and straightforward.  But, oh me of little faith.  I prayed, "Ok, God was that you??  Really?  Did you just say neck?  If that was you, God, and not my own head, please say it again."  I didn't even have to wait because I heard it again, immediately.  "NECK!"

Afraid to say it loud enough for everyone in the room, I turned to my friend, "Ok, this is weird but God just told me neck...that's all I've got."  She shrugged and at that, we both looked to P's neck.  A blue scarf was tied tightly and multiple times around her neck.

"What is that?" I asked Fresnel.

"I don't know," he said.  "P, who put that on you??" he asked her.  She didn't respond.  "Take that off!" he said.

Someone untied it and handed it to me.  It smelled strongly of incense and was wet.  I immediately went to the door and threw it outside to get it as far away as possible.  As soon as that was removed from her neck, things started happening fast.  She began thrashing around on the floor.  We had to hold her down.  We prayed harder, commanding the demon to leave her body and go back to hell.  She gnashed her teeth and attempted to get away from our grasp.

"Let me go!!!!  No! No!  Leave me alone!  No!" she screamed.

This went on for several minutes until she eventually was still.  Fresnel asked her to stand up and pray with him.  She prayed with him saying "Jesus is Lord."  We formed a circle around her again.  One by one, Fresnel had her say what each of our names were.  She knew every name.  When she got to me she looked up into my face and smiled, "I'll be at work to clean tomorrow."

And she was.  The next day, bright and early with a big smile on her face she was at school and she was P again.  "I slept peacefully.  I didn't hear the voices and I wasn't beaten by the demons last night.  My house was peaceful after you all prayed for me."

Psalm 46:1
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.


Matthew 10:8

Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse those who have leprosy, drive out demons.  Freely you have received; freely give.