The Port au Prince and the Pauper

Extended stays in foreign countries occasionally avail themselves unique opportunities that would otherwise be impossible. On Wednesday evening, I found myself people-watching behind the iron bars of a window in an austere apartment in Port au Prince, the sliver of a white face hidden beneath a linen curtain. My inconspicuous vantage point allowed me an opportunity to witness unadulterated life in Haiti’s capital: children playing soccer amid the rubble of concrete and discarded plastic; women in rags peddling an indistinct stew on smoldering embers; colorful "tap taps" (overburdened pick-ups) weaving through the crowds and depositing passengers without stopping. The surrounding air was saturated with the smell of poverty: thick plumes of exhaust, smoke from burning charcoal, and stagnant water collected in trenches along the street. Equally ubiquitous were the boisterous noises that typify life in the city: the relentless honking of horns, the emaciated dogs fighting desperately for scraps, and the elevated Haitian voices unsuccessfully haggling over prices they cannot afford.

A Creole sign reads "No Vacancy"

Unlike previous trips to the capital that entailed an evening spent behind the well fortified walls of a missionary guest house (with a pool), I spent Wednesday night in a dormitory afoot the cinder block tenements that line the hills of the Carrefour Feuille district of Port au Prince. My hosts, mostly college students my age, asked that I remain out of sight, lest I solicit an uninvited visitor in the middle of the night; needless to say, I complied. Rather than spend the evening brooding on what could be described as mild discomfort, I stayed up late into the night talking to my roommates about the future of Haiti. The pupils studying "living languages" (French, Spanish and English) were eager to translate as the agronomists, biologists, information scientist and dentist shared the breadth of their vision over the dim light of an oil lamp. The consensus arrived at by the students was simple: "life in Haiti is difficult but we have the power to change that". Of course the ambience was not entirely somber; my friends could not hide their smiles when they began talking about their girlfriends or their favorite type of music.

A warm welcome from my loved ones

Thursday was unsurprisingly full of surprises. Pastor Travis arrived from Sanford, North Carolina sans luggage and we spent the better part of our morning tracking a suitcase and a garment bag. (Note: demanding a clothing allowance in Port au Prince’s primeval airport is futile.) Our countless necessary errands (and a few unnecessary ones) gave us an extensive tour of the city, from the Royal Palace and the National Cathedral, to Petionville and the infamous Cite Soleil. The day that began at 4:30 a.m. with quarreling merchants outside of my window ended with a double serving of Evangelism and perhaps the soundest sleep I have had in years.

(David DISCLAIMER: My trip to PAP was atypical of a routine mission trip to Bayonnais. PLEASE do not be frightened by the idea that you will spend any time in Port au Prince. If you do find yourself in Haiti's capital, make the best of your time there! The hardships found outside of one's comfort zone are ephemeral but the experiences endured last forever. You will not be endagered, I promise.)