Living Water – a Reflection for
Haiti
Read: John 4:10-15
Two weeks ago, our group of ten
volunteers from the Grosse Pointe United Methodist Church was working
side by side with Haitians in Petit-Goâve, Haiti. Petit-Goâve is
only 73 km west of Port-au-Prince via the national highway, Route
Nationale 2, but it takes roughly 2 hours. Travel takes so long
because the road is what can only be described as organized chaos.
The Route Nationale 2 is only two
lanes wide, with one lane going east and one lane going west. Passing
is a dangerous, white-knuckle inducing process, whereby your
car/truck/motorcycle/tap-tap has to accelerate to near top speed to
maneuver around the car/truck/motorcycle/tap-tap in front of you, all
while navigating turns and avoiding oncoming traffic.
Because of a general lack of access
to clean water, this precious resource had to be shipped from
Port-au-Prince via truck to the house where we were staying. Upon
arrival, the water is poured into a large cistern on the roof of the
home. This is a significant departure from the norm in my current
American life where water arrives to my home with no tangible way to
quantify just how much is available.
Because of the scarcity of water,
our showers had to be relatively brief. The typical routine consists
of turning the shower handle and rinsing briefly – there is no
awaiting the warm water to materialize, because there is no warm
water. Rather, the water temperature closely approximates the ambient
temperature of the environment. Once the body is wet, the water is
turned off, a lather is made and then comes the second and final
rinse - viola! You are clean, or as clean as you can be in Haiti.
During our trip, our team worked
tirelessly. We worked shoulder to shoulder with our Haitian teammates
to build a school, the Harry Brakeman College, which educates
elementary and middle school aged children. The classrooms that we
worked on meant that more students could be educated and have a
brighter future. It was gratifying, uplifting work, but we were also
filthy by the end of the day.
The cement that we threw at the
ceiling by the trowel full would inevitably splatter onto our bodies.
The buckets of water that we used to mix the cement would splash onto
our legs. The limestone that we sifted would coat our clothes and
hair. We also sweat under the hot sun and the sunscreen we used would
eventually cake onto our arms, necks, and foreheads.
Our evening ritual consisted of
taking a cold, short, invigorating shower. After his shower, one of
our group members said, "Never has so little water done so much
good". This one remark stayed with me. Something so simple as
showering and leaving the water running throughout the duration of
the process is a luxury in countries like Haiti.
The
offhand comment also made me think of our group as the water. We, the
ten of us, went to Haiti with very little in terms of physical
supplies - we had boots, gloves, sunblock, bug spray, some clothing
to donate, and a bag of medications. But we also brought so many
intangibles - God's love, full hearts, a willingness to work.
With so little, we were able to
provide full-time employment for our Haitian colleagues at the work
site, medical care for close to 150 Haitians in Petit-Goâve who had
no or limited access, a physical space for children to learn, to
achieve their dreams of an education.
We also gave away our own clothes
and some donated clothes, our own work boots and gloves, we built
close relationships with the people we worked with and the families
that we met and stayed with. Never has so little water done so much
good.
To our congregation at the Grosse
Pointe United Methodist Church – a heartfelt thank you for your
unending generosity and support in this mission and others like it.
You are truly the Living Water.
Paul Thomas
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