I’m writing from within the gates of the Palm Inn Hotel
in Port-au-Prince. It’s lovely in here,
with small, tended gardens complete with sculptures; an attentive inn-keeper;
and a buffet awaiting us. Just outside
the gates, of course, it’s a different story.
Driving back into Port-au-Prince this afternoon (blessedly on a Sunday,
with light traffic compared with Thursday’s insanity), we all noticed the
trash. There is some minimal attempt to
deal with the trash that fills the gutters.
Earth-moving equipment was scooping up trash as we passed by, presumably
to take it to some collecting point. But
there are countless plastic bottles and wrappers that the equipment
misses. Someone needs to make a lot of
money figuring out how to collect the recyclable plastic and sell it to some
processor. It would be perhaps the
greatest gift anyone could give Haiti – right up there with a system of clean
drinking water, which would eliminate probably half the plastic bottles.
More positively, the day began with worship – wonderful
worship. We started at Pere Colbert’s
church in Cayes, St. Sauveur, where they were celebrating the second
anniversary of the parish children’s association as well as several children’s
first Communions. The kids sang like
there was no tomorrow – and so did the adults, for that matter. Singing in Haitian worship is one of the most
heavenly things you’ll ever hear – not because of the musical quality but
because of the full-throated praise.
When these people thank God for their blessings, they are thankful in a
way I wonder whether I ever approach.
And the offertory procession – complete with tomatoes, okra, mangoes,
sugar cane, pineapples, and bananas (no goats or chickens this time) – it
literally danced “thank you” to God’s altar.
Dancing “thank-you” – that’s not a bad way to look at how
my perceptions and attitudes might change following this trip. That was the question for our group in our
discussion last night. (We’ve had a reflection
time each evening, followed by praying Compline. It’s become christened “Culligan Ice With
Spice.” Some experiences don’t translate
so well….) We talked about how we might come home differently than how we
left. I always come away from Haiti with
deep respect for the people’s orientation of gratitude, and this trip was no
exception. When people in Haiti are
grateful, it’s not lip service. When
they praise God, they do so as if their lives depended on it … because they do. Of course, so does mine. But in a world of convenience and privilege,
gratitude easily becomes expectation, and expectation can easily slip into
entitlement.
The image of the offertory at St. Sauveur became complete
for me in a little girl who wasn’t supposed to be part of the official
procession. She was moving about through
the service, clearly at home there. When
the dancers brought forward the produce of the land, she came into the group,
too, bearing what she had been carrying around throughout the service: a can of
Pringles. As it happens, I love
Pringles. So she is my patron saint
today, bringing forward what she had been given and joining the company of
saints in praising God, because their lives depend on it.
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