Don't Forget Us...
Pilgrim
This past February I was fortunate enough to share a trip to Haiti with several
members of our parish. Since this was the second trip I had taken to Haiti,
I felt prepared for what I might experience. What I found, however, is that
God has a way of opening our eyes to things He wants you to see.
As a “veteran” pilgrim I felt I had a good sense of the poverty
of Haiti. Then we pulled into Cite Soleil, a slum of the capital Port au
Prince. The houses were small shacks with tin roofs lining narrow streets
of open sewers. The faces that looked back at us were faces of hunger and
despair. Thousands of people live in this slum built on a flood plain. As
we drove through the streets witnessing these horrific conditions, none
of us could speak. My previous trip could not prepare me for this.
We arrived at our destination, a school run by Food for the Poor (FFP). Behind
its high fences were three buildings where some of the luckiest children
in Cite Soleil attend school. When we pulled in to the property, the gates
closed behind us. We were in a safe haven to visit the children attending
class.
We pilgrims crowded into three classrooms. I saw some of the most beautiful
children I have ever seen. I was overcome with emotion as I headed to another
classroom at the other end of the building. I poked my head in the door
and a young girl, 2 or 3 years old, ran to me from her chair. She grabbed
my leg and hugged it tightly. I knelt down and she looked at me with bright
eyes, then hugged me tight around the neck. I thought of my own children,
Emma and Ben, and how blessed we are. Tears were in my eyes when I said, “Thanks,
I really needed that!”
Back outside, walking to the next building, I was drawn to look at the gates
where we entered. There were twenty or so children and adults clambering
on the fence, peering in to see what was going on. They were behind the
barrier that meant the difference between despair and a fighting chance.
My eyes settled on a little boy, wearing no clothes, his belly round and
bloated, his hair orange, a sure sign of starvation. He is forever emblazoned
on my mind. I will never forget that scene or their desperate faces.
We entered another building where a woman was teaching young mothers about
nutrition….quite a concept since some mothers must feed their children
dirt to keep their tiny bellies full. As the woman spoke, Philippe, our
host from FFP translated: “She’s hungry… she’s hungry….she’s
hungry” pointing to each woman in the class. “we are all hungry.
Please, when you return to your homes, don’t forget us.”
I don’t know how anybody could. Believe me, I won’t.