1/30/12 – Wyatt Earp , Ft. Sedgewick and the S.S. Minnow

It has been some days now since we returned from Pignon to drop off Dr. Greg and Leslie. George, our town mayor has always been a little intimidating to me and I am secretly nervous about our 1 ½ hour truck ride back to Ranquitte. After the little plane flew away with our American counterparts we returned to the truck to be taken to the hospital in Pignon. George had agreed to take us there. We have always wanted to see this hospital. It would be beneficial to know if it is worth sending our patients from Ranquitte, after all the grueling trip broke a spring off the truck. I couldn’t imaging the 4 hour walk if I was sick enough to go to the hospital. While we explored the hospital George took the truck to get fixed, the hospital was interesting and we gathered the info we needed. As the sun set and we waited for our mayor to return for us I began to fear the evening. Night time in Haiti is fearfully beautiful. The bigger towns like Pignon can be scary, like American towns there isn’t the innate respect for the end of the day that small towns have, and the sounds that fill the air are less nature and more….. well, depravity. As the sun sank lower we continued to wait, the more horizontal rays of the sun reveal the impressive quantity of dust and dirt and smoke. As I am about to reach in my pocket to call our mayor friend I hear the squeaking of the truck and the urgent honking from him to call us to come. And like children looking for a temporarily misplaced parent, we run to him.

We make small talk about the hospital and the truck while we bounce around like bobble heads through the crowded streets in Pignon. George is a very tall, well, but awkwardly built man. He is so dark, that even in the remaining evening light I can’t make out the finer details of his countenance until he smiles! But.. it is a priceless smile, large, separated teeth that seem to stretch from ear to ear.  George has been mayor for a long time… 7 years I think, maybe more. Before that he worked with CFI in various capacities, but he has been involved with the blancs since the beginning. He moves in upper circles of Haitian government yet he feeds his own people by giving away bananas and other fruits/vegetables that he raises and farms himself. He has learned to not give his thoughts away by his body language… something Rachel and I have come to depend on greatly as we have tried to decipher a foreign language. This is why I never know what to think of him….so when the awkward moment of silence comes and all that is left is three bobbling heads I am feeling incredibly insecure.

So I do what any good novice missionary would do… I use my best creole to tell him how thankful we are to be with him and ask a series of rather meaningless questions. And to my utter relief… he answers them in his best English (lightyears ahead of my creole) and begins to tell us about His Haiti. I begin to realize that everything people I trust have told me about George is true… that he is a great man, generous, caring, devout, fair, honest, christlike, wise and brave. Ironically, this is what I feared. True Masculinity is almost as mythical as some great white buffalo or sasquwatch. His character is revealed in the stories he shares, experiences he has had….all of which he tells us not necessarily to know him better of prove anything to us about him. But for our peace of mind, to steady our hearts that we are safe, we are on the same team, Christ is our Lord…. And the people of Ranquitte are our shared mission.

At one point in the conversation Rachel asks the obvious direct question…” If there are 26,000 people in Ranquitte, are there any police or jails?”  The response further indicates why real masculinity… Holy Masculinity is mighty thing. George smiles his large smile, and talks about how Ranquitte is a quiet, peaceful town even though there are only 6 policemen. George describes a time when some ‘thugs” were stealing peoples chickens and goats. He found out about it, told people to put it out un the community that George was looking for them. Then he said they left. I thought…. Wow, that is either convenient or you must be feared. The next example answered the question. Another time before a man was going into peoples homes and stealing money and possessions. George discovered the mans identity, managed to covertly obtain a photo of him and give it to the towns nearby. He involved his 6 man police force to be on the lookout. However.. when word came that the man had been identified the police men were to afraid to go and get him. They said he had killed men before. So George asked a friend in the town where the man was identified to go there and call George when the man leaves town and is coming to Ranquitte. George had a man in the next town closest to Ranquitte call him when that bad man passed through. So… with 2 other friends, on a dark, stone riddled road on the side of the mountain, George took his gun fired at the man…. When the man fired back… George walked up in the dark amongst the thugs’ misplaced shooting and ended the fight. The man was not mortally wounded….. and when the town people heard the shots, they didn’t run and mob George…. They finished off the thug. And George and his buddies rode back to Ranquitte and in his word’s “No mo pwoblem”

As we pulled back into the safety of our compound for the night, I looked at the clinic’s silhouette as it passed to my right. I see the roof that is in need of repair, which leaks anytime it rains. It has the potential to function well, serve it’s community. But it seems so beaten up and worn down in the darkness. This is going to be my post for the next year, it is in dire need of proper supplies and medications, and the workers who remain seem to have lost their purpose. From previous experiences and the counsel of trusted haitien friends, I know that many years have gone by without the attention it deserves. It is full of random boxes with medicines that were one time acceptable to be given to the community, but in these same boxes are also trash, mold, used needles, roaches and rat feces. I have seen it try to weather the storms of a community of 26,000 people with no doctor and no means to afford a hospital, or even transportation along the same route we just traveled. In my life I have learned that just because something is begun in the name of Jesus that doesn’t necessarily mean Jesus is still there…. But sometimes, sometimes…. Jesus will still show up. And it is in this knowledge I resolve my hopelessness when I think about all that is broken here. It has 2 Haitian nurses, 2 pharmacy workers, a triage aide, and a lab tech. Over the years they have tried to be the hands and feet of Jesus…but given their situation I can’t really be upset with them when I know they are a very poor example of him. A good friend told me once a long time ago…”Exemplify what you want more of” And now more than ever, it will take everything I have to do this. How can I learn what has happened here so that I can undo it’s past. There has been thievery, there has been favoritism, there has been jealousy, there have been “demons” and there has been death. There has been abandonment, sickness, laziness, greed, hatred, fear, loneliness, confusion, frustration. I know that these are all symptoms of some inner brokenness, of a vision and purpose that once was good that now has been lost. But here we are, I know that Monday will be a test and I feel extremely overwhelmed. Rachel is very excited….she is task oriented and can compartmentalize our so called “goals” more easily than I can. I tend to be more relational and ambiguous in my worries. Funny thing is that while Rachel and I discuss some things we learned in the hospital I realize even she is overwhelmed by the weight of trying to intervene in a broken system that is this clinic. Oh yeah we don’t speak creole. I am thinking that neither of us are good at charades either so Jesus…. You have your work cut out for ya!