From the age of 6, I was obsessed with Haiti. Or more accurately, my sister’s obsession with Haiti rubbed off on me. Our parish, St. John’s the Evangelist in Hydes, Maryland, had a sister parish in Haiti. We would have biweekly collections to donate to the other parish. But one weekend, the pastor of the other parish visited our parish. He gave a speech after communion, which was accompanied by a slideshow that showcased the struggles of living in Haiti. Seeing the children look so happy to be in school, seeing them excited about the one bowl of rice they get a day, seeing their appreciation for the little they have moved me so much that I knew I needed to serve Haiti during my lifetime.
The next time the pastor visited, my grandmother held a dinner for the pastor and all the donors from my parish. I was about 8 or 9, and I dressed up in a little suit. I circulated around the room with hors d’oeuvres, talking to the pastor and donors who had visited Haiti. I also served dinner to the pastor, at which point I got into a conversation with him about service opportunities in Haiti. This experience cemented the fact in my brain that I needed to travel to Haiti.
For the next eight years of my life, I kept an eye out for service opportunities. Anytime my parish held an event for Haiti, I made sure to volunteer. Every time we sent a group to Haiti to volunteer, I tried to go. Sadly, I was always too young. During my junior year of high school, I finally got the opportunity of which I had always dreamed. The former pastor of my parish reached out to my mother with information about the trip to Haiti with the High Hopes for Haiti team. I spent a lot of time on my application, and I was incredibly nervous for my interview. Luckily, I was chosen as one of the participants.
The week leading up to the trip, I could barely sleep. I was running around like a mad man, trying to cover all my bases. I had no idea what I would need. I had no idea what I should bring to give to the children. In short, I was a mess. Finally, the day of our flight came. It felt like Christmas morning and my birthday all wrapped up in one. I tried to sleep on the flight, but that just wasn’t an option.
When we were walking through the airport, I was shocked. I’ve been to hectic airports before: Amsterdam, Beijing, and Milan. But none of them compared to the airport in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. The crowds were like what you would see in Times Square. The air was hot and heavy, weighing you down. People were shouting, cars honking, and even some animals were making noise. I wasn’t able to hear myself think until we got into the van to travel to Saint Marc.
My experiences in Haiti were unlike any other. Every day, we woke up and spent time playing games with the children. Then we would pray and start activities for the day. The children would have arts and crafts, English lessons, and then outdoor games. Us volunteers would rotate which event we were running for the day. Every minute spent with these children felt like a blessing. But a few moments have engrained themselves in my brain.
My favorite camper, Danielle Marie, had a pastry one day. She gave me the wrapper to throw away, and I faked a sad face, rubbing my belly as if I were sad she didn’t save me any. The next morning, I was taking a little longer than every else to go downstairs and play with the kids. One of our volunteers came up and told me that Danielle Marie was asking for me. So, I went downstairs, and she had another pastry. She was trying to give it to me. I have no idea how she even afforded the first pastry, let alone the second. The fact that she got it for me because I made a joke brought tears to my eyes.
Another day during camp, I saw a group of eight children standing in a circle. They had two bottled beverages. One was frozen, and one was warm. They would add some of the warm drink to the frozen one, shaking it around and making it a slushie. Then they would pass it in a circle, each taking a small sip. They did this for almost an hour until the entire drink was finished. Watching them share it made me want to go out to the street and buy them each a drink. It was also so heartwarming to see how much they shared.
Even after everything that happened with the riots, I still wanted to do more for Haiti. My high school, The John Carroll School, has a capstone project called a senior project. We were allowed to choose any topic to do our project about. I chose Haiti and did a multi-part project.
The first part of my project involved giving speeches. I spoke at my parish's religious education classes all about my trip. I spoke during a donor dinner held at John Carroll, explaining why helping Haiti was so important. Finally, I spoke at Fine Arts Night.
I also held a school supply drive. I had boxes in every religion classroom at John Carroll. I had boxes at my job, Palmisano’s of Baldwin, and I had boxes at a few parishes around my house. I managed to collect four suitcases worth of school supplies to send to Haiti.
The shining gem of my senior project was the paint night I held. I invited students from all the local middle schools. Around 40 people ended up attending. We painted small clipboards. One side was with chalkboard paint, and one side was with beautiful designs. We ended up painting about 150 clipboards. These were sent to Haiti with the school supplies. The idea behind the clipboards was so that each student had a personal chalkboard. Children in Haiti struggle to learn to write, because it is hard to find paper and pencils with which to practice. The chalkboards give them the ability to practice writing whenever they want, without the struggle for supplies.
I learned many valuable lessons during my time in Haiti and my time serving Haiti during my senior year. I managed to come up with a singular sentence, a mantra of sorts, that I now live by, so I can keep Haiti in my heart at all times. The mantra is, “No matter what you have or what you lack, share everything you have, because the least we can do is give a little bit of everything we have, in hopes of making everyone’s life just a little better.”
In the spirit of following that mantra and the goal of the 11 Days in Haiti fundraiser, we are asking anyone with the means to donate to the cause. Times are tough enough with COVID-19 in America, and I can’t even begin to fathom how difficult it is in Haiti, right now. Thank you for reading this, and I hope you have a wonderful, blessed day.
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