Today we saw things the most descriptive writing couldn’t begin to explain. My own eyes had a hard time convincing my head it was real. So how can words convince you.
And how do you describe the constant stench of trash burning in the streets?
Today we saw a woman dying on the side of the road — naked and covered in dust, her dark skin almost covered in a chalky white. She was mentally ill, the locals told us. There’s no one here to care for a needy child, much less a woman with psychosis. So there she sat on the side of the mountain. Left to die. There’s no one to call for help; the need is too great here. And regardless, there really is no one to call.
We gave her water, food and clothes and were forced to drive away with only the haunting memories of her and the work that awaits us in the coming days.
A 50-minute ride later — where potholes were more plentiful than good stretches of gravel — we were transformed from hell on earth to a vacated tropical paradise.
Named the Obama Beach Hotel, we saw a part of Haiti that few do anymore — the crystal clear Caribbean waters just beyond the exotic trees. The now-vacated resort, complete with barbwire around the perimeter, was a far cry from the destruction we had just seen — and will continue to see in the coming days as we work to build houses.
We are now back at our compound in downtown Port Au Prince.
Tomorrow, the real work begins to help rebuild a village … and share the love of God.
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