Crochu

Last night I returned to civilization. And by civilization I mean access to internet, but most importantly, a shower (still not hot), running water, and flushing toilets. Croix-Des-Bouquets (aka Kwade Bouke) is a nice, wealthy town when you’ve been in the bush for five days.

I was lucky enough to travel to a small village tucked away in the Haitian mountains known as Crochu. Although there is very little which makes it appear as a town (or even a hamlet), it has an astonishing 8,000 residents. Many of these people live at least 2 hours walk from the “center of town” yet still consider themselves residents.

Crochu is the most extreme poverty I have ever seen. These people have attempted to maintain a lifestyle on the side of steep mountainsides which have been so eroded, deforested, and drained of life that they are truly nothing but rocks. And yet, they manage to eek out an existence, subsisting on millet, corn, and the few avocado and mango trees which haven’t been cut down.

“The market” is quite a site to see, with only about 10 shacks (which also serve as sleeping quarters at night) which sell old bottles of rum, 7up, and candy, as well as whatever excess crop might be available. And a cock fighting house. In the five days I spent there, I think that my group’s purchase of two pints of rum might have been the biggest of the entire week ($10 American total).

The past five days were perhaps some of the best I have ever had. Beginning Saturday morning, I fell in with a group of five gentlemen from Edenton, North Carolina in the eastern part of the state on the Aberlmarle Sound. They were from St. Paul's Episcopal Church.

There were the Austin brothers (Tom and Jerry…yes, like the cartoon), who were both extreme libertarians in their 60’s. I thoroughly enjoyed getting to know them and their political views. I was far too liberal and naïve for their taste. This inspired healthy debates over a bottle of rum two nights.

There was Will, the youngest in the group at probably 40, who works with GIS for the local energy company.

There was Scottie, a man in his 50’s who runs the local marina.

And there was Hood Ellis, one of the main lawyers in town who was quite the good-ole-boy and yet he reminded me a great deal of my own father.

Their work was to roof a school at St. Alban’s Episcopal Church in Crochu, which is the sister church of their church. Over three full days of work, with the help of many Haitians, we completely roofed a new 7-room school building.

These men are on their way to the airport this morning to head back home. And yet, having known them for only 5 days, I felt like we were able to share a deep bond. I can now proudly say I have friends (even if they are over twice my age) in Edenton, NC. We were truly brothers in Christ, joining hands in work and prayer for a common good. We shared stories from college, from hunting trips and from families. We shared ideas for how to help Haiti. And we shared in witness to the extreme conditions these people are forced to live.

And like the dogs I mentioned in an earlier post, it has come to my realization ever-more every day that all humans are still very much the same. We might have different political views. We might live in large houses overlooking the ocean or tiny “ti-kays” made of mud and tin. We might be lawyers, carpenters, telecommunication consultants, or naïve students. But we all still need clean water. We all still need shelter. We all still need love. We all still need joy and laughter. We all play cards and dominos. All kids will fight over new toys and beg for candy. And all men can share a laugh when the old white guy misses a nail (klou) with his hammer (motto) three straight times. We are all brothers from different mothers, and yet all still from the same Father.

The View of "Downtown" Crochu from the roof of St. Alban's Church.

On a side note:

The Daily Lesson for Ash Wednesday was Matthew 6: 1-6. Something in this spoke to me a great deal regarding my time in Haiti.

“So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets so that they may be praised by others.”

I feel that, even though I do not have Facebook, the continuation of this blog might be perhaps “trumpeting” my alms. I will continue to journal for myself but I do not want what I am seeing and experiencing in Haiti to be any sort of cross I hold above others. I decided to venture down here to learn more about myself and learn about the world around me. I think it is perhaps best if I continue to do so without sounding my adventures to the outside world.

Brett Dennen's: "All We Have"