A Trip to Haiti - Good, Bad, Ugly

I sat with Mark Chipperfield to hear his story about his trip to Haiti last week. Below I will share some of what he told me. This is a long post, some of it is not pretty, but it is all real. -- Faye Bryant

Mark and Brian Williams flew to Orlando, then drove to Ft. Lauderdale to catch a private jet that was carrying supplies to Santo Domingo in the Dominican Republic. They each found a seat in this plane completely surrounded by supplies. The pilot told them they were carrying the maximum weight the plane could carry. Then, when they took off, they noticed the plane wasn't ascending into the sky. Shortly, they realized they were banking away from their destination and soon landed again. Seems someone had forgotten to unlock the landing gear so that the pilot could pull it up to achieve altitude. Mark said, "At that point, at least we knew they could land the thing."

First stop, Turks and Caicos Islands for refueling. (Mark didn't say so, but I imagine there was some unfolding of a couple of tall guys for a few minutes.) There they encountered personnel at the airport who begged them to take some of the mass of supplies they have waiting to go to Haiti. Since they were already overloaded, they couldn't do anything to help.

After landing in Barahona and making their way to Jimani, near the Haitian border, Mark and Brian saw chaos. Organized to some degree, but chaos nonetheless. They saw the two-story hospital building, the orphanage building, the chapel, a large revival-type tent over-filled with people and much more.

They met up with some folks from North Carolina. Finally! Someone who spoke their language! This group had already been there several days and planned to stay a few more. They showed Brian and Mark around, explaining the layout of the hospital and what was going on. They shared about the 6.0 aftershock they'd experienced the morning before, seeing people jumping out of the second floor of the hospital and orphanage, others running outside screaming, because of their fear.

The guys from North Carolina shared about their sleeping accommodations -- a tent set up next to the post-op tent (large open-sided, revival-type tent) where they'd tried to go to sleep the night before, but were kept awake by the generator running. When the generator was finally shut down, they spent the rest of the night praying it would be turned back on, the screams of people suffering now filling the air. Only local anesthesia for those enduring amputations or other medical procedures.

Next they headed toward Port au Prince. The roads are not fun, I was told. Mark said he saw little of earthquake damage until they got very close to the city. They went to the house that has been leased by Church of the Cove and Chadasha Foundation for our missionary outpost. One of the walled fences had been damaged and there are cracks in the walls of the house, but it's foundation is sound. Not every house in that neighborhood fared the same. Just a couple doors down lay a pile of rubble that was once a house, and the odor that came from it told the tale of those who had been inside at the time of the collapse.

During their stay, Mark and Brian helped repair the wall at the house, helped install water filtration systems at the house and at Pastor Jude's church. They were going to install one at Bobby's orphanage, but found out that the well that was dug by hand in the past year was damaged in the quake and is now filled with brackish water. A new well will have to be dug there.

They also traveled around the city, delivering food and other supplies to places where they were needed.

As they traveled back through Jimani to Barahona to head home, they were surprised to find the guys from North Carolina still on duty, still serving. A moment of time is frozen in both Brian and Mark's minds: A moment when tears and wails continued in the post-op tent until Pastor Tim (from NC) went in with an interpreter and began singing worship songs and hymns. It was an amazing sight to see people in so much pain, with so much damage in their lives, lifting their hands and voices to God in worship.

A fitting end to a rough trip.