A response, for those who ask me about Haiti
Haiti has not been absent from the minds and eyes of Americans as of late. From Instability in the fall of 2020, to the recently massive earthquake in the south that killed over 275 school bus’s worth of people to the unjust assassination of their president. From the expanse of gangs taking over the crowded streets of Port-au-Prince, overwhelming the massive capital city and the country’s rural residents with fear.
Last week, our phones blew up with messages from friends, family, and acquaintances. Good heartedly trying to make sure we’re safe, but filling our screens with article links to the perceived horrors of Haiti. 17 Americans (1 Canadian, still North America) were kidnapped while on a mission trip, absolutely horrendous. This, however, is nothing new to Haiti’s narrative. Since the fall of 2020 kidnappings have consumed the feed and posts of Haitians in Haiti, but the victims were not foreigners to the small island nation, they were local. Locals overwhelmed with fear by the gangs taking over their feelings of safety inside their own homes. This didn’t hit the news, at least not in my home country. The victims, all Haitians, but specifically friends, family, and coworkers of American based organizations like orphanages, churches, and community development groups. It came to light, from interviews of actual gang members, that some political opposition of the current president had been paying gangs to kidnap Haitians associated with foreign based organizations. This business stopped with news of the leaders assassination, the “assumption” being goal accomplished.
Our full-time life in Hispaniola was truly distant from a “locals experience.” We could never fathom a childhood going weeks without food, no utilities or government services (including roads, water, sewage, electricity, trash) or the freedom that a US passport and American credit card can offer with the ability to escape at any moment. But, we lived far from sheltered to the hard ground survived by our Haitian friends who were even still sheltering us along our journey. We were in downtown Port-au-Prince when one of the countries ex-dictators attempted an overthrow, causing division and riots in the streets. We were there as the UN caused cholera epidemic ravaged a post 2010 earthquake fragile nation. We’ve been there in the height of riots and instability, when cell service shuts down, when the airports shutdown, when the resilient Haitian family knows to go underground when the countries fight for justice and freedom hits the streets.
Stephanie and I (Ryan) lived the majority of our now 10 years working in Haiti in the beautiful rural coastal town Montrouis, just an hour outside Port-au-Prince’s, overwhelming presence. Post our full-time life in country, we transitioned roles from working on the ground with our friends, and just attempting to understand the daily realities of life in Haiti, to working so our friends can keep working.
Our goal, though never fully understood by us until recent years, was always to promote local leadership of all operations. We had somehow been sheltered from the way “mission(s)” were done, we had yet to be told to be in full control at all times. So, we used a different model. Without “wisdom” from a background of American based missions, we took the easiest approach- locals leading the work in their own neighborhoods. It just made sense at the time. We weren’t brilliant enough to see the potential pitfalls of running day-to-day operations ourselves as the country is destabilized from the outside in. We wanted locals to run operations because our first friends in Haiti WERE ALREADY DOING THE WORK. It was natural, to partner with the very people most passionate to their cause, the ones most affected by it! Of course, the local population to a community in need would be the most apt to their communities, the families and friends and neighbors, having the chance to live their best possible life.
Our journey (Ryan and Steph again) quickly changed from our first model: a team of roughly 8 foreigners to Haiti, partnering with Dominican’s and Haitian’s who were already serving as missionaries in cities, and countries, distant from their own comfort zone. Our small team of foreigners and an equally small handful of locals quickly changed as life so often dictates. A natural end came to our foreign friends (and ourselves) being the full-time hands on workers on the ground, doing water projects, teachings, ministry, and just living life with our Haitian friends. The beautiful yet painful transition for Steph and I stepping out of our always transitional role in Haiti was not without its fruit. Where 8 American’s, Canadians, and Brazilians stepped out of Haiti, 40 Haitian’s rose to their natural place of leadership (Now 50+, not including local volunteers).
This is when Konbit Haiti was truly born, under the leadership of it’s capable Haitian staff, daily living up to the strict cultural code that name requires. Probably one of the most difficult things we see to, is not the harsh day to day realities of working in Haiti, but living up to the very word “Konbit.” A deeply cultural and historical word, encapsulated by the countless times the villages and neighborhoods of Haiti would make a Konbit, a partnership for multiple communities accomplishing a singularly impossible goal. A literal mountainside would need to be moved by pickaxe and shovel for a road, lake, or canal; a multiple mile long road would need to be carved out of the solid rock hillside; a garden providing food sources for one single village. All projects benefiting a single village, but built by multiple surrounding villages for free. The expectation: a returned gratuity. The return, communities living in shalom with each other. The name, Konbit.
Living up to this cultural practice is counter-cultural to the system of missions. The hero of the narrative is the community itself and the leaders that inspire their neighbors to selfless action. So, as an organization calling ourselves “Konbit,” our greatest challenge is living up to the strict code that word elicits. Our chiefest critics are Haitian’s who long for justice to be done on earth as it is in heaven in a way that places the burden, responsibility, and workload on those who have the most to gain from and most to lose when development is done wrong. Once called the black hole of NGO’s, where corrupt American and foreign organizations could operate without the shadow of oversight, where UN soldiers could create a literal culture of trafficking women and stealing livestock, where the Clintons own an unfathomably large plot of prime beach real estate but President Bush purportedly cowered in fear. Our biggest stakeholder is staying accountable to the Haitian who longs to see their vision accomplished, not another countries system of mission trips or politicians dreams for orphanages or cheap goods, respectively.
From a development perspective, this is the most natural and effective course. Community development is done when a leader indigenous to a region works with their own friends, families, and neighbors, to see their community grow as they desire. So, our organization, Konbit Haiti, can only really “do Konbit” if led by locals. The community can only be empowered by a leader from their neighborhood. Vision can only be cast by one who knows how hard the ground is, and who is willing to dig relentlessly until a bright future emerges from the ground.
Steph and I find ourselves in this cyclical dichotomy. Listening to the hopes, dreams, fears, and hardships of our friends leading Konbit Haiti by their daily life, being “failed” missionaries in the process. We attempt not to subscribe to the easy successes and low hanging fruit that humanities easiest insecurities desire- taking control, taking credit, etc.. Our role, to keep Konbit Haiti alive and thriving, as the real community developers do their work transforming their neighborhoods to the likeness of Christ on earth. No matter the instability, oppression, or occupation, they Konbit [verb] relentlessly. When earthquakes shake the only thing in this world that should never change, they step in and find the most affected, not on maps or American’s scope. When the trauma of their own presidents assassination rocks their nation, they mourn together and keep working for a beautiful future. When Haitian staff of American partnered organizations are targeted, we (Ryan and Steph and friends) do the hard/easy thing of not visiting and let these freedom fighters fly under the radar. When a team of Americans are kidnapped during a highly suspect time to travel to this destabilized nation, much less a mission(s) trip and not long-term workers, they mourn for those who have sacrificed their time and pray for their freedom and safety, their own countries peace, and the salvation and livelihood and justice of the kidnappers.
This most recent crisis, brings us (foreigners to Haiti) to a crossroads. In a country overwhelmed by hardships, destabilized (historically, systematically, continuously, and currently) by my own United States of America, and suppressed by the world, should we be visiting and “missioning” as normal? Of course, the US Embassy has Haiti rated at a “Level 4 Travel Ban,” in name only, and not because of COVID (oh yeah, that too). In a country whose medical system could so easily be overwhelmed by the foreigners in-country COVID case load, not to mention the masses of locals that would also be affected. Is this an irresponsible burden placed on the Haitian state and her people? Is this model of missions in its proper context? Is our American need to “feel content for our homes and life” and our spiritual contentedness a burden that should be housed by the Haitian living in daily political instability?
There are so many “sacrifices” (sacrifices to our privilege) we have encountered living in Haiti. Our twenties were simply incomparable when we reflect on our adventures and character development, but we also lacked many of the opportunities common to our age. We missed out on the wealth building, financial planning, home buying, retirement saving opportunities of our twenties. Our experiences, invaluable. Our missed opportunities, few but notable. Our current sacrifice, choosing to not visit Haiti during COVID, instability, and kidnappings! Perhaps this thought shouldn’t be as novel as it is. Or, perhaps this current issue is simply an outlier of tragic proportions (and prayerfully quick and peaceful resolve).
At this point in a conversation, if this monologue could somehow be considered conversation, many would interject with the notion of faith. Faith, oh I believe in and rely on faith. Remember the part where I mentioned we had been in the middle of many a uncomfortable situation? I must ask, what is faith, and where exactly is its relevance to this conversation and to Haiti?
Is “faith” a blanket of protection, a traveling mercy as I’ve heard it called? Jesus avoided the crowds trying to kill him, he didn’t give into the temptation to be carried off by angels from falling. David avoided Saul (but kept working for a prosperous and united Israel, kept fighting for freedom from oppressors when he couldn’t be in his desired role). Sure, there are many stories of those running into danger in the scriptures, but the cost is assumedly their life, and wisdom was not skirted in the process. Point being, faith does not always requisite action into the most dangerous circumstance, God gives wisdom afterall, right?
Where is the line between fear and faith and wisdom? I don’t suppose one could ever define that answer. But, for me, in a season of kidnappings in Haiti. Steph and I are headed to the Dominican Republic to meet some of our leaders in dire need of both downtime and friend time. We have chosen to lean into our work, being there for friends and staff in a way that doesn’t place the burden on our staff during a season of kidnappings. All requires faith, even deciding when to not go to Haiti to see our friends and work when we want to, this requires faith that our work continues without me (even though my brain tells me “I’m so important, how can anyone possibly do anything without me!”
We are fortunate enough to have found our role in this mission early on, to be a bridge to Haiti, a middleman of context and understanding to White America, when he is unable to or unwilling to listen to the incredible Haitian voices before us (I used the male pronoun for the US in our inability to listen).
The American mission spends the majority of their fight domestically against homelessness on feeding programs, when people want help gaining skills and recovering documents to get jobs. We have a habit of spending our money in the absolute least effective way, pure irony to a culture of men who often care most about efficiency and logistics. When it comes to international development, we Americans place ourselves as hero and others as, well, the other. We create orphans by creating orphanages instead of following the existing Haitian foster care system imbedded in the cultures heart of providing for each other. We spend our money putting children in group homes when a lot less work (and substantially less money) can keep them in their parents homes where they are already wanted and loved. We reject Haitian migrants who have journeyed hundreds to thousands of miles by foot from entering our country when our country has and continues to destabilize their country. Basically, we push them down into the mulch and look over them with disdain for laying down on the dirty playground soil.
As we move forward, we all will continue our life. We all want to see the best in our lives, and for our children, we want a bright future and college and good food and travel opportunities and careers for those we love, those we birth. Haiti wants the same. Why would she not?
In the end, It’s not us who can give Haiti opportunity, but it is us who can take it away.
A few good articles on our part in Haiti’s history:
https://www.latimes.com/opinion/story/2021-10-10/the-west-owes-a-centuries-old-debt-to-haiti
https://www.npr.org/sections/money/2021/10/05/1042518732/-the-greatest-heist-in-history-how-haiti-was-forced-to-pay-reparations-for-freed
https://news.harvard.edu/gazette/story/2021/09/paul-farmer-on-the-resilience-of-haiti/