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A mission team from an outside perspective looks and seems as follows: Jesus freaks that are too scared to even say the word "heck," singing with their acoustic guitars all day long, and judging anyone that doesn't tie in the Holy Spirit to every conversation possible. Men and women fly to third world countries for a week, stay in five star hotels, build a house for a no-name family, and head on back to the comfort of first-world America. My mission team, luckily, is the most extreme opposite to the usual case. Our community of twelve has worked together for the last six years going on mission trips locally in Apopka, Florida, nationally in Lineville, Alabama and New Orleans, Louisiana, and even internationally to Haiti.
What sets us apart from other teams is our connection to the people and culture we have the opportunity to experience. So many individuals that go on mission trips never truly get to experience a "real" mission trip. A "real" mission trip would personally be defined as a mission not only to help spread the gospel or build churches, but to build real relationships with people living in the area; treating them like family. My mission team has felt this way since we decided to start working together, and it has helped us connect not only with the people we meet, but also with each other. The high school and college aged men and women are basically my family, holding me accountable for my actions and thoughts, and keeping me in check when I'm about to do something immoral or dishonorable to myself. My mission team knows me as my true identity, not only a sweet girl, but also somewhat of a wild card. I have laughed uncontrollably with them, and had deep conversations with all of them until the break of dawn, under the stars. After going to Haiti in 2016, we all fell in love with the culture and atmosphere, and made many close friends in the villages. After hurricane Matthew brutally hit the beloved country, there was no hesitation in deciding to return. Not only did we want to help repair the damage done, but we also wanted to make sure our friends were still safe.
The organization I work through when in Haiti is called Mission of Hope. Mission of Hope is so beneficial to the people of Haiti, as they know that white savior complex is a real and frustratingly common situation. Americans go to third world countries with the idea that every person in the country is helpless and cannot do anything for themselves. This is obviously not the case, as seen in personal experiences. The people of Haiti specifically are the most wholesome and genuine people my team and I have had the gracious opportunity of meeting. Mission of Hope also firmly believes in empowering future generations in Haiti. There is absolutely no donations given to any Haitian directly from a team member. Instead, exchanges are from Haitian-to-Haitian. For example, I would never hand a woman in the village Aquatabs in order to clean her water. Instead, I inform our translator or Village Champion (a long time resident of the village that works for Mission of Hope), and he follows through with helping the woman clean her water. This practice is done so people in poverty do not rely on the "ever so amazing white people" to provide for their every need. Instead, people are helping each other learn together, for long term improvement.
Although our eccentric group of twelve has numerous laughable moments together, we have also experienced very dark situations together. This year while in Haiti, one hot Friday morning brought us closer together than ever before. We took a canter out from Titanyen, the village we lived in, to Mesaye-a place near and dear to all of our hearts. My mission team has sponsored Mesaye specifically since 2012, and many people in the village remember us from year to year. The children are wild, yet so incredibly loving. Our task for the day was to conduct Strategic Village Time. This involves meeting villagers to ask them questions about their health, education, safety, and relationship with Christ, as well as build a relationship with the men and women living here. It was same old same old, a routine done in Haiti almost every day by Mission of Hope. It was a hot morning, and the week was starting to wear us out. The lack of wind was taking a toll on my body. We trekked up a mountain to the very last house on the very top, where we met Kalene. Kalene welcomed us into her beautiful one room home while her four children played outside. She was a thin, tall woman, with prominent cheekbones and callused hands. The scheduled dialogue started up as usual. How long have you lived in Mesaye? What are your children's names? Are you married?
"No, I'm no longer married."
In Haiti, this is fairly unusual. She explained that her husband was a voodou priest, involved in gangs and killings constantly. Kalene was tired of keeping her children in danger at her old home in Bercy, so she left for Mesaye. However, her husband found her new hideaway, and was extremely angry. He started putting a poison powder common in voodou along her doorstep in order to make the family sick. It worked. Kalene fell extremely ill, but did not give up. She explained to us that at that time, she devoted her life to being a Christian, praying every day and reading her Bible. Because of this, she believes she was healed.
"Amazing! Mesi Jezi!" We realized we had just met a truly remarkable woman. Her faith in Christianity and humble attitude to care for her children no matter the situation was reassuring. But she was not anywhere near finished. For we did not know what was going to happen next, but it was a fact that our team had been put on that mountain that morning for a reason. I asked Kalene if her children went to school.
"No, we cannot afford to go to school." Typical answer in the mountains of Mesaye.
She walked over to the wall and plucked a photo off the wall. It was a school photo. It was her daughter, she said, but we didn't see her outside playing. Kalene begins her story. In 2015, she and her daughter were in the market. All of a sudden, her daughter was nowhere to be found. Market day in Haiti is a huge commotion regularly, but this time Kalene heard even more chaos than usual. A murder had taken place behind the market. Curious about the action, the mother investigated. She never would have thought to see her own daughter slaughtered and laying helpless among the trees.
We all wept. Our team, our interns, our translators, Kalene, everyone. We held on to her for what seemed like hours as our translator prayed and sang. He sang an old and familiar song not only in Haiti, but in the states as well. "There is power in the name of Jesus, to break every chain" were the lyrics we sang over and over. The wind rushed through the one room home as we sat together. Wind chimes clinked together outside. It was truly fate that brought our team to see Kalene. We came with the notion of healing her, but she healed us. Her story broke down so many emotional barriers our team was holding up, and after we finally left her house, we all connected like we never had before.
My mission team has been with each other for years now, and I wouldn't trade any person for anything in the world. Our community is the most wholesome and genuine one I have ever had the pleasure of being a part of, and I will be a part of it for as long as I am alive.
