The Kite

A we drove through Port-Au-Prince on our first day, we were stunned by what we saw. We came face to face with poverty as we had never seen it before. There were too many images, too many to recount, but perhaps the most heartbreaking was a skinny, barefooted boy who ran through traffic to our bus begging for money.

Almost everywhere we saw mounds of rubble, grim reminders of the earthquake that struck here three years ago. In many stretches of the road, we saw shantytowns with rows and rows and rows of tarps covering whatever the inhabitants could find to hold them overhead. Yet many times, above the ruins and the desperation, we could spy a tiny, tattered kite flying defiantly and proudly displaying the hope we thought we were bringing to Haiti. We quickly realized hope is already here.

As we've come to know the Haitian people, we have found they are very loving and very kind. They have faced more hardship than any of us could fathom, but their faith is strong and they have picked up the pieces and trudged onward. They are happy and friendly, generously offering waves and greetings in Creole. Their children build toys out of trash, and they make kites out of rags, running through the shantytown rows gleefully sending those symbols of hope aloft in the tropical breeze. They remind us that Haiti is worth saving.