Piti Fi Blog (Brynna's)

As I descend through the crumbling, half broken steps covered with gravel of all sizes, mud and muck, my heart shatters for this country and her beautiful children. I have never gone without food or worn dirty, torn, clothes so this was all very different than life as I know it in America. Surprising to me, this was a normal everyday thing for them. Their poverty was encompassed by all of the senses. 

The smell was very unsanitary as it consisted of a mixture of dust, dirt, and all different kinds of bodily fluids. Before we could even see the animals, the smell of cows, pigs, goats, and horses hit us like a brick wall. I started to get use to the smell after a few hours, or at least I forgot about it. Our need for pleasant smells became less important compared to their great needs. The horrid smell was quickly replaced as we passed the kitchen and inhaled rice and beans. The smell immediately made us all hungry. The women worked all morning for us to have a nice hot meal for lunch.

Children’s faces lit up as they saw us. With the biggest smile on their faces they ran towards us. They squeezed our hips and tugged at us to come play. We held their dirt filled little hands and danced in circles while singing children’s rhymes. The beauty of the island is breath-taking, we stood in awe of the view. We saw mountains, valleys, the ocean, and the airport runway. As I was looking down the mountain, the poverty caught my eyes. Houses were made out of sticks and clay. Roads were a mixture of dirt and animal feces. Clothes were hung on thin yarn. As we drove down the road, there were always multiple people doing their business right next to the road. 

They speak in Haitian Creole, so all my ears hear is random words and phrases from their mouths. Not many know English, so I felt very claustrophobic because of the language barrier between us. Laughter filled the air as the children played with sticks in the dirt near the edge of the streets. The cars sped by at dangerous speeds, honking and swerving. I hear babies crying for affection and attention. The dogs whimper with fear of abuse. Beautiful voices echoed in the distance from the church up on the mountain. We could hear them scrubbing their soap filled knuckles against the material of their clothes. 

Haiti is a very poor but happy place to be. The children wear ripped up clothes and play with rocks and sticks but they are the happiest children in the world. They have never been to America or have never seen the amount of items we have. They live a simple life. Technology and cable doesn't control them like it does many Americans. They live life for today not worrying about what the future will hold. You can experience all of the senses through their poverty. I saw the hope in their eyes, smelled the dirt on their skin, and heard the happiness in their voices.