Jimani

I don't even know how to describe our week in Jimani, DR.  We left on Sunday, so that we could drop off a little boy, Babbas, and his mom at their home.  The boy had been in Port-au-Prince to have surgery on a hernia that weekend, so we dropped them off at the Dominican border to catch a very precarious-looking rowboat to Bate 41, their village across the lake.  We then proceeded to sneak across the Dominican border illegally and got to Jimani with no problems. 

The Chadasha Foundation is based in Jimani, so we were able to see the main campus with the hospital, living quarters for teams, the chapel and boarding school.  There was a team there this week from Largo, Florida that we got to work alongside—they were a blast!  Every night they were planning to help with VBS at a local Mennonite church… leading to us interns basically being asked to not return the following nights because no one told us we should bring clothes that were more modest than athletic shorts and tank tops.  Oops.  Instead, we started to stay behind in the evenings to organize the pharmacy in the hospital.

This was one of the saddest jobs we had—throwing away expired medicine.  The hospital is functional, but is not operating right now because Chadasha is trying to get it up to its full potential.  They recently got a very large grant to help buy equipment and set things up, but one of the things that has to be in line is the pharmacy.  Brittany had a more difficult time with this part than the rest of us because she is a pre-med student and knows exactly what all of the medicine could do for however many people and how much all of it would cost to re-stock.  Seriously, we had to throw out about half of the supply of medicine.

The missionaries living in Jimani, John and Melissa Henley, wanted the team and us to be able to go to Bate 41, so one day we all loaded up to drive across the border into that side of Haiti.  However, since that border was not an “official” border and the men with guns were not feeling particularly friendly, so we were denied.  The next day, we decided to take matters into our own hands—we all crossed the official Haitian border and then all got into our own precarious-looking rowboats to go across the lake, bailing water out as we went.  Did I mention there are alligators in this lake? 

We made it over and were greeted by a group of kids that we super excited to see us!  This village was heartbreaking to say the least.  A few of the kids were running around with no clothing and all of the houses were made of sticks and mud.  There is no electricity or running water, and the only source of income is to burn bits of wood to make charcoal.  We played with the kids, giving them silly bands and balls and walked around the village praying for people.  One lady pointed to a home we should go to, so we went, only to find a week-old baby boy who was having seizures one right after another, lasting about 11 minutes.  It was helpless.  At home, this baby would be in an ambulance within five minutes and rushed to get medical care. Here, however, it’s a 20-minute boat ride across the lake, but there’s not even a doctor that can see him for a few days.  The good thing:  the baby and his mom are currently here in Port-au-Prince and will be seeing a doctor on Monday.  We also got see Babbas!  He is doing GREAT after his surgery!

After a great week in Jimani making heaps of new friends and sharing life-changing experiences, it was time to go home.  Sara, Ashton and Kinsley came to get us in the truck, so we threw our bags in the back and squeezed 8 people into the five-passenger truck to cross the border.  It was market day, so the border was packed beyond being able to express in words.  It was, hands down, the most chaotic crowd I have ever experienced.  Kinsley, our driver/translator, was in touch with some of his friends at the border (because he has friends everywhere) and was making preparations for getting us back across the border since we got there illegally… it was insane and a bit scary.  We were really concerned that our bags would be grabbed out of the back of the truck, so Brittany and Melanie sat back there with them.  When we got to the actual border, immigration wanted our passports, but Kinsley’s friends came through and kept them out of the right hands.  It was chaotic, stressful, scary and so many more emotions… but God got us through.  At the last checkpoint at a police station, the officer wanted to look at our passports, which would have meant a trip back to the DR for us, but Kinsley asked the officer, “Do you not know who I am?  Do you not know Kinsley?  Ask that other officer!  How do you now know who I am?!”  and we were waved through.  Kinsley can bluff through anything!

We made it back to Port-au-Prince alive and in one piece, and without a stamp in our passports for our time in the DR.