EXCEPT I AM MOVED WITH COMPASSION

As we swung off the tarmac onto the dusty corrugated dirt track into the bush it felt like we had just left whatever civilisation there was behind. My guide and companion, Major Lucien (The Salvation Army Haiti's Leader) knew the track well and his familiarity led to the gusto with which he threw the vehicle around bends and through flooded areas. We flew round a corner only to startle a couple of horses that looked at us like we were in the wrong place, and by this stage I was wondering if we were.

The only life I had seen since leaving the main road to the Dominican Republic were the horses and a couple of startled goats; for as far as I could see, all I could see was salt bush and desert foliage - in the far distance the largest lake in Haiti spread out below the cloud shrouded mountains - it looked idyllic. (Unfortunately the lake is salt water and not much use to the people in the area.)

All of a sudden, as we crested another mound and the 4 wheel drive settled onto all 4 wheels, I spotted the reflection of the sun on some flat tin roofs. There was a village of mud brick, coconut frond, tinned roofed houses in the middle of this nowhere. As we drove through the village, as parched as any desert, Major Lucian commented that we had arrived in "Balan, the poorest place in Haiti that The Salvation Army works".

The Salvation Army has the biggest 'compound' in town which houses 1 school classroom, a canteen ("for when we can get them some food"), a ministers house, and a church. [Photos opposite] surrounded what can only be described as an arid playground. 150 children attend school here.

I wish I could do justice to the emotions that this place evokes in me. (But I'm not good at feelings at the best of times; just ask my wife and daughter!). The walk to the Church was another sensory overload: the sun was already beating down hot and dry, the breeze through the bush was timid, the lizards scurrying away from potential threat, the drum being assaulted in the Church accompanied by the most enthusiastic singing and the spotless white dresses of the little girls running to join the chorus.

Here in the middle of the desert in Haiti, in a village that has no water supply, no electricity, no resources of any kind; in a community that boasts about 1,000 people in the ultimate minimalist environment I joined the 30 or so Salvationists and sang (in Creole): 

Except I am moved with compassion / How dwelleth thy Spirit in me? / In word and in deed / Burning love is my need; / I know I can find this in thee.

It is not with might to establish the right, / Nor yet with the wise to give rest; / The mind cannot show what the heart longs to know / Nor comfort a people distressed. / O Saviour of men, touch my spirit again, / And grant that thy servant may be / Intense every day, as I labor and pray, / Both instant and constant for thee.

The worship this morning went for about 3 joy filled, enthusiastic hours and whilst the people of Balan lack physical resources it was never going to stop the utter conviction they have that God, Creator and Friend, is their constant resource and their reason for living.

YOUR ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER

I have written about this before: in a different country and a different disaster, but once again I have been disappinted by those Christian T-Shirt Evangelsits who appear at every disaster. Haiti has had its fair share, probably for a long time, but certainly since January 12 of "Mission Teams".

The flight I arrived on had it's obligatory collection of bright coloured Mission TeamT-Shirts and cargo pants, and just about every time I pass the airport (which I do daily) Haiti is welcoming another crowd of Christians coming to spend a week putting back together another church or mission centre. (Forgive the cynicism dripping off my furrowed brow!)

Today it was about 20 assorted lime green shirts of varied shapes and sizes, khaki cargo 3/4 length trousers and cameras and ID cards dangling on red lanyards around their necks. In sunflower yellow writing the back of the T-Shirt announced that "my love of Christ compells me to bring hope to the victims of the Haiti earthquake", followed by the name of the Church, and the front of the Shirt reminded me that "God sent his Son because he loves the whosoever".

Now, I have a natural aversion to T-Shirts like that: maybe because I am actually quite a shy guy, maybe because I am a bad evangelist, maybe because I am not willing to be a 'fool or Christ'. But mostly because if you are going to wear the shirt, your actions -the way you show respect and love to others - must match your message.

And today, without going into details, let me just say that the actions of some of these evangelists of hope and love did not match their message. Just because you are white and wearing a lime green shirt does not make you more important than the kid who is trying to get enough to eat by dusting your vehicle as you idle at the lights. Just because you have 'come to do mission' does not make your place and time in the line more precious than the three Haitians that were waiting already.

I am reminded that some people in the world have just enough religion to be dangerous, but not enough religion to love. Either don't wear the shirt, or make sure your actions, at all times and in all circumstances, match your advertisment. (Maybe another reason I don't like the to wear the T-Shirts.)

TRUST, RESPECT AND INTEGRITY

This week has been a tough one (so far). Not because of sad stories or terrible sights (all though there have been those), but because of difficult decisions, intense negotiations and the resultant actions.

But even in the instances of conflict; when emotions were high, tempers were flaring and the air was thick with fear and frustration there were micro-glimpses of grace and milli-moments of hope. These instantaneous moments of encouragement were enough to keep me focused on the big picture, not because I was right - but because I was not alone.

Since arriving I have been trying to win over the trust and respect of local partners. It has been a tough gig because some feel like they were ignored, trodden on and bullied by imported 'professionals'; people who made it clear that they knew best and that being informed by local knowledge and relationships was not a priority. (Some may not feel this accusation justified - but that is irrelevant - it is how the locals felt!)

It has been a long slog of meetings and meals, conflicts and concessions but it all came good this week when we stood united, and together we fought down the fears of abandonment and the frustrations of broken promises. We were like a well practiced doubles partnership as we took it in turns to back each other up and keep the rally alive long enough to finish the match off with what looked like a well rehearsed play.

The ultimate compliment came, for me, when the day after, my partner said that he appreciated the way I finished off the meeting; the way I honoured his people and yet stood firm and fair; it proved, he said, that he could trust me and my word.

Deep lasting transformations (not surface level wardrobe changes) occur when there is a mutual atmosphere of TRUST and RESPECT. Without these you will not transform society or individuals. Without these essentials of RELATIONSHIP you are just a 'resounding gong' - you will make an impact, and there may be some change - but it will fade away in the winds of confusion and fear. On the other hand, a relationship of trust, respect and integrity will take time, and it will be messy - but when it connects it not only mobilises an individual - it can transform a world.

FRUSTRATIONS

So this week again our Camp Manager and her team were reminded that the heroes can quickly become the enemy. It's a natural part of the cycle of disaster recovery and one that is not limited by culture, language or cause of emergency.

In Sri Lanka following the Tsunami (2004) we saw this reversal of fortunes after about 4 weeks. In Whittlesea (Australia) after the Black Saturday bushfires (2009) we saw it begin a little earlier, after about 2 weeks. Here, in Place de la Paix, Haiti (the IDP camp comprising about 20,000 people that The Salvation Army manages) the tide of emotions manifest through blame and anger, celebration and joy has ebbed and flowed over the life of the camp. But this week it got nasty again and took a few by surprise.

It often starts because survivors know, or believe, that there are resources available, but they remain hungry, cold, wet or sick. They hear that the material they need is on the dock, but isn't being released. They see reports claiming that the government has the promise of millions of dollars (and euros etc) but it isn't coming. And the only people that they can see, the only people that they can get to are the rescuers - the only people that continue to be present with them are the relief agents - they have been there from the beginning. So who else can a survivor vent their frustrations on, who else will listen - the people that make the big decisions aren't around, and seem to be deaf and blind to the reality.

So when the frustrations, anger and yelling comes, and it will, remember that's what you signed up for (that's why you get the emblazoned vest with all the pockets). It's hard not to take it personally, but you know what: it's not about you. You have to cop it, you have to manage it, but remember why you're here and like someone else said "do it for the least, the hungry, the tired, the cold, the naked, and after they've yelled, do it again" (my paraphrase) and by these acts they will know who represent.