We’re safely back in Port au Prince, staying at the Hospice St. Joseph for one final night before returning home tomorrow.
The sounds of the city are very different from the sounds of the countryside. Roosters (which, contrary to popular myth, do not crow only at dawn) are replaced by generators, dogs, and diesel motors. From the porch, I can see the sports stadium, the tankers in the harbor, and the city stretching up the hill. We bought art that a local guy made from the lid of an oil drum. I think that’s sort of cool.
Our group has made a habit of talking about the days events each evening. Tonight, we talked over our accomplishments and impressions from the week, and it was good. A few people wept, a few others shared their visions for the future. I don’t know yet what has changed for me specifically, but I’m really glad that I came to this place, saw the situation, and met the people here. I wouldn’t describe it as “life changing,” exactly, but I can certainly see a lot of stuff more clearly from here than I could in the states.
That, all by itself, makes the trip worthwhile.
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