Some of you might remember this photo I sent out in April 2017 (above) of the security guard at the Palm Inn, on Easter Sunday morning, sitting, reading his Bible, with his shotgun across his lap. That photo took on a much greater emotional significance for me several months later.
You might think that after 21 trips to Haiti there would probably not be a lot of things that hit me real hard emotionally anymore. But on every trip, there’s always still something – and usually several somethings. More often than not it’s the little, unexpected things that sneak up and hit me out of the blue.
Saturday August 5, 2017 was one of those moments…
It’s the final morning in Haiti for our summer team, and all of us are pulling the luggage and supply bags out of our rooms at the Palm Inn, and carrying everything to the center of the courtyard to wait for JT, Bwa, and our bus driver to come pick us up and take us to the Cazeau Orphanage for a little while before we then have to leave for the airport.
I’m down in Maddy and Ashtyn’s room, grabbing a couple of their suitcases, when this security guard comes up to me – same guy from the Easter morning picture. He’s asking me something in Creole that I’m trying to translate in my head; after thinking for a second, I realize he’s asking me if I can give him some kind of “Christian Book.” I’m thinking he means just any kind of Christian book, something in French or Creole, so I tell him (as best I can with my very rudimentary Creole) that I don’t have anything with me, but I can try to get something and bring it back to him the next time I come to Haiti. He smiles, thanks me, and walks away.
I don’t realize it at the time, but apparently he has a specific book in mind. Out of the corner of my eye I see him walking over to a small table, setting his shotgun down, tearing a section off a manila envelope, and then scribbling something down. A few moment later he walks back over to me, and hands me this piece of paper:
And then he looks at me and says, “You won’t forget me?”
Barely able to speak at that point, I assure the man that I will definitely not forget him.
I don’t know if maybe this man has children of his own, or perhaps is just trying to learn some basic English, but there was something so pure, and simple, and innocent about this humble request – coming from the security guard with the shotgun – that it really hit me incredibly hard emotionally.
I walk over to Jim Hopkins, who was with me back in April on Easter Sunday when we saw the guard reading his Bible, and I briefly tell Jim what’s just happened. When I show Jim the little slip of yellow paper I can tell it hits him the same way – we both stand there for a moment, fighting back tears, unable to speak.
As I told the rest of the team later, I think that this is really quite a commendation of all our team members – those on our summer team, and those who have come on previous trips; the security guard was clearly aware of what our groups come to Haiti for, and I think it speaks highly of our team members that he felt comfortable making such a request.
So, yes, there are places we go where we still get the teenage boys saying “give me my money” or “give me my (soccer) ball” – but to be on the receiving end of a request such as this, as small and simple as it may seem, it’s one of those things that makes me say, “yes…this is why we come…this is why we do this.”
By the way: The next Friday I ordered the book on Amazon – less than $15, even with shipping and handling. Possibly the best $15 I spent in 2017.
And it was taken back with us to the Palm Inn when we returned on our next trip.
