After church, we walked to a nearby homeless shelter. I’m still not sure what that means in Haiti. There are probably hundreds of thousands if not millions of homeless in Haiti right now. What it meant for these people was a shelter where they slept. It was littered with garbage that a goat was picking through. It wreaked of urine and the people we saw sat quitely around a small makeshift stove. A mom was braiding her daughter’s hair. It felt empty. Alone. It was hard not to seem like a tourist in search of a good pic to take home that showed the disparity of it all. I took a couple of pics because I can’t help but want to capture the beauty of these people in hollow place of trash. Beautiful people.
Later a team of doctors came back to the shelter… to see if they could help the people that were there. Two of our team members went into a room around the corner from where these pics were taken. My friend Gene described the scene as “two hours he wished he could erase.” He and a nurse found a man laying on a pile of rags isolated in a dimly lit room. He was covered in his own feces and vomit and was dying. All they could do is clean him up. Its times like these that I can’t comprehend. Its times like these that I thank God that I wasn’t there to see it because I know my own limits and my weakness. It makes me ache to think of what it would be like to die alone on a pile of rags. I still don’t understand how to get over this place.