Mardi Gras Memories

Thirty years ago this month, I made a trip to a place called Trou Do.

Trou Do is a remote village in the mountains above Tomazo (Thomazeau), about 30 miles northeast to Port-au-Prince, the capital of Haiti.  The mountain was visible from our home in Letan (l'Etang), but the village was on the back side of the mountain.

Looking up towards Trou d'Eau from our back yard

We left Tomazo for the trek early in the morning when it was still quite dark.  I could not see the trail when we first started, I was following the sound of the person in front of me (I could not see that person either).  A horse was leading the procession.

Pastor Raymond Jimenez riding the horse

Eventually we got to where we had a beautiful view of our home in l'tang

Looking down l'Etang Saumatre
Our house is on the near shore of the lake

When we arrived in the vicinity, I could see why the place got its name.  Trou Do means "water hole" and the area was covered with sinkholes, several of which held water.  I counted to 19 and then gave up.  Some sinkholes were so close together, they shared sides.  Most were about a hundred feet across.

One of the many sinkholes in Trou d'Eau

This is a region that does not see many visitors.  The last white person to go to the area was my predecessor, who had gone five years earlier.  In many parts of Haiti, parents taught their children to be afraid of white people, so when a strange white person appeared, they would run.  But here, they did not know what to think.  When I walked into the village, a young boy, who had never seen a white person before, started jumping up and down screaming, "Wow, Mardi Gras!" over and over. It was early March, close to Mardi Gras season, when people would sometimes dress up in costume.  The boy did not know what else to think upon seeing this person with a white face carrying a back pack.

Children of Trou d'Eau

This is not a wealthy area.  The people lived in small huts.  But everyone was very friendly.  I think I spent a good hour just sitting in a chair holding a child contentedly in my lap.

Turkeys in the yard

After we arrived, I was asked if I could help the people of the area with their drinking water problem.
Because of all the sinkholes, there was not a lot of good surface water for drinking.  Most of the rain was swallowed up in the sinkholes, disappearing into the porous limestone before making an appearance in a spring somewhere at the foot of the mountain.

Carrying water back from the spring

So after resting for a short while, we were off, climbing over the top the mountain and down the other side a short ways.  On the way we passed some women carrying gourds of water up the mountain.

We eventually arrived at the spring.  There was this muddy hole with a small area of clear water.  Children would get up early in the morning while it was dark to come wait in line to dip their cups in the water and scoop water into their gourds.  Getting water took hours.

The spring, after we cleaned it up a bit

So I told the leaders of the area that we could clean this up.  It would cost about $80 for materials.  So over the next while the people pooled their money.  I bought the supplies which they carried up the mountain, waiting for the big day.

When everything was ready I made another hike to Trou d'Eau.  When I arrived at the spring it was like a festival.  It seemed like the whole village was there. The women were cooking pots of rice and beans for the big event.  I asked if their were any masons around, and two men responded to that call, but they told me they've never capped a spring before. "That's alright," I told them, "I'm not a mason.  But together we can to this."

So we got to work. And when we were done, I took the first drink.  If the foreigner drinks the water, in their minds, it must be good.

Filling the gourd now takes only seconds

Two things happened that day. The people of Trou d'Eau got clean water.  And the people also got a great sense of pride. THEY did it.  THEY paid for the materials and brought them up the mountain and THEY did the labor.  I mostly had to just show up and eat lots of rice and beans.

Some of the best things I've ever done I didn't really do.  Life isn't about me or what I can do.  It's about God working through me to bless others.  My job is to listen to God and be available.

You make springs pour water into the ravines, so streams gush down from the mountains.
They provide water for all the animals, and the wild donkeys quench their thirst.
The birds nest beside the streams and sing among the branches of the trees.
Psalm 104:10-12 NLT

Deception

Father and daughter rinse toothbrushes
in the canal

As I watch this father and daughter rinse their toothbrushes in the filthy canal water, it almost makes my stomach turn. Indeed, if I were to do that--and then use the toothbrush--I'm sure my stomach really would start turning.

The canals here don't have the cleanest water. They are not only a source of irrigation water, but also the dumping grounds for all kinds of waste--be it biological or otherwise.

And then I think of the pristine waters formed by the melting snow in the Sierras. Oh how refreshing that water is--such a nice cool respite on a hot summer day in the mountains. (My body is transported to Pear Lake, nestled beneath the crags of Alta Peak in Sequoia National Park. Oh, how I miss those mountain escapes.)

Pear Lake, nestled below Alta Peak

Yet, even there, danger lurks. For even though the water is crystal clear. It can be the home of some nasty parasites: giardia, among other things. And the critters I might consume in that refreshing swig of mountain waters can cause me just as much grief as the stuff in the green murk of the canal in rural Chachoengsao, Thailand. (OK--so the risk is perhaps a bit greater in the murky stuff, but you get my drift.)

So we have to be careful how we judge things. Outward appearances aren't always letting us know what is going on.

This is the challenge we face in trying to start churches here in Thailand. Who are the leaders? Maybe the ones that we at first think are the next great leaders of the church, may not always be the best choice. It's hard to know what is going on inside someone.

And we want to trust, but sometimes it is hard to trust.

Only God knows what it going on deep inside us and so we need to lean on Him to show us who the next leaders are. It might be the unlikely-looking one.

O LORD, you have searched me and known me!
   You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from afar.
You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with all my ways.
   Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O LORD, you know it altogether.
Psalm 139:1-4 (ESV)