Trip to the Moon

Have you ever been to the moon? Have you ever wondered what it would be like on the moon? I actually have sat and pondered that thought. I have watched sci-fi movie after movie and placed myself in the center of the action. What would it be like?
Going to Haiti for the first time in fifteen years, for the first time after the earthquake was like going to the moon. A place where nothing exist. Time stands still and the days are long.
It started with a non-stop flight to Santo Domingo . When we arrive we are not clear if we need to meet a contact person at the airport or make our way to the Caribe Tours bus company. We take a moment to clear our minds, take breath and then I decide to exercise my Spanish to inquire about the cost of a taxi to Caribe Tours. Not convinced by the price OR the driver I return inside the airport. I see a clean cut gentleman standing in near my party with a giant green army duffle and a clear bag which contents clearly appeared to be a tent. I walked up to him confidently thinking that maybe he was a part of the group we were meeting and asked if he was a part of our group. He said no. I asked him what group he was a part of. He said none and that he was there alone. Alone and on his way to Haiti. Would you like a ride? I went to the girls and introduced them to him. We talked for a while about why we were all there. He shared that he was meeting a team in Port-au-Prince and that we were welcome to take ride with his friend to the bus stop, about an hour away. I wouldn't dare do this had it been JFK but I didn’t think twice in Santo Domingo. We shared a common bond right off the back and this made us family. His name was Marc Baptiste. Photographer. Google him. Wow.
In the car with Marc Baptiste, his old Haitian friend, and my companions, inside an old beat up Mercedes Benz. We were in the back seat drinking up the exhaust fumes that filled the car and the surrounding air outside. This was nothing compared to what we will smell in Haiti according to the older man. Marc's friend gave us a rundown of how we should "conduct" ourselves in Haiti. The debrief was something out of raiders of the lost ark. He said we should spend the week virtually fasting. That we should not eat ANYTHING in Haiti . The whole country was filled with (in French)"Microbes". Germs. He warned us to only eat and drink when it was absolutely necessary. As I type these words, I am recovering from a nasty stomach virus. Vomiting and Diarrhea. I must have surely forgotten these pearls of wisdom. Now we are flying down the road, noisy wind and motor, we are all yelling to be heard. He continues with the debrief and says that we should wear mask because the smell is so bad. This man, who was born in Haiti, had not been back in over 30 years. His hair was permed slick and wavy. He played merengue in the car and barely spoke Creole anymore. Living in Santo Domingo he was only 150 miles from his birth country. Seemed he didn't care much to remember.
We finally make it to the bus after a crazy ride through the busy morning commute of Santo Domingo. We board the bus and are on our way. I'm killing my camera with videos of the beautiful mountains and lakes, people talking. We soon cross the border and the landscape immediately changes. It’s like crossing over into an alter existence. The mountains are brown not green. The roads are eroded and unpaved. Dust swirls around the air. It was as if no oxygen was flowing through my country. Like a human body completely depleted of all nutrients,food,water with no love,no sun and no air. Deserted. Desolate. Alone. The land itself was just sad.

As we entered in our big shiny yellow bus. We begin to see the first glimpses of the city. The crushed buildings that my aunt described as being put through a grinder. In my mind I had to wonder if a dump truck hadn't just backed up and dropped these rocks or if this were really a house once upon a time?
On our way to our final destination, I would have never imagined the wonderful and amazing people I would meet while in Haiti. I saw first hand that the world was responding to the cry of my people. There was young man,Brad,a 16 year old, who traveled alone to join our group in Haiti. There was Jackie a 40 something year old woman who came alone with her 16 year old daughter. There was Daywee and Joshua a dating couple from Vancouver.They were only 18 and 20 years old. There was Tex,Andrew and Krista,mid twenties from Ohio. Bogdan a medical resident from the Netherlands and others. I was floored by their compassion for Haiti. There were Haitians who dared not make the trip but here they were sacrificing their money,vacation time, comfort and health to offer help and a loving hand. Sitting on that bus I had to pinch myself mentally and say. I am here. I made it. I am in Haiti . I AM REALLY HERE.