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…by Gerry Creedon

Ange Gardien. A few miles from Gros Marin, Haiti, about 8 p.m. I had a panic attack. We were on the last leg of a long journey to our sister parishes from Washington to Miami, Port au Prince and Cavaillon. We had left the capital about 1:30 p.m. and had bounced over potholes for hours. We later discovered that we had broken a spring traversing a "police couchee", a sleeping policeman or ramp. At Miami we had bought gifts for Peres Marquis and Jocelyn, two bottles of four-star Jameson Whiskey, which is why I was having this anxiety. I suddenly realized that I had left the bottles outside in the bed of the jeep. Immediately on arrival I went to pick up the pieces. To my wonderment I found them safely enfolded in the lap of Marie Michelle, a 12-year-old girl from Gros Marin. She was my guardian angel. During the visit when her peers were dancing and singing for our entertainment she hid behind a door. However, when I lost an item, often, she knew exactly where I had mislaid it. She was one of many beautiful Haitian children who were in the foreground of our visit.

L'eglise. The parishes of Cavaillon and Gros Marin are led by two inspiring priests, Peres Jocelyn Musalier and Marquis Charles. We went with them to visit the fishing village of Pont de Piment, their birthplace on the west coast. We met Marquis' widowed father and Jocelyn's handicapped uncle and his aged, pious aunt. The road there resembled the highway to Monterrey, for scenic beauty, but not in the rivers we forded or the iron bridges we crossed that lacked some metal sheets! The village surrounded an elegant church. The quality of construction and maintenance of the chapel, rectory, convent and school reflects the centrality of Catholic Christianity in the culture of Haiti and the hope the church brings here and hereafter. I learned that there are 200 seminarians in the major seminary to serve Haiti's nine dioceses. Haiti has so many priests that it sends priests to Latin America and the States, like Ireland in the '50s. Is there a connection between poverty and religion? It is not only the quantity but the quality of Haiti's priests that impresses. Ask Jocelyn about the politics of Haiti and you will find an ironic and perceptive view of Haiti and her relationship with the USA. Encouraged by a snifter of rum, Marquis spoke eloquently of the "Pas encore", the not yet of the theology of hope. We live in the tension between our present reality and the not yet realized dream of the Kingdom.

As well as the buildings and the priesthood, the structure of leadership and community development that permeates the Haitian Church is remarkable. Each parish is a network of Chapelles and Ti Egliz, little churches. The Ti Egliz is a movement of small groups similar to Gathering that reviews the scriptures in the light of a social analysis of the root causes of community problem. They also advocate for solutions, like roads and schools. There are eight such groups in Cavaillon. The dominant structure is the Chapelle. Each parish comprises at least 10 chapelles or districts. Each district meets in a chapelle, although four of Cavaillon's chapelles meet in local schools. Each chapelle elects a director and an animator. The director coordinates the weekly liturgy of the Word and the choir, while the animator facilitates catechesis, community meetings and serves as liaison to the parish. The priests celebrates the sacraments, encourages the formation of the leadership, provides financial support and intervenes in the leadership of the community only when conflicts occur. The directors and animators receive training from the diocese.

Finances. The management of money is another story. In a country where resources are scarce, finances are directly under the supervision of the clergy. The bank receives deposits from the church only when projects are completed. In that way the priests avoid knowledge circulating in the community that they have cash in hand. This avoids competition among groups and assists with security. There have been cases where bank officials have shared information with thieves. However, when it comes to ends and goals, there is open dialogue between pastor and community leaders as was clear in our visit to Flamand. An animator, Antonine, could easily qualify as an aggressive community activist as she advocated for the completion of their chapelle.

Les enfants. The children of Ylet demonstrated the beauty and poignancy of life on their remote island. They offered us coconut juice from the tree they had climbed, welcomed us to their chapel made from sticks and sang us epiphany songs as colorful as the yellow ribbons in their hair or their church/school uniforms. They told how they were rowed by their fathers in dug-out canoes to the mainland each morning at 5 a.m. and then walked the next four hours to Cavaillon for school, repeating the journey in the afternoon, such is their thirst for education and a better life.

Gloire. "The liturgy is the summit and source of the church's life" is a trite phrase from Vatican 11. It takes on life in the Sunday celebration at Cavaillon. The strong sound of drums, guitars and accordions bring the children around the Altar to accompany the Sanctus and the Agnus Dei in a dance for God. Their moving feet, their elevated eyes and their long tapered fingers celebrate the word and the bread of life. Let the final word be praise, "Gloire au Prince de Pain," glory to the prince of bread!

… by Larisa Epatko

My first impression when walking off the plane in Port au Prince, Haiti, with its warm air and palm tree-speckled hills was "Why is this place not an eco-tourism destination?" The political problems seem so insurmountable and make even small changes effected by organizations and charities, such as the assistance from St. Charles, all the more important.

The people we met made the next lasting impression, from the children who live around the rectory at Gros Marin, changing several times a day in hopes that we would take more pictures of them (of course, we did), to the persistent Amazon at Cavaillon, who made sure -- in his spotty English -- that we understood the lunch program needs of the elementary schools. Along with providing comfortable places to stay, Peres Jocelyn and Marquis gave us a broad view of the parishes' goals and patiently answered many questions from the St. Charles Haiti Committee.

One day, we brought a little boy named Kim who had a stomach ailment to a clinic in Aquin run by Sister Althea, who was out of town at the time. Luckily, Sister Marie Claire, a native of France, stepped in to provide medical advice and reassuring hugs for the nervous boy. After we returned home, Kim gave Fr. Gerry, Gail and me each a kiss.

The purpose of our visit – assessing the two communities' needs – brought us to more interesting places that offered glimpses into how people live, such as a local bathing and clothes-washing stream, various churches with their colorful tissue paper decorations and wooden instruments in the corner (usually maracas, a drum and bass with a taught rope serving as the only "string"), and homes where families served us tasty and filling meals. In some places, all the residents had to offer was sweet, refreshing coconut water straight off the tree. With a few deft machete chops, the men would fashion drinking holes in the oblong green coconuts. In the island of Ylet, a little girl touched my heart by carrying her doll in its original plastic bag to keep it in pristine condition. A man from Flamand made another impression with his simple request: "remember me."

…by Gail Goodridge

It is a near-blinding light saturating the tarmac,
the handrails of the mobile stairway,
the people crowded chock-a-block on the observation deck
as you descend at first curiously into Haiti.

It is a radiant yet vulnerable, welcoming light
on the faces of small children totally unguarded
as they approach you,
accede to your entreaties to sing, to dance, to recite poetry.
They seek only to please.

It is a fresh, breaking light
on the spiral crotons, the red hibiscus and the furtive geckos
in the morning gardens of Gros Marin.
Gently overtaking the sleepy shade from the grape trees
protecting the presbytere porch in Cavaillon.
Splashing unavoidable recognition on the ubiquitous breadfruit trees.

It is the light-reflecting faces
of women at the tete du source, washing their clothes against the rocks
in the noonday sun,
and of the chapelle directeur and his animateur son standing tall
as they recount their efforts and vision to nourish a hungry community
of faith in their quiet village tucked away behind God’s back.

It is the lingering light of crepescule
on the gently undulating Caribbean waves,
the ancient pastoral hillsides of Flamand,
the quiet waters parted almost imperceptibly by a hand-dug-out canoe,
and on the community of Ylet waving goodbye from a retreating shoreline.

While there is also a darkness
of momentary human misunderstanding
and our longstanding hemispheric neglect and blind-sightedness
regarding this orphaned sister nation,

at the end of the day, there are multitudes of stars
in fearless witness to the call for justice.

And amid the long night of darkness
there is the healing, fastening light of reconciliation,
the exhilarating light of praise and re-creation,
the constant, unquenchable light of hope.

Revised/reviewed February 25, 2002