Heading Home

Heading Home

Jamel, Haiti
Summer 2013


Saturday, August 10-  It is 430 AM, departure day, the end of my time in Haiti.  The last six weeks have been great. I can’t really describe my feelings at the moment. I am neither happy nor sad.  I check to make sure the other volunteers are up and ready to go.  Everyone is up, sleepy but up.  We all gather in silence. Our van is waiting to take us to the airport for a 9:30 flight to Miami.  It is dark and the streets are deserted.  It’s hard to see where we are going because there are no street lights and it appears as if our van only has one working head light.  

To add to this mess, I worry about our driver.  He was out until 1:30 AM this morning, dancing in a local club with our young doctors.  He must be exhausted and I am not confident in his ability to get us to the airport safely.  I try to talk to him to keep him company.  But he does not understand English and there is no Creole coming out of me.  I am hoping my mere noise will help to keep him awake.

As the sun begins to peak up over the dusty horizon, the streets take on life.  It is Saturday, Market Day.  People display their meager wares all alone the streets.  Goats, carts and people dodge one another as they scurry to get out of our way as we come barreling through the narrow, rough streets.

We get to the airport in three hours and as we open the doors, we are bombarded by men who want to grab our luggage for us.  We fight them off and say our goodbyes to Max.  He hurries back in to the van, anxious to get this last airport run, of the summer, over.  The van quickly becomes a pinpoint in the distant landscape and all my thoughts are now focused on returning home to my family.