The land of Haiti was dusty and grim as if a gray filter was painted across its surface. The detrimental state of the houses and shops the Haitian people occupied could be seen as far as 10,000 feet above in a plane. I realized in that juncture that this is why I was here. I was not here to tan on the beach. I was here to help those in need. I was here to make even one life better. Just at least one life more hopeful.

As we vacated the plane and went into the small airport, I immediately started dripping of sweat. Dr. Borum and Dr. England, two doctors that were apart of my group who had previously come to Haiti on multiple occasions, just smiled. “Welcome to Haiti!” they told Ms. Naomi, a nurse who was also in our group, my brother, and me. After going through customs, Max, a kind Haitian wearing a fabulous fedora, came to help us to our car.

He and his friends led us through the parking lot. I looked around at the cars. Many of them had flat tires, and I rarely saw a car that you would regularly see in an American town. Looking ahead, I saw this shabby trailer-like automobile attached to the back of a truck.

Peeling of paint and thickly rusted, I felt bad for whomever had to ride in such a mode of transportation. Max stopped at the trailer, “Your beautiful chariot! In Haiti, we like to call them tap-taps. We call them this because if you want to get off you just tap on the back and it’ll make a noise to the driver.” Everyone started to pile in. “Well, if this is any indication of what this trip will be like,” I thought. “I better take off my tiara and put on a hat so I don’t get sunburned.” At least the tap-tap had a roof, I assured myself. And aside from the metal stabbing my back, there was at least good ventilation through the bars on the sides.

Driving down the roads of Port-Au-Prince is unlike anything I had seen before. No amount of online pictures or advertisements with images could have prepared me for the calamity that crammed the streets. The tops of shops were tin sheets, you could barely see ahead from all the dust, and my eyes and nose burned from the stench of the pollution. The people lived in their own debris. Mounds of trash piled on the sidewalks. Any river, stream, or water supply was littered with waste. Out of all the emotions that overwhelmed my brain in that instant, the first I felt was confusion. How, why does a place get in such a disastrous state? That was my goal this trip. To understand what circumstances lead to such devastation.

When we arrived at our resort, it seemed like an oasis compared to the rest of Haiti which we had seen. Our room had air conditioning at night, and there was even a pool. The air in the resort seemed much cleaner than that which we had experienced earlier. As we sat down for dinner at one of the tables on the patio, we were served traditional Haitian cuisine: chicken drumsticks, plantains, rice, cucumbers, and potatoes. The tamarind juice we drank was also divine. The Creole influenced food tasted as if we were home in Mississippi. After meeting the owner of the resort, Ernso, and chatting for a while, I went upstairs to get ready for bed. As my sweaty body got ready for a clean shower, I turned on the water. Forget warm water, there was

barely any water to begin with! I scrubbed and scrubbed the soap off with what little water I had hoping that it would not go out mid-shower. After brushing my teeth with the water in my bottle as I could not use the the tap water for fear of getting ill, I hopped into bed. After 30 minutes, I started to sweat. I realized why they only had a sheet to cover up with in bed. I propelled the sheet to take as many layers off as I could. Luckily, my tire grew so great that it overpowered my overheating. Day 1 was finished.

My alarm blared at 6:30 am to start a new day. I snoozed it, per usual, and hoped the minutes would slow down. But sadly they did not, and I trudged out of bed. After doing my morning routine, I put on my scrubs and went to the patio table for breakfast. I loaded up on eggs and french toast as I knew an exhausting day awaited me. We took the tap-tap to the clinic where we had would see patients. My group and I planned to provide insight to Haitian citizens about minor health issues as well as give them proper medicines to help heal these needs. My brother and I were in charge of the check-in process, Ms. Naomi assisted with running tests as well as the pharmacy, and Dr. Borum and Dr. England saw to the patients and their concerns. Each of us had a translator to help us communicate with the Haitian people as they spoke Creole, and we spoke English. After 4 hours of checking blood pressures, temperatures, and asking them about their major bothers, my group and I took a lunch break. We ate snacks which we had brought from the States which included chips and granola bars. After an hour, we got back to work until 3 p.m. when we decided to finish our workday.

After cleaning up, our translators offered to take us to see a little bit of Haiti, to the slum that was across the clinic called Cité Soleil. I was excited to see this world that I had heard so much of. I wanted to experience it myself. As we walked outside, it happened to be at the same time that the schoolkids were getting out. They started walking towards us getting faster and faster until they were in a full-out sprint. I was quickly encircled by giddy children giving me hugs from left and right. As I said goodbye to the schoolchildren, I made my way across the road to Cité Soleil. As I followed the translators, they gave us a mini tour as we kept meeting children along the way. These children held our hands and giggled as they came on our journey with us. We walked by houses, shacks made of whatever scraps could be salvaged around them turned into a boxed shaped area the size of a half bathroom. I saw a woman making and drying cakes, and one of the translators told me it was a popular dish in Cité Soleil. People will mix oil, salt, and clay until they make a cakey mixture, dry them, and then eat the patties. During the tour I decided to take a picture of one of the children, and when I showed them, they were awestruck.

Then it hit me. Majority of these kids had never seen a picture of themselves. Most of them had never seen a picture period. They instantly starting smiling and mumbling words in Creole. I did not quite comprehend what they were saying, but I figured it was along the lines of “Take more pictures! Take more pictures!” So I did. And they kept posing and smiling. Those kids smiles, they were smiles of joy. A pure joy from authentic contentment. These kids had not seen a world outside of Cité Soleil. They did not know better. They were grateful that they had a life on this earth surrounded by friends and family. Detached from the hassle of materialistic items, these children were happy. This consolidated happiness could not be taken no matter what obstacles

had come in their path precedent. And although I could not make out their words, I felt that I could understand their feelings and thoughts.

That night Ernso, the owner of the resort, told us his dream of making a sort of “village”of houses. Houses with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a kitchen for Haitian citizens that had jobs but could not afford a house. Ernso said the people would have 15-20 years to pay off their debt, but he was not doing it for the money. Ernso went to college in Chicago, and that is where he saw how people should truly live. The way that he grew up and the way he sees Haitian people operate is not a way of living; it is merely a way of surviving. He wants to give hope to the people of Haiti. What I had come to recognize in one short day of being in Haiti was that the Haitian people feel as though they do not have an opportunity to break the cycle of poverty. They do not have the drive to push past their current means of living. Many have not seen better experiences so they do not bother to apart from their current lifestyle. And this is not a theme subject just to the people of Haiti, it is seen in every corner of the earth. Sadly, in Haiti, it is witnessed through the extreme of poverty.

The rest of the week was spent understanding the depths of the issues I had encountered during my first two days of the trip. Tuesday and Wednesday I did similar work to that of Monday. Tuesday night we went to a nice restaurant in the Chaîne de la Selle mountains which had fresh air and exquisite Haitian food. It was reassuring that there were parts of Haiti that were well off, but unfortunately, these places were in the mountains. Majority of Haiti was still in acute poverty. Thursday and Friday was spent doing work akin to the labor we had done prior except in a different location: a tent across from our resort. The heat of these two days was draining, but after a while I grew accustomed to it. On Saturday, we decided that we had earned a day of rejuvenation so we drove 2 hours in the tap-tap to the beach. It was breathtaking. The views that I had seen from my airplane window were intensified as they stood right before my eyes.

Sunday was our day of departure. Our flight did not leave until 3:30 p.m. so Ernso asked us to accompany him to his church. The faith that I felt in the attic where the service was held would have moved anyone to tears. People of every age were brought together for their love of God. These people were proud of who they were and the God that they served. There was not one person in that church that was not touched by the words of Scripture. Even though the bulk of the readings and songs were in Creole, I felt that I could understand the meaning behind them. It was universal. In that moment, I concluded that although I had gone to Haiti to help others, I had come to understand much more about people and life outside of my socioeconomic status in return. We ended up helping 560 patients. And those 560 people as well as the many that I met throughout my week of Haiti taught me how to feel genuine happiness. They showed me how to be grateful for things that I did not even acknowledge to be privileges before coming to Haiti. Things like water, a room to sleep in, and even living under the protection of such a powerful country like the USA are things Haitians dream of having. And I was given these things as if they were a birthright to me. None of us should just give up everything we were so blessed to be given throughout our lives, but what we should be doing is understanding how we can use these gifts to help those who are fighting to make it day by day.

Sami Dulam is a 10th grader at Deerfield Academy, Mass., and a Natchez native.