packing

The first name I remember from the emails and letters my sister wrote during her time of voluntary service in Haiti was that of J–. He and my sister worked with Mennonite Central Committee (MCC), and in the years following we have celebrated from afar as J– passed the stringent high school exams, received a promotion at MCC, married, and had two children.

When I went to Haiti last August, J– came to pick us up at the airport, despite the fact that he'd just taken an accounting exam and had likely been up long before dawn to attend a men's Bible study. Later that week J–'s wife prepared a delicious meal of chicken, potatoes, bean soup, rice, and grenadine juice. She had hauled in water so that we could wash our hands, and purchased ice for our drinks. We'd spent the entire week thinking about water, or lack thereof: my sister was researching the affects of floods and mudslides in a rural watershed, although such calamity was hard to conjure in a land that hadn't felt rain in six weeks. The sight—indeed, the touch and taste—of a basin of water and a block of ice melting in an insulated cooler, was generous not just of deed but of thought.

Months ago, my sister applied for an additional grant to study post-disaster situations in Haiti. All too ironically, she was awarded the grant the day of the January 12 earthquake. I'm tagging along once again, and will be heading to Port-au-Prince at the end of the month. J– and his family, like so many others, have lost their home. Tents are scarce, and I'm hoping to bring as many as Delta's weight limits allow. If you or anyone you know is interested in donating money for waterproof tents or tarps, please be in touch (sara.versluis@gmail.com). Alternatively, if you're in my part of the world, and have a serviceable tarp or tent that's been itching to feel the Caribbean air, I've got some suitcases waiting to be packed.