In the Midst of Disparity

Blog by Austin Guevara

Our week is nearly completed here in Haiti, and it’s been nothing but a constant stream of “God moments.”  We ought to call this “God time.”  As I’ve discussed with my good buddy Austin Clemens, a week seems impossibly long for us to have been here; it’s gone by so quickly.  Yet simultaneously, it feels as though we’ve always been here.  Tomorrow will dawn with uneasy bitter-sweet feelings.  We’re ready to return, but it’s heartbreaking to leave this place we now call home.

My greatest personal character alteration has been my realization that I have nothing to complain about in my life.  I realize the insignificance of all my menial complaints and qualms.  What is a bit of tiredness throughout the day compared to the life of poverty and hunger lived by so many?  And what really bugs me is that the hundreds of people that we’ve seen in our short time here are a minuscule representation of all those living in similar conditions, not only in Haiti, but all over the world.

Earlier in the week, a discussion fell towards the feeling of guilt and anger accompanied with the return home.  Clinton said that when he returned home last year, he kept asking himself, “What gives us the right to live this way when there are others in such disparity?”  What makes me feel most guilty is that I keep wishing I could be home, where I have all my clean clothes, private room, and private bathroom.  Personally, I never could stand the whole “processing” and “debriefing” that accompanies missions  trips, and I really regret that now.  There’s going to be a lot to mull over after this experience.

Our group leaders encouraged us to take “mental snapshots,” of things we’ve seen this week.  I have far too many to remember them all. It’s unspeakably heartening to look into the eyes of a child here, to see their immaculate, brilliant smile, and see how they’re undaunted by the suffocating atmosphere of despair.  There’s hope in Haiti, and now hope in my heart.

Austin Guevara