Solidarity (a tiny bit)

It’s been a long and busy week for us, but a good one. Erika and I have truly enjoyed the fellowship of the staff here, and we’ve been able to participate in some great times of prayer and encouragement for them.

That said, I am tired and (I must reluctantly admit) I am already looking forward to going home. I relish my time here and there’s plenty of work yet to be done, but it has been a long year with so little time to rest. The end of this trip will mark the beginning of a sort of respite for us – even if it just means working ordinary, 40-hour weeks for a while.

The American missionary staff here continues to impress me – especially those who sincerely love the nationals and also desire to live as humbly and simply as they can, developing something like solidarity.

For me, the task of documentary photography offers just a glimpse of that solidarity. Earlier this week, I met Yolanda, a disabled, single mother of two. Yolanda cannot afford rent so sleeps on the floor of a house of voodoo. Though her twisted legs often give out underneath her, she walks with her girls to the mission each day to get a bowl of rice for her two daughters – crossing mud flats, a swift river, and what seems like a few miles of terrain to get here.

I made the trek twice – once to find her house, and again early the next morning to document her trip. I was muddy, exhausted, and I destroyed a good pair of sandals (Andy, you knew better than to wear sandals in the wet season…). I cannot imagine walking it in her shoes.

To document her story required stepping into it, if only for a fleeting moment. My Haitian guide told me I was a very magnanimous American for working so hard to learn her story. I thought that was funny, because by those standards she might just be the biggest hero in Haiti.

Some images from her day: