THE FIRST THREE days in Haiti passed in a blur. While Sarah Beth roamed the neighborhood getting to know the children, Rhonda worked Kaylan mercilessly at the medical clinic, training her in skills she lacked, like suturing and giving shots. Kaylan had knowledge of nutrition practices, health needs, the body, and basic chemistry, but the practical, hands-on skills escaped her. As Rhonda trained her, she realized how little she actually knew. Book knowledge only went so far. In a country like Haiti, though, whoever was present to help handled any and every emergency. Doctors and volunteers alike became masters in the art of “winging it” for the sake of saving a life.
Patients came and went. Kaylan brought them water as they waited and spoke to children who shyly smiled back, curiosity shining from big, dark eyes. To build relationships, she and Sarah Beth had even joined in a soccer game the night before. A rolled-up lump of trash had served as a ball until Sarah Beth presented the checkered ball she had slipped in her suitcase in place of a pair of shoes. The excitement of the children shattered the language barrier. Laughter became the means of communication. Kaylan had fallen in love—not with a man, but with a people.
Today was her day. Rhonda had declared her ready to start seeing patients on her own. This day might test everything she held dear about her new romance.
Her interpreter, Abraham, entered the clinic with a big grin, his white teeth gleaming against his dark skin. Sunglasses rested on his head, and his designer jeans spoke of American attempts to provide for this country. The Haitian flag on his T-shirt spoke of his pride. Kaylan warmed at his presence, thanking God for this lanky teen.
“I feel called of God to lead my people, Kaylan. I will teach them the truth about Jesus Christ,” he had told her on her first day at the clinic. He was in his first year at the local seminary and volunteered as an interpreter with Rhonda in his free time.
“I’m ready.” Her eyes flitted around the room, finding her first patient, a young girl of about fifteen with a child in her arms.
“You be God’s hands today, and I will be His mouthpiece, and together we will make a great team. Wi?” Abe held up his hand for a high-five, something Sarah Beth had taught him. His grin was infectious.
“Wi.” The crack of their hands drew several curious looks from those waiting.
Kaylan knelt down in front of the young girl and brushed her fingertips across the head of the sleeping baby.
“Are you Tasha?” The girl nodded as Abraham translated, Kaylan understanding bits and pieces from her study of French. “Tasha, I’m Kaylan. Let’s go back and check you and your little man out, okay?” Tasha rose and followed Kaylan to a small room in the back of the clinic where Rhonda inventoried supplies. She had promised to listen and observe, stepping in only if necessary.
“May I hold him?”
Tasha handed her baby to Kaylan reluctantly. Kaylan placed her hand on his tiny back, feeling the rattle through his thin shirt as he breathed. “What’s his name?”
“Kenny.”
“He’s beautiful.”
Tasha grinned, her hesitancy dropping away. “Wi. A gift.”
Kaylan placed Kenny on his back in a small basinet then displayed a pamphlet she’d brought with her, outlining in Creole good foods to eat so Tasha and Kenny would receive the nutrition they desperately needed. “Do your best to eat chicken or pork daily to satisfy your protein requirement. Fruits and vegetables are necessary too, as well as grain or bread of some kind.” She stopped and waited for Abe to translate. He looked at her, his eyes wide and confused.
“Sorry, Abe. Do I need to slow down?”
Tasha’s eyes swiveled back and forth between them, her forehead wrinkling.
“Kaylan, I cannot tell her that.”
“But that’s what she needs while she breast-feeds, so she and Kenny will be healthy. I’ve researched this. I have a plan. It’ll be okay.”
“I do not think you understand the ways of Haiti.” He shook his head sadly and spread his hands, imploring. “Do you not know what she is?”
“She’s a teen mom who needs help.”
Rhonda’s brisk voice sounded behind them in the small room. “Kaylan, may I speak with you for a moment?”
Kaylan followed Rhonda from the room as she replayed the scene again in her mind. Had she done something wrong? She knew what she was saying. How many times had she designed a plan like this in class or for a project in a local school with students who rarely received proper nutrition? Rhonda shut the door of the small office behind her.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“Kaylan, Tasha is a teen mom because she is a prostitute. Her dad doesn’t work, and her mom has several small children. Tasha is the oldest, and to help her family, she did the only thing she knew how—she sold herself.”
No girl should ever need to resort to that. Kaylan’s anger built like a storm cloud toward Tasha’s father and the men who took advantage of the beautiful teen. Tasha had seen far more than Kaylan could even imagine. Alabama grew more distant by the hour, and the safe bubble Kaylan had always known seemed like a cruel joke.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. But I still don’t understand. Why wouldn’t Abe translate what I said?”
“Because her family can’t afford to buy chicken or pork. They barely afford one meal a day for the whole family. Why do you think she and Kenny are so malnourished?”
“But, Rhonda, she can’t get healthy if she doesn’t eat protein and more than one meal. What am I supposed to tell her? She can’t afford it, but she needs it.” Kaylan paced the small room. She could fix this. She needed to fix this.
“Kaylan, this is the reality for many who live in the shanty towns. Think of alternative ways she could have protein and grain, maybe with less expensive food.”
Kaylan raked fingers through her hair, yanking when they caught in her curls. “What if I help pay for some of her food? What if we had her over to the house and cooked a meal for her? Rhonda, there’s got to be something.”
Rhonda shook her head. “Are you going to do that for every teenage mother, every hungry family, every malnourished child?”
“If I have to.” Kaylan’s voice rose and cracked. How could she help so many? How could she not? There had to be a break in this terrible cycle, a way to teach and train these women.
Rhonda hugged Kaylan. A tear slipped down Kaylan’s cheek, and she swiped it away. She felt helpless to change the life of one. How could she change the lives of so many?
She pulled back from Rhonda and paced the room again, her mind whirling with possibilities.
All right, Lord. You wanted me here, and I’m here, so now what? How do I help Tasha and those like her? How do I fix this?
She remembered something from a study one of her classmates had done of nutrition alternatives in Africa. If they couldn’t eat meat, then they needed to understand the nutritional need to make a whole protein with beans and rice or peanuts and a grain. She knew some of them couldn’t even afford that. Maybe she could help them combine these cheaper alternatives to get the proper nutrients for themselves and their malnourished children. Her mind spun.
A soft laugh came from Rhonda, who stood watching her from across the room. Kaylan stopped pacing. “What’s so funny?”
“Did you come to change the world, kiddo? ’Cause that’s not your job.”
“Maybe I forgot.” She shrugged. “But I’m not sure how to help Tasha. Everything I’ve learned seems useless here.”
“It’s real life. This isn’t a classroom. These people live in poverty daily, and they accept it. This is their normal.” Wrapping her arm around Kaylan, she led them back to Tasha. “The question is, kiddo, what are you going to do about it?”
Kaylan’s fists clenched at her sides. She wasn’t sure what to do yet, but she wasn’t done trying.
“Miss Kaylan, pass, pass!” Reuben jumped up and down, his green shorts catching the dust from the street. Kaylan shot the soccer ball in his direction through the tangled legs of kids from the nearest shanty village. His bare foot stopped the ball mid-roll, and he propelled it toward the makeshift goal between two dilapidated homes. Some of the kids had never played with a real ball.
Kaylan cheered him on, admiring the grace in his small body. She and Sarah Beth had stayed up late the night before to welcome the new year, and after a long Saturday at the clinic, they pulled out the soccer ball again. Local kids flocked en masse to meet the girls, their beautiful, dark eyes focused on the ball in Sarah Beth’s hands.
More hands had touched Kaylan’s hair in the past hour than in her entire life. Her auburn hair and green eyes were an anomaly, a beacon amid the dark bodies and dust. A woman in the market had already asked to paint her.
Reuben ran to her, jabbering in Creole about his victory shot. “Goal, Kaylan, goal.”
She rubbed his short hair, his joy infectious. “Bon travay, Reuben.”
He ran to Abraham, grabbed his hand, and pulled him over to Kaylan. Abraham translated. “He wants to know how to say it in English. He says he will be a great soccer player someday, and he must learn English before he can play in America.”
She knelt down in front of the boy. “Good job, Reuben.”
His eyes squinted, and his mouth worked to form the words.
She laughed and motioned back to the game as he butchered the phrase for the fifth time. “We’ll work on it.”
A hand grabbed the back of her thigh, and Kaylan jumped at the light contact. A little girl with round eyes and stickers covering her face gazed up at Kaylan. Sarah Beth skipped toward her.
“Just added the beads to Sophia’s hair. What do ya think?”
“Trèe bèl, Sophia.” Kaylan’s heart went out to the small child, remembering Tasha. Would it be this little girl’s fate to sell herself for a loaf of bread or a bag of beans? Kaylan grew up hearing how beautiful she was, how treasured, knowing her worth was in Christ. Did this little girl understand that there was something more than the struggle for food? When survival was paramount, the black-and-white rules became a murky gray.
“She wants to know if you will kick her the ball,” Sarah Beth said, breaking into Kaylan’s thoughts.
“Wi, Sophia.” The smile she received could have melted a glacier. Kaylan pointed and Sophia took off running, her little arms pumping and her bottom lip puckered in focus. Reuben grabbed her hand and showed her where to go. Kaylan was proud of him. His talent hadn’t gone to his head yet.
Kaylan blew a whistle, and the kids shifted from foot to foot in anticipation, their eyes on the black and white checkered ball. Kaylan kicked it to Sophia. The other team tried to intercept, but Reuben wouldn’t have it. He ran in front of Sophia, blocking any other child who came close. She stumbled on her dress as she ran, her five-year-old legs pumping as fast as they could. Children across the field shouted encouragement, and teens emerged from the homes to cheer.
As the ball bounced off a tree and feebly rolled through the goal, Kaylan shouted. She called for Sarah Beth as some of the seminary students took their place on the field. “I have an idea.”
“It’s about time.” Sarah Beth smirked. “I could hear you thinking from across the field.”
“Very funny.” She shoved her friend. “Listen, I’d like to host a class for young mothers to teach them how to feed their families. Maybe we could even make them a meal to take home at the end of the meeting. We could ask for sponsorship from someone at church back home.”
Her mind jumped from one possibility to the next. She could do this. She could help Tasha and little Reuben and Sophia. Only Jesus could fix Haiti, but she could give hope by pointing them to Him. The idea grew in her head and took root. She officially had a purpose.
“Done and done.” Sarah Beth clapped. “I’m proud of you, Kayles. Let’s do it.” Sarah Beth held her hand out. “Go team, on three?”
Kaylan laughed. “You are such a kid sometimes.”
“Guilty. Twenty-two going on ten.” As Sarah Beth placed her hands over Kaylan’s, dark hands of all sizes slowly covered their pale skin. Children giggled, fascinated with the new game, and the lanky teens matched their enthusiasm.
Sarah Beth counted in Creole, “One, two, three, go team!” The girls threw their hands in the air, eliciting cheers and clapping from their loyal crowd.
The sun began to set, and Kaylan knew it was time to leave the streets. She had plans to make, and the soccer game had been a success with the children.
As they walked to Rhonda’s, Reuben ran to them, dragging a boy of fifteen or sixteen bearing similar features. Abraham joined them to translate.
“This is Reuben’s brother, Stevenson. He trains with Eliezer, the local houngan, voodoo priest.” Abraham’s eyes darkened. “Reuben is proud because Stevenson is training with Eliezer to read palms so he can make money from the tourists. Most of those in this slum who practice voodoo follow Eliezer. The temple is close by.” Abraham shook his head.
Kaylan’s heart went out to the youth. “It’s nice to meet you, Stevenson.”
“I speak English.” His accent was thick as he carefully formed each word.
“Very good. Where did you learn English?”
“Only little. Eliezer teach me for tourists.”
Kaylan nodded. She used her hands as she spoke. “Reuben said you read palms.”
He held his palms up and nodded. “I tell you future?”
She shook her head and smiled, hoping he wouldn’t be offended. “Only Jesus knows my future.” She grasped his hands and used one finger to press down in the middle of his palm. “His palms bled to give me a future because He loved me.” Stevenson cocked his head in confusion.
His eyes grew big as Abe translated. “Jesus love palms? Tell future?”
“Yes, Stevenson. Only Jesus knows future.”
“Tell me.” He put his palms on his chest and leaned toward her, then froze and backed away quickly. Sarah Beth appeared at her side, and Kaylan turned to face a skinny man towering over her. His head was shaved, and above distinguished cheekbones his eyes were those of a dead man. Despite its dingy hue, his button-down shirt set him above the rest of the men, speaking of his concern with his appearance. His khakis had dark stains on both knees, and he wore sandals.
His face remained emotionless, but his mouth spewed venom. “Do not talk to him about this Jesus. He is in training. The spirits show us the future. Our ancestors call to us.”
Abraham stood calmly beside her. “Eliezer, this is Kaylan and Sarah Beth. They are from America and want to help our country.”
He nodded slowly, and a glimmer of a smile touched his mouth. “Then we will both help Haiti. But do not speak of Jesus to my student.” Motioning to the young man, Eliezer faded back among the homes.
Abraham shook his head again. “He will cause trouble.”
“Why? Maybe we can help improve things just a little bit.” Sarah Beth’s enthusiasm triggered a small smile from Abraham.
“You do not understand. Eliezer is one of the extreme voodoo priests in Haiti. He believes that all of Haiti’s problems can be traced back in our history to the white man.”
The idea sounded antiquated to Kaylan. “How’s that, Abe?”
“Many years ago, Haitians were slaves on our own island until an uprising overturned the white man’s rule. Eliezer is under the impression that Haiti would thrive if all white men would leave Haiti, particularly Americans, and especially Christians. He thinks the Christian faith ruins our ancestral, African tribal roots.”
“Well, that’s a little extreme and outdated, isn’t it? I mean, all that happened a long time ago.” Kaylan waved at the woman on the corner painting in the market as they walked the few blocks to Rhonda’s house.
“Eliezer thinks his way is best. You need to understand how he thinks in order to share Jesus with him or those he influences. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Abraham left them at the corner with high-fives.
Sarah Beth and Kaylan walked in silence the last block to Rhonda’s house, Kaylan praying for wisdom. She never dreamed she would face a real voodoo priest in Haiti, and his warnings against talking about Jesus had both chilled and angered her. She was glad that his fate was not her ultimate responsibility. For only the Lord could change the heart of a man like Eliezer.