Yesterday was Palm Sunday, and this is how we celebrated.

We drove up to the Ackerman’s home, perched on a beautiful lookout over Port-au-Prince. So, our "Pub Church" has recently become mobile, and we are now "Pub-less." Since our pastor moved his business out of his previous business complex (which included the remains of an Irish Pub and also a courtyard for us to gather on Sunday mornings - hence our name "Pub church"), we have shifted between different meeting spots in peoples’ homes or in the beauty of nature.

At the Ackerman’s, we grabbed our mugs of coffee, and ingeniously situated the large palm fronds that we chopped from our front yard that morning and hauled up the mountain in the back of our pick-up. The service began.

Beautiful hymns, followed by an amazing, sort-of 3D flannel-graph display of Jesus’ entry to Jerusalem and re-telling of the story by Jodi herself.

We talked about the Sermon on the Mount; we talked about Jesus being the fulfillment of the Old Testament, a mission that was completed, was "finished" at the moment of his death on the cross. 

We discussed being the Salt – flavor - of the earth.

And then we dug in to some Indian food which was also delicious (just the right amount of salt), in celebration of a birthday.

So, palm fronds, birthdays, Sermon on the Mount: this completed our Palm Sunday celebrations.

Our pastor fighting with the giant palm branch we posted
behind his chair.

A forgotten epidemic

Images of Renette Viergélan (far right) and other cholera victims were put on display across from U.N. headquarters in New York during General Assembly meetings in October 2015. Photo credit: New Media Advocacy Project.

By Katharine Oswald (as posted on Third Way.)

Haiti is home to the world’s worst cholera epidemic today. The outbreak was instigated in 2010, unknowingly, by United Nations (U.N.) peacekeepers. Five years later, Haitians are still waiting for an adequate response to this disaster.

I sat beneath an almond tree in Poirée, a rice-planting village on the outskirts of St. Marc, in northwestern Haiti. Though 40 townspeople formed a tight circle around my makeshift interview station, my attention was focused on the slight woman seated across from me.

“Did you contract cholera?” I asked her.

“Yes.”

“Did anyone else in your family contract it?”

A pause. Her eyes darted from my own to the ground beneath us. Then Renette launched into her story: “My name is Renette Viergélan. I am 31 years old. In 2010, I was struck by cholera. While I was in the hospital, my baby also became sick with cholera. Before I regained consciousness, he had died.”

Renette has two surviving children, but she admitted her thoughts are ‘’consumed by the memory of [her] baby.’’ With her town’s continued reliance on river water and poor access to medical care, she is afraid she or her children will contract the disease again.

It was September 2015, and I was interviewing cholera victims and their families as part of the Face | Justice campaign, which commemorated the five-year anniversary of cholera’s infamous introduction to Haiti. The campaign showcased images and testimonies of those affected by cholera at the U.N. in New York, Port-au-Prince and Geneva.

The pain wrought by cholera in Haiti is evident in individual stories like Renette’s. Yet the scale of the devastation is not grasped until one confronts the numbers – cholera has killed 8,987 Haitians and infected over 762,000. Joseph, a young man in a neighboring village, shared bluntly, “Every family in my community has lost something…because of cholera.’’

Cholera was unknown in Haiti before 2010. It travelled here through the unlikeliest of sources. Nepalese troops with MINUSTAH, the U.N.’s peacekeeping mission in Haiti, were stationed at a base near Haiti’s main river, the Artibonite. Sewage from the base, contaminated with a particular strand of cholera endemic to Nepal, leaked into the river when it was negligently disposed of by a U.N. contractor.

The disease quickly spread to all corners of the country. After a gradual reduction in infection rates over the past three years, new cases are now on the rise. It appears that cholera is in Haiti to stay.

The U.N.’s role in creating this humanitarian disaster is now undeniable, yet it still has not accepted responsibility for its actions. Instead it has developed a sweeping Cholera Elimination Plan–which is only 18 percent funded after five years of fundraising efforts. As a key decision-maker within the U.N. system, the U.S. government should use its unique position to help fund the Plan and encourage the U.N. to publicly acknowledge its negligence.

With such a poor international response, and the Haitian government reticent to make demands of the U.N., victims’ hope for remedies have waned. However, the people we spoke with are clear: they want their pain to be acknowledged; they want better lives for their communities; they want international donors to live up to their humanitarian principles; and they want the U.N. to finally face justice.

To read more stories collected by the Face | Justice campaign, visit www.facejustice.com.

The Colonial District, Day Two

Day Two of touring in the Colonial District held as many pleasures as the first. Yes, the downpour of rain came again, but we were prepared this time! Hours of relaxing and sipping good coffee were already scheduled into our day before the wetness began :)

After dining on a charming plaza (the one filled with pigeons across from the Catedral Primada de America), we headed straight for the two museums remaining on our bucket list for the trip. We were ready to hit the history-hunting straight away!

The Ozama Fortress, built by the Spanish in the 16th century to keep the French and English at bay, looms large over the old city wall, facing out to the Ozama River and the Caribbean sea. Disturbingly, the fortress was used in recent history by the 20th century dictator Trujillo, mostly to jail and torture his political prisoners. :( We dropped the six bucks or so for a brief guided tour, definitely worth it as nothing at all was marked.

Next up, the much talked about Museo de las Casas Reales. It houses quite a random collection of historical artifacts (mostly old furniture), plus some brief history of the early Spanish colonization of Hispaniola. I was always wanting the audio guide to go a little further. ''This room features a very rare and important Renaissance-style wood carving of the Virgin Mary and the twelve disciples.'' Aaaand, that would conclude the description of the entire room. More context, please?! It's okay; I got over it :)

This museum was once the home of Diego Colón, Chris' son (yes, he also lived in the Alcazar de Colon, which we visited the day before.) In the century, the dictator Trujillo set up shop and ran the country from this historic site. (That guy liked hearkening back to the D.R.'s colonial history, didn't he?) The museum is now home to... these beautiful peacocks! Who enjoy strutting around the cobblestone courtyard.

Strike a pose.

 

I enjoyed capturing the beautiful flourishes of Spanish colonial architecture surrounding this museum, as well as the small charms of the streets on my Instagram throughout the trip.

Lunch was had at a snazzy outdoor cafe type of place (called Zona Zuna or something like it), where we indulged in... you won't believe it... nachos and tacos! They were divine, I'm tellin' ya.

In the afternoon, we explored the city a bit by car. Our attempt to find a park entrance that would lead us to some moderately well-reviewed ancient caves had us driving in circles for a bit, with no eventual success. Perhaps the most interesting site we ''bumped into'' on our trek was this church, Santa Barbara's.

There were actually old churches tucked away in every corner of this district!

After the fun drive, we fit in some napping, some coffee-sipping, and then back to dine at the restaurant where we started the day! Why not? All in all, I couldn't have asked for a more chill, culturally informative, and historically pleasing couple of days. We look forward to exploring other bits of the country!

Haiti Is...

Have we not shared with you this incredible song about all the lovely things contained in Haiti?

It's called ''Ayiti Se'' (Haiti Is),  and we have posted the English lyrics below. It's by the Haitian artist Mikaben. It's a great chance to hear some Kreyòl too. Enjoy!

Haiti is a pretty sea, a stunning mountain with beautiful rivers
It's pretty beaches with coconut trees, lovely landscapes with bright colors
Haiti is the smell of coffee that climbs up my nostrils at dawn
It's the scent of dew drops that's set for the budding of 10 o'clock flowers in the morning
Haiti is Bassin Bleu, the Pichon waterfalls along with Saut D'eau
It's the Arcadins isles, the Citadelle fort, it's Labadie and Marigot
Haiti is La Valée, Macaya's Peak, Marmelade and Pilboreau mountains

Haiti is dous makòs, it's a handful of grilled peanuts
It's a creamy smoothie that gives energy, it's an enticing bottle of ice cola
Haiti is some appetizing fried pork, it's a delicious fritter, some tasty fried goat
It's a delicious vegetable stew laden with crabs, it's flavorful rice with country greens
Haiti is a scrumptious broth, a pumpkin soup well-seasoned with bell peppers
It's mouthwatering cassava with peanut butter
That you dip in a corn shake
Haiti is a a dumpling that you marinate in bean sauce
It's pig woods, some good liquor
Haiti is the divine coffee that you drink at night

Chorus:
Precious Haiti, as much as I love you
I've come to put my heart in your hands
Haiti dear, as much as I adore you
Nothing will let me let go of you (x2)

Haiti is beautiful music, a street music band parade, a troubadour
It's a ceremony, a calabash dish, and a drum
Haiti is Ogou's land, the land our ancestors left for us
It's where slavery was abolished, it's the land of the free and the land of voudou
Haiti is festivals, it's night parties, it's ritual dances of Chanpetre
It's dancing and fun at Carnaval, it's a little island that never sleeps
Haiti is a game of dominoes, it's a winning hand of dice and cards
It's a Christmas Eve party with some good broth that keeps you awake

Haiti is a collective of farmers who get together to work the land
It's the women street vendors descending into the city
To go fight the hard life head to head
Haiti is a little kid that's dreaming of a bright future
It's the dirty water from sewer streams that doesn't quite know where it's going
Haiti is being under the tent since January 12th
It's mud on the levees that gives off a foul smell every time it rains
Haiti is the ground that knows true realities
It's a sad one, but by God's grace, it's not the only one that we can sing.

Chorus

Haiti is a mother that knows the meaning of pain
Who stands strong and tall, who's brave - even though she's aware that she's far from perfect
Haiti is a beautiful woman who's been through a lot
But who cleans up nicely so that her kids can walk with their heads up - proud
Haiti, it's all these things that make us love you
Even if the road is long, I know that we'll always be here to hold your hand
Haiti dear, believe me
Nothing will ever make me leave you
Let this song right here serenade you

Translation compliments of kreyolicious (with some minor changes)

Our first Escapades into the Dominican Republic

Our trip to the D.R. last week exposed us to a whole new world that is just a few hours away from us, across the border that separates these two different but forever linked countries that share the island of Hispaniola.

We traveled with MCC companions to meet with Mennonite pastors in the eastern town of Padre Las Casas and in the capitol of Santo Domingo, then Ted and I had two and a half full days to explore the finer parts of the city together. Rain and grey skies aside, it was a wonderful and relaxing dip into history, plus a cool cultural experience for us both!

First, we got to experience the Old World meets New World fusion in the architecture of the Catedral Primada de America, the oldest church in the New World that is still in use. The cathedral is parked right in Parque Colon, so named for Christopher Columbus (who is really Cristóbal Colón in Spanish.)

Though Columbus first landed in the north and western parts of the island, he set up shop in several spots in Haiti and the D.R., and Santo Domingo became the seat from which Spain governed all of its holds in the New World.

One major difference between Haiti and the D.R. is in the way they appreciate their histories. In Santo Domingo, Colombus' stamp was seen everywhere. From this park (above), to the ancient residences of his family members, which are now preserved and showcased as historical attractions, Dominican tourism draws heavily on this aspect of the island's history. Whereas in Haiti, colonial era history is scarcely preserved and Colombus is more likely to be despised for the era of exploitation he introduced. 

As much as the historian in me would be fascinated to explore a replica of a colonial era plantation or town in Haiti, none of this was preserved after the Haitian Revolution. Nor can I see that type of preservation taking place for touristic benefits. All plantations were purposefully razed to the ground by newly freed Haitians, who did not want such bold symbols of colonial power and human suffering to remain in their midst.

Next up, we visited this beautiful monastery, Convento de los Dominicos, made famous by Fray Bartolomé de las Casas. Las Casas was the Dominican friar who wrote extensively in defense of the native peoples in the Americas and was even named the first ''Protector of the Indians" by Spain. He wrote many of his famous works from this very church. This name from the history books came alive for me as we strolled along the pews, which were filled with newly initiated nuns and friars by the way! It was great to see such a noble figure from history honored in the city (a little break from all the Columbus fever around town.)

Dominicans are very proud of their history and revere their leaders who fought for independence, first from Spain in 1822 and then from Haiti. This is something the D.R. and Haiti seem to have in common. Their struggles for independence loom large in their current imaginations. The heroes of Haitian independence - Louverture, Dessalines, Petion  - are invoked with passion in electoral campaigns today. I had a Dominican pastor share with me in a I-hope-you-already-knew-this tone, ''you know, Dominicans fought for their independence from Haiti, not Spain." I got the sense this wasn't ancient history for many Dominicans, much like the American civil war is not ancient history in many parts of the U.S. 

At the Pantheon, the remains of some of these prominent figures from Dominican history are interned and guarded. Visitors keep a church-like silence.

Lunchtime showers had us scrambling inside for a quiet meal, as we listened to the increasingly dramatic rainfall splatter across the roof of our quaint but chic stone-walled restaurant. Instead of calling it a day and crawling back to our hotel room for loooong afternoon naps, we continued the sight-seeing once the rain subsided.

Behold! 

The final site of our tourism adventures of the day. The grey clouds rolled in once again (we could have sworn they were gone!) Ted ran across this plaza in the pouring rain, with our admission tickets in hand for the Alcazar de Colon. Diego Colon, Columbus' son, lived here at one time. Destroyed over the years but restored in the 20th century to be used as a museum, this site was fun to walk through, and even more fun to be stranded in for a bit by the rain. 

Waiting out the storm in my colonial-era perch.

Once the rain broke (for about 2 minutes), we ran across the plaza again, to sit at a renowned restaurant. Sure we had hoped to ''spruce up'' for the event, but our Tevas and Chacos had to do! We took our time, enjoying a meal that started at about 5:15pm, a little earlier than anticipated. :)

Vine-Living

The words pour over me like they haven't in a long time. I am the vine, you are the branches... Our oneness with Christ, His desire to Abide with us. We're finicky dance partners, aren't we? I'm always wanting to change the tune we're dancing to, or escape into the corner to hang out by the punch bowl, leaving my partner awkwardly alone.

John 15

The words soak in, barely reaching below the surface, but I am already transfixed, and amazed by His love. Ted read the words out loud, and we prayed to start the work day, the fourth day in a week that has felt particularly scarce. The desert has been moving in around me with me hardly noticing.

For over two weeks I haven't been feeling well. This has meant two visits to two different doctors, each visit requiring online research and asking friends and colleagues for referrals. After each doctor visit, a lab visit - one trip to get the tests done, and then another to pick up the results - often in traffic-choked parts of town. The symptoms have come and gone - I'm actually feeling on the mend now - but the process has been tiring and time-sucking.

''...every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful." The Lord is our doctor. As Ted and I prayed, the parallels and juxtaposition came clear. I have needed doctors these past two weeks, ones to help sort out the meaning behind my symptoms and prescribe treatment. One doctor was good, another was not-so-good. In the same way that my physical condition has needed a diagnosis, so has my spiritual condition needed one.

I'm reminded of a sermon I heard at our Philadelphia church over a year ago, where the preacher, Barb, talked about how we don't understand our needs; we need a doctor who can discern that for us. She was sure that her eyeglass prescription should be one way, but her eye doctor discovered it needed to be another. The same goes for our hearts and our spirits.

Christ is our tender, caring doctor. I don't need to drive across town to meet with him; write out checks awkwardly in French, navigate testing procedures that aren't what I'm used to. Nor do I need to wonder about His competence or reliability. He is perfect, always there.

My abiding and walking with Christ also isn't a ''doctor visit'' - a one stop appointment to get a prescription and then go on my way. Instead, He's our 24/7 doctor, always there to heal, to care, to ''diagnose.'' He is truly good.

He is the Doctor that I want.

''If a man remains in me and I in Him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.'' Do we do the work, or do we just get to be a part of His work and enjoy the ride? This is a tricky one that affects my day to day and my posture towards my work and everything. It feels like a subtle difference at times, because He asks us to go out and actively love and bless others, to be salt and light in this crazy world. But Christ starts out this passage, "... my Father is the gardener."

Apart from Him, we can do nothing. Who is the Potter; who is the Shepard, who is our Life Source? It's all Him.

Prayers of compassion

During our regular staff devotions this morning, our time of communal prayer turned into wider prayers for the country of Haiti: for good leadership to emerge, for wisdom; prayers for all the people who are suffering and frustrated with how their country does or doesn't work.

Staff also had personal pains to share; children who are ill. I'm recovering from some unknown sickness that's had be down for the past couple of days. 

But after that prayer time ended, we had prepared a time of prayer for Haiti's cholera victims, who are ever growing in number. This week marks five years since cholera was introduced to Haiti by UN peacekeepers from Nepal. The UN will still not acknowledge its role in creating this epidemic which has infected close to 800,000 people.

Now, if I were in the shoes of some of my colleagues at that moment, I think my wells of compassion may have already been spent. With thoughts of poor governance in my country, and personal woes weighing heavily on me, I'd be tempted to think, ''oh, more people to pray for? What about the pain I'm already feeling?"

Instead, the prayers came forth. Prayers for victims like Renette, Olivia, and Cadet, who we are sharing about in a cholera campaign that will be launched this week. It seemed the wells of compassion from our team had not run dry at all; instead, they spread to cover all those who are suffering, everyone who has experienced loss.

It's true that our blog hasn't been very centered on personal Oswald updates of late. It's been a bit more about ''pray for this! learn about this issue!" And we love receiving those prayers. Last week, the connection between Sabbath rest and reflection and writing was made apparent to me. The fact that I haven't written in my journal or blogged much of late is one indicator that this past season hasn't included much Sabbath rest. (And by 'Sabbath rest,' I don't just mean not working on Sundays. I'm referring to good, soul-centering, control-relinquishing rest where you feel God doing what He wants to do in your spirit.) As we enter into a new season (Fall) and closer to Advent, my hope is that we will make more time for this rest.