Since my novitiate year in Missionhurst-CICM, I had already set my eyes on Haiti. There is something about this Caribbean island that enticed me to do my mission here. Knowing that this country has the current distinction of being the poorest country in the Americas, and one of the poorest in the world, I prepared myself for the difficulties that I might encounter along the way. But, as the journey continues, there are always surprises in store for me—far more than I could ever have imagined.
Before being assigned to a parish where other CICM confreres are working, I was given the opportunity to live with a Haitian family. It was part of my internship experience, living with them in order to learn the socio-economic and religious context of the Haitian people. I was then sent to Oriani: a mountainous village some three hours southeast of Haiti's capital, Port-au-Prince. It was there that both my feet and my faith were first tested in the Haitian soil.
I arrived in Oriani in March of last year. The members of the Regis family welcomed me in their humble abode. Mr. Bruno Regis was my “foster father” during my entire stay. Being in a farming village, I learned how to till the arid soil and plant vegetables in the garden. This is where I started to discover the sufferings of the people, and the wounds that they carry along with them. These wounds are evident in their economic, physical, and spiritual plight.
Economically, they are at the mercy of land and the rain. The farmland has no proper irrigation systems. People have to rely on the seasonal rains for their seeds to germinate and produce crops. Although the seeds had already been sown, and the garden plots prepared, the “floodgates of heaven” did not open during my stay. To make matters worse, there are many children of the village who do not to go to school, opting to work in the garden instead. This is their only way to help bring food to the table. They find work more valuable than their education. They earn as little as 20 Gourdes (equal to less than 50 cents in US$) per day, working under the searing heat of the sun.
In terms of their health conditions, I became aware of the medical needs of the people by visiting one of the village’s clinics. The clinic is maintained by Sr. Mary Ann de la Cruz, a Filipina Saint Paul de Chartes sister. As a general practitioner, her expertise in the field of medicine has helped the people of Oriani for almost a decade now. Since there are only two clinics functioning in the area, many patients from the village and from other neighboring villages brave the scorching heat and rocky roads to come here for consultation. Some people living in far flung areas are known to trek an astounding six hours in order to get to the clinic and back to their homes in the same day. The clinic has the most patients on Mondays and Thursdays, since these are the market days of the village. After selling their produce, the vendors can then afford the nominal fee for consultations or medicines. Patients come to the clinic for a variety of reasons. Some want to see the doctor for a regular check-up, like the pregnant women in the area, while others need immediate medical attention because of injuries—burns and hatchet or other tool injuries being commonplace. Additionally, regular health issues include high blood pressure, diabetes, and gastro-intestinal problems.
In my desire to be of service, I acted as Sr. Mary Ann’s assistant on market days. I was the initial contact with the patients, asking them about their health problems and recording pertinent information for Sr. Mary Ann to diagnose and treat them. I also performed blood pressure and temperature readings. Sometimes I would help to explain medicines and the proper dosage to the patients. There are times when I would check an infant’s heart rate, and I would recall God’s words in the book of the prophet Jeremiah: “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations.” (Jer. 1:5). That reflection made me feel that each child born is still a sign of hope for this country.
During other occasions working for the clinic, we did home visitations to attend to bedridden patients. We checked on their vital signs and gave medication when needed. During those visits, Sr. Mary Ann and I would pray with them. In doing so, we hoped to also fill their spiritual wellness and hunger for our Lord Jesus Christ. Hearing that they improved or became well was enough recompense for the job and all the walking that we did.
Our stories of medical mission do not always end the way we expected. One example that comes to mind is my encounter with Madame Marie Benisse. She is a woman who lived on the other side of the mountain, about an hour and a half walk from the village. On the second Sunday of my stay, Madame Benisse’s husband came to the clinic after Mass to inform us that, at any moment, his wife would die. With some of the villagers leading us, we climbed the mountain that afternoon, to get to their house and to see what we could still do. We found her being carried and laid on a mat outside their home, which reminded me of the friends of the paralytic man who: “Unable to get near Jesus because of the crowd, they opened up the roof above him… (and) let down the mat on which the paralytic was lying.” (Mark 2:4) In her case there was no roof to break through, but a time to beat since, according to Sr. Mary Ann, Madame Benisse was suffering from a throat tumor and needed our medical and spiritual attention. In this culture, being carried outside the house is a sign that the person is in moribund stage.
We talked to her and prayed over her. Then, we carried her back to the house and let her take communion, which she gladly received. I acted as an extraordinary minister at that time, because the priest for the area was off at another village. Before we left, Sr. Mary Ann then gave some instructions on what to do to alleviate her pain. I promised her that I would come back before the end of my stay in Oriani. She replied in a very soft voice that she would wait for me.
There is a Haitian proverb, “Pwomes se det.” It translates as, “Promise is a debt.” Hence, on Palm Sunday, my last Sunday in Oriani, I made it a point to pay my debt. It was getting dark when we finished our church activities in the village, but I told Sr. Mary Ann and Mr. Regis that I would still go and visit Madame Benisse, knowing that it would be the last time that I would see her. I was accompanied by Mr. Regis’ cousin, Philip, so that I would not get lost along the way. When I arrived I saw her deteriorating condition, but I am still glad that I saw her alive. She had kept her half of the promise as well.
We talked for some time, and I shared with her about Holy Week, which was just beginning. I spoke to her from the words in 1Peter, telling her that through the wounds of our Lord Jesus Christ, we are also healed. I prayed over her and gave her the Eucharist, not realizing that God had made me an instrument for bringing Him to her in her last moments here on earth.
I left Oriani on Holy Tuesday, to celebrate the rest of the Holy Week activities in the capital. On Good Friday, I received the news that Madame Benisse had passed away. Needless to say, the occasion of her death coincided with our commemoration of the death of Our Lord. As she shared in His suffering, I believe she also now shares in His Glory in the Kingdom, where she will never experience pain again.
I continue to journey with the people of Haiti, now serving in the parish of Notre Dame de la Nativité (in Mombin Crochu, northeastern region of Haiti). I walk with them in their suffering with the hope that one day their economic, physical, and spiritual wounds will be healed, through the Word of God being realized in their lives. Missionary and community support can be rendered, and I continue to offer myself to God and to the Haitian community in the name of Our Lord Jesus Christ. But the mission can only be accomplished with your prayers and solidarity. Haiti’s wounds can be healed: through both inside and outside interventions. As another Haitian proverb says, “Men anpil, chay pa lou”—“With many hands, the load is not heavy.”
Br. Adrian Louie Z. Atonducan, cicm, is a native of the Philippines who joined Missionhurst-CICM in 2004. After studies in the Philippines, he began his internship in Haiti in 2013. He is currently completing his internship at Notre Dame de la Nativité parish, Mombin Crochu in the diocese of Fort Liberté.
