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Writer's pictureChelsea Wiersma

The time I lived in a rural village in the mountains of Haiti...


*** I have changed the names in this story for privacy purposes***


In my second year of college, I found an organization in Haiti that needed a school teacher for two months r at their bible school. I knew nothing about the organization but I applied for the job and was accepted. My friend from college, Brian, was also traveling to Haiti during that time, so we arranged to fly there together so that he could escort me to my job in mountain school.


The village that this job offer was in was a small rural town called “Lebrun”, and to this day I still haven't met another Haitian who’s ever heard of of the town of Lebrun. We took 3 buses, two taxis, a motorcycle, and a donkey to get to there. There wasn’t even an actual road to Lebrun. It was a small dirt road that was only accessible by donkey. We tried to take a moto taxi, but the road was so horrible that the taxi kept falling over. We had one pretty bad tumble that I still have a scar on my knee from. After getting in the moto accident, Brian wrapped my leg in gauze, paid a guy on the street to let us borrow his donkey, and I sat on the donkey with my leg all wrapped up while Brian walked in front of me. It was an hour-long donkey ride up the mountain until we finally reached this little mountain town. The town was almost non-existent. There were small mud houses and some people selling fruits on the street and a water spigot in the center of town where people were collecting water. We had no idea where we were going because the organization I had arranged this through had completely stopped answering my messages. Part of the agreement was that they would provide food and housing, but we had no idea where the house was. 


We were walking through the small village (me on the donkey and Brian walking in front) when all of a sudden we saw a wide-eyed Mexican man yelling at us. “Whatttt how did you get here?? Who are you??” He could not believe his eyes that he was seeing a young blonde girl arriving in this village on a donkey. I explained to him about the organization that I was looking for and, come to find out he worked with that organization too. “Come with me I will show you the house.” He directed us into a small cement two-bedroom house. There was another girl in the house- Carmen. She was a small, skinny, beautiful Mexican girl with big curly hair, and perfect skin, who offered the warmest hug. She also had a small scraggly, looking dog that followed her around. Carmen and Marco invited us in and made us something to eat.


It turned out that they were both here to work for the same school- which was not actually run by an organization. It was run by one woman who lived in Washington DC and arranged everything online but never actually came to Haiti or to the village. So basically, the organization that I thought I had come to work for was non-existent. 


“There is no way I’m leaving you here,” Brian said. But I was stubborn, independent, and had something to prove- much like I still do now. I assured Brian that I would be OK because I had Carmen and Marco. 


After a few days in Lebrun, I soon learned how Carmen was so skinny. Every morning we hiked 3 miles up the mountain to the top of the hill where she was building clay houses for the women in the village and creating a sewing program for them. On the weekends, we would teach English and hygiene classes at the little outdoor school in the village. I don’t know how I did any of this because I did not speak any Creole at the time, but somehow I learned just enough words to get by and I learned more and more every day from the kids at the school. 


After two about two weeks there, Carmen and Marco left to go back to Mexico, so I was alone in the house. I had no wifi, and the pipes had burst and flooded the living room so I also had no running water. The meals and drinking water that I had been promised with the job offer also never came through. I used what little cash I had to buy fruits and veggies from the farmer next door and I got water from the town spigot which I boiled to drink. I’m still not sure how I didn’t get sick from drinking the water, I think I had an angel protecting me. 


Eventually, I ran out of money. There was a big jar of oats in the house which was also filled with crawling ants and there was also a jar of Nutella. So every day I would boil the oats and live ants and just eat oatmeal with dead ants and a scoop of Nutella.


I befriended a teenage boy in the town named Roman who spoke a tiny bit of English and slept on the roof of my house with a machete to protect me. He said that the town was not safe and that I should not be here alone, but if I insisted on staying, I should at least let him protect me. Roman was kind-hearted and he did protect me. He also taught me a lot of Creole. The first Creole word I remember learning from him was "water" or “dlo”.


After one month in this village and two weeks completely alone ( besides my broken conversations with Roman) I became so lonely that I was starting to lose my mind. I had a little pay phone that Brian had given me and I went on the roof (because that was the only spot I could get one bar of signal) and called my mom crying. Of course, she wasn't able to calm me down.


After crying to my mom, I hung up the phone, admitted my defeat, and sent Brian a text, “Please come and get me out of here.” Then I laid on the roof and looked at the stars for the rest of the night.


In the morning I got a text from Brian saying that he was on his way to get me. That evening he showed up in a car with a driver. I felt sad to leave Lebrun, like I was giving up, but I also felt a wave of relief seeing Brian. I said goodbye to Roman and went on my way, in this giant robust vehicle with huge 4-wheeling wheels. They took me to the town of Jacmel where Brian had been staying for work, and I stayed in a really nice hotel room. We had a big oceanfront dinner, I slept alone in a huge comfy king-sized bed with air conditioning, and had some of the best coffee of my life in the morning.


To be continued in my book... shoutout to Brian for saving me that day.


Here is a photo of me with Carmen's scraggly-looking dog. I loved him.


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