The Butterfly

Tired from another day in the hot Haitian sun, I wearily walk back to my house stumbling on the terribly maintained roads. I remember thinking all I wanted was to make it back to my bed so I could visit some naturally gorgeous place in my dreams. Yet as I turn the corner who was there to greet me but a beautiful butterfly dancing happily at my feet. In looking at it, all the rubble around me seemed to dissolve away as the setting sun lit the unsettled dust with a golden glow. I walked the rest of that street with a sense of how much beauty this one butterfly had, examining its multicolored wings and gentle flying pattern. It seemed as if it followed me the entire length of the road before disappearing into the underbrush. As I went to sleep that night, all I only wanted was to dream of walking next to that butterfly again.

The other day I was talking to the Ivens (school principle) and Sussette when Sussette asked Ivons how his day was yesterday. Ivens shook his head saying “not very good” in a way that made me feel as if he had been sick. Sussette asked what went wrong and Ivens explain that his friend Jeff had been murdered the night before and the people in the community called him to identify what was left of the bullet torn body. He told us the story of what had happened saying Jeff wanted everyone in his tap tap (Haitian bus) to pay before going to his or her destination, which is about 10 goud (25 cents). When one of the passengers refused to pay he gave everyone else their money back and stood on the wall deciding where he wanted to drive to next. The man who refused to pay then came up to Jeff, shook him by the shirt, told him he could not tell him what to do, took out a gun and shot him. The crowd then dispersed at the sound of gunfire and the man was never caught. After Ivens had arrived, Jeff’s mother came to the scene and immediately began to scream and convulse on the ground at the sight of her son’s body. Ivens said it was a terrible thing to witness. Jeff leaves behind a wife and newly born child.

Ivens told the story without tears in his eyes and without conviction in his face, yet a sorrow that runs to the depth of his soul. When I replay him telling the story I find thoughts swirling in my head such as: where is justice, where is dignity, where is there a place for a man to earn an honest wage. I want the man to pay for what terrible act he has committed. Why is this man granted life when he takes an honest mans. I want to understand why he would do such a thing so I can in some way forgive him, yet what about the family he leaves behind? What about the little girl who will grow up without a father? Thus, I ask you all a favor, do what I struggle to do; pray for the man who killed Jeff. May he one day realize what he has done and be shone what joy there is in loving others.

In Haiti, sometimes all you can be thankful for are small things, such as a beautiful butterfly. Working at Child Hope I see children being raised to become responsible citizens. I am honored to be a part of each one of these children’s lives and I see a hope for Haiti in their smiles and selflessness. May their dreams be filled with prosperity, love, and a simple butterfly.