Heavy rain. Under a leaky tin roof. Holding a microphone. Connected to an amplifier. Plugged in with exposed wires. To a power strip sitting in a puddle.
I’m keeping a running log of the many ways I’ve almost died in Haiti. Carbon monoxide poisoning as Valentin runs the gas generator inside the kitchen to make a smoothie. Pick axe flying at my groin. Dropping concrete blocks near my head. And many, many more.
I’ve been missing online a lot recently. Rainy season’s begun and there’s seldom electricity when it rains, which has been the story for the last month. I’m pretty sure the absence of electricity is intentional. I haven’t figured out if it’s because these flimsy power lines could break and flail live wires into the infinite puddles or if it’s because nobody can get to work at the power station since tap taps don’t run in the rain. Either way, rain is pretty annoying.
But that’s nothing compared to the misery so many Haitians are experiencing as their tents flood daily. Walking out of the church where I “almost died,” we waded through 18 inches of fast moving water. And that was on a road. I can’t imagine what it’s like in the sunken plots people have settled into with their tents.
Please pray for Haiti.