The Darkest Day

The Darkest Hour

I watched as her head split open. A tiny body with a gaping hole in her head--not something that I thought I would ever have to see there.

It was my favorite place anyhow, Haiti, my heart felt whole there. Whole with a hole. A hole that felt empty; not empty of food or water, not empty of materialistic items such as a car or a phone, empty of true faith in Jesus.

I watch, time after time as I return to Haiti, the devastation that fills the over populated country. But still, through the pain and suffering, they have faith.

It was the second to last day of my trip. The ride up the mountain was long and rigid. We arrived to the small village--Fond Verrette. The people seemed nice, the pastor was kind and spoke good english, but there was a vibe. It was an off vibe and it wasn't obvious, but it was there. After a long, hot day of crafts and games with the children, it was time for snack.

We have one pack of crackers and one bag of water for each child. Likewise, we have one bag of rice and one bottle of oil for each set of parents. This seems generous, but it creates nothing but chaos. My sole job was to help organize the children outside the church while the rest of my team calms the crowd inside.

I bent down. I became eye level with a two foot high beauty; big brown eyes, blue heart-shaped beads in her hair and a denim dress. I recognized her as a girl I had picked up and held just minutes before inside the church. She was maybe two years old--too young to bite off the corner of her water bag. As I grabbed it from her to help, an older boy (maybe 15) ripped her hand from mine, took her crackers from her other hand and turned her around to take her away. This is usual for her. I can tell. She showed no emotion. Until...

He starts to walk away visciously; she can't keep up. She falls, face first, on a ground of jagged rocks. She began screaming--loud. I start to yell at him, sure that he can't understand me, but I yelled. And I yelled. He just drug her away like a rag-doll, face first, on the rocks. I yelled to him that I still had her water in my hand and that he needed to give it to her. He stopped about 15 feet in front of me and turned around. She had time
to stand up then.

All he seemed to be able to say in English was, "She's my sister." He repeated it over and over. A young boy next to me, maybe 7 or 8, so desperate for water reached to my hand and gestured for the small bag that I had. I said, "If you bring that little girl to me, I will give this water to you." That was and will always be the worst lie I have ever told. I knew that little girl needed that water and I was determined to give it to her.

Unfortunately, he believed me and he walked towards the older boy and the young girl and when he was about 3 feet away, the older boy bent down and picked up a softball sized rock. He held it up in the air like he was going to throw it at me. I was ready. But what came next....I can never unsee.

He quickly bashed the rock into the little girls head. Her screams got louder and her cries became more desperate. I just screamed. And cried. And screamed louder. And cried harder. I was in shock and I was surrounded by angry Haitians with no where to run and no one to have my back. I took a few steps towards him and he held the rock up in the air again. I yelled, "No! No! Throw it at me! Hit me!" I pointed to myself and my head as I yelled. He couldn't resist. Possession glazed over his eyes like the devil was in complete control. He took another hard swing at the girl as her head split. Her screams became silent. I was sure she was going to die. I could barely see the deep red blood as it ran down her dark brown cheeks, but I knew it was there and I knew I needed to get that poor child to safety.

The young boy, still desperate for the water reached out and snatched the little girl up and ran her over to me. As soon as she was in my arms I took off in the opposite direction. I sat down on the ground and immediately ripped the water bag open and put it in her mouth. She quickly latched on and took big gulps of the warm water, but she suddenly stopped. A terrified look came upon her. As I looked up, I saw him standing there. He bent down, ripped her out of my arms again, and began to drag her off. It was now out of my control. If she really was his sister, I could not take her from him. I turned around and walked away.

Whether that girl is alive today or not--I will never know.