The Time Is Now

“No,” my father snapped at me over the phone. I had called to tell him that I would be going on a service trip to Haiti. “Haiti?! You could get cholera and die, or get kidnapped and die.” He continued his rant, trying to convince me not to go. But, I knew this opportunity was too good to pass up. So, to my father’s disapproval I boarded a plane with a few students from my university.
As the plane descended I eagerly clung to the window, ready to inhale my first view of Haiti. The buildings in the city of Port-au-Prince sharpened into focus. And with a sickening gulp, I realized that they were not buildings—they were tent-like homes with rusty, tin roofs. Poverty. It was devastating to see the calamity of the destruction of houses and trash piled high, littering the streets and polluting rivers. It was a repulsive, strange feeling to be displaced in another world. The next eight days were challenging, but humbling. My mentor once said, “Change happens at the edge of your comfort zone.” And indeed, he was right.
The next day, we volunteered at the local school. Kids of all ages instantly ran up to me and clung to my legs, embracing me as if I were a long-lost friend. I was a little overwhelmed at their unending adoration, but inspired by how happy they were. Despite their poor living conditions and despite going hungry every other day, they were always happy. In that moment, I vowed to focus on enjoying life rather than aspiring for objects.
Another day, we handed out food supplies in a remote village in Haiti. Every so often a child or teenager would forcefully grip my arm and point at my watch. “Give to me,” they would demand in broken English. With a polite smile, I would respond in broken French, “No. I’m sorry.” Their reactions ranged from sadness, to disgust, or despair. One teenager resorted to violence and pulled my hair.
When we got back to our hostel my adviser told me, “Think about it, if you saw a group of strange folks come to your town and pass out their belongings to a few people, wouldn’t you want something? Some of the kids have learned that if they sit back quietly, they usually don’t end up with anything. It’s kind of like our saying, ‘it never hurts to ask.’ ”
Haiti taught me a valuable lesson: the time is now. All the children that asked for my watch had the right mentality. Why not? Why not take a chance? Merci, Haiti. You taught me to take chances and to live in the moment. I will not take that for granted.