11 PM - Christal Earle’s Blog

I had seen him around the garbage dump for the past 2 years, but not thought much of it. There are a lot of faces that I see here every day that I come out to this place that has come to be a place of understanding, compassion, and friendship. Today, I saw past his scars on his eyes, past the sweat and grime, and heard the voice of the man who has impacted my life.

We pulled into the garbage dump with our team and were blown away by how much smoke there was; they were burning it off (no points for environmental friendliness there!) and wouldn’t officially allow any workers in. The dump here is huge and covers many acres of land. Normally there are about 50-60 workers picking bottles, scrounging for food and clothes, and just trying to survive. However, today, there were quietly about 7 men working behind one of the hills when we finally found them. Luke looked up from his work of trying to find some food for his family and waved when he saw me. He walked over and kissed me on the cheek. I asked him what was going on and he told me they were the only ones working today, as the rest were too scared to come for fear of the police being upset with them for being there and them being deported. Luke explained to us what that could look like for them: being immediately taken to the border and dumped off without anything to get you anywhere. Did I happen to mention that Luke himself has been here in Dominican Republic for 25 years, but because he is stateless, he has no protection for him or his family? The world can deny his existence, but after this, we know the truth.

Luke was a wealth of understanding for us as we sat on that hill and allowed understanding to direct our compassion, and today, in the middle of the stench of the garbage and the buzzing of the flies, Luke was our motivational speaker.

He spoke to us of what it is like to dream of educating your children, of being able to provide for your family, of feeling like you belong. He spoke to us of dreaming about the ability to afford simple necessities and of being treated as an equal. And then, Luke spoke to our hearts, as he told us that there is something different about the Hero Holiday groups that come out to this desolate garbage dump: they work alongside of them, and they make them feel valuable. He turned to me and told me that the workers at this garbage dump have come to value what we do to help them, and they trust us and want to welcome us into their world. Without knowing it, Luke spoke to the deep place in us that can often wonder if we are doing enough or if we are making any difference for them, and he reminded us that we have allowed them to know that they matter. Though the world may not know they exist, in our hearts and memories they are now a face, a smile, a hand stretched out to be embraced, and a dream to be cherished with hope for a better future.

Luke, the 34 year stateless Haitian man at the garbage dump has become my newest favorite motivational speaker. As I work alongside of him and the other 50+ people from his village at this garbage dump, I can only hope to make a difference, and today, Luke taught me that it starts with this simple kindness.

Thank you, Luke. I don’t know if you can even read or write, and I know you will never have the chance to read this brief tribute to who you are, but you have touched my life and sharpened my focus. You have allowed me the privilege to hear your story, and every day that I see you when I bring out the teams, I see your shy smile and am reminded of the depth of character that lies beneath.

I, too, believe in your dreams for a better tomorrow, and like you, I hope to see you succeed in all that you put your hands to. Your dreams deserve to be heard because you exist in our world, and we want to hear your voice.

There are many days in your life when you go through a routine: you get up, stumble through your morning, and get off to work, etc. Friday was not one of those days. I am here in Dominican Republic for the fourth year of Hero Holiday, and yet again, my heart has been touched and my understanding has been challenged. This year I am again taking groups of students out to the local garbage dump, where about 75 people, who are now my friends, work and spend their day trying to eek out a living by gathering the food, collecting the bottles for money, and even finding shoes and clothes. They make less than a dollar a day, and many of them are single parents, supporting many hungry children. It is in this place that we have discovered many profound lessons: we have seen the pain of poverty, felt the hurt of injustice, and experienced the anger that comes when you see your friends hurting and exploited.
As our truck pulled up, my anxious Hero Holidayers’ weren’t quite sure what to expect. We were coming out to help the workers collect bottles so that they can generate more income, but would they accept us? Would we offend them? Would we help them or get in their way? In my mind were different questions: Would it still be the same people there? And if they were, I couldn’t decide whether to just be happy to see them again, or sad that this is where they still were, and in the world in which we find ourselves the answers are not so clear.
This garbage dump is a harsh take on reality at the best of times, and in that place, I met new faces and reunited with familiar ones, and chose to just be glad to be among them and do what I could with what I had. Some people are here because they can’t even survive in Haiti-they literally have nothing but what they are wearing, and to them, they can’t understand why people like us would want to take the time to come to people like them.
But, as I watched these incredible Canadian youth that came with me that day, I was once again in awe of the beauty of compassion and solidarity. They eagerly approached the people and asked them if they could help them collect bottles, and began to spread out through the garbage dump. Through the haze and heat I could see them: side by side with the people, Nikes beside unmatched and torn shoes, gloved hands beside worn and scarred hands, eager smile reaching out to shy, bashful smile…and it was a thing of beauty.
As we later talked about the experience, there were tears and laughter as we recalled how this day helped to shift our focus and cause us to see fulfillment in a different light: the feeling of collecting enough bottles to help a single mom double her income that day, the exhilaration of being able to communicate with someone despite the language barrier, and most of all, the understanding that comes from walking in someone else’s shoes.