It was hopeless.  We would never fit in no matter what.  None of us spoke the language, our skin was the wrong color, and our life experiences in our contrastingly affluent country would inevitably build walls between us and every Haitian we would meet.  Fortunately, Christ gave us the guide to peacemaking for dummies, “you shall love your neighbors as yourself.” (Mark 12:31)  Armed with only these words, we entered into a world of disease, violence and absolute poverty.  We picked up a few other peaceful weapons along the way; particularly a deck of cards, an old Milton Bradley game, and our thumbs.  This arsenal would tear down the barriers that race, language and background would otherwise build up.

The danger in Port-au-Prince had grown so severe that Hands Together had begun to employ a permanent guard at their house.  Upon returning every afternoon, we were greeted by a smiling face and a shot gun.  This man who stood guard over our temporary home was the personification of the violent condition into which the country had plunged.  But upon closer examination, he was also a human being.  One night, he sat down with me and tried to teach me to count in Creole using a deck of cards.  We sat opposite each other laughing at my poor language skills; in his lap lay his rifle, put aside for just the moment. 

The Hands Together house was teaming with life.  A handful of orphaned adolescent boys called the place their home.  When we arrived, there was great excitement among the boys over the strange visitors and an obvious desire to get to know us.  However, most of them spoke only sparse English, and we knew absolutely no Creole.  The old game Connect 4 bridged this space between us.  No words were necessary, only smiles and laughter.  Within five minutes, red and black plastic chips had planted a few seeds of understanding between complete strangers. 

In a small village in the countryside where Hands Together operated a food project, we found ourselves surrounded by teaming masses of little children who’d come out to see the “blan” or white people.  We had nothing to offer them until one of our group thought it would be fun to teach them how to play thumb war.  Immediately all the kids wanted to play and hands were thrust at us.  Their dusty black hands clasp our smooth white fingers, and we battled each other with big smiles and laughs. 

An ill-equipped group from the distant world of Wisconsin not only crossed miles of ocean to reach the people of Haiti, but with Christ’s tools in hand, we also crossed the larger fissures caused by differences in culture, language and shades of color.  Loving our neighbor was made possible through a rag-tag collection of games that promoted laughter; for as Victor Borge said, “Laughter is the closest distance between two people.”                      

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