Mossa's Wheelbarrow

Mossa, Haiti 2008

Like many people, I have wondered if I could make a difference in someone’s life. I am just one person. I’m no hero. So what could I really do? I’ll tell you….


I met Mossa.

Mossa spends her life curled on an old foam-rubber mattress on the ground in northwest Haiti. Her one-room home has four cement walls that encircle her like a dark, cool, cave. There were doorways, but no windows. There was a table, but no chairs. Just Mossa lying on a foam mattress in the corner, where I imagined she’d spent a countless number of years.

There were bowls on the floor, like a dog’s bowls, and I was pained to see that they were empty when our mission group visited her one day. I wasn't sure how often someone came by and filled them. I knew that she couldn't care for herself; her body was folded up like a pretzel. One foot was behind her head. One arm was functioning, the other was shriveled and small; the result of a childhood illness for which she received no treatment.

This was rural Haiti. Clothes were washed by being beaten on rocks at the trickling stream. Electricity was non-existent and water was carried in water pouches slung over the back of a donkey. Small cinder block houses contained families of 8 or 20. Dirt footpaths lead to the church, where the minister ran a generator to power a few lights for the nightly service.

The folks in my group wondered what we could do to help her. Pastor Mike had an idea. If we could raise enough money, he would send a truck to town (3 hours away) and buy her a wheelbarrow. The price was steep by Haiti standards -- $100.

Those of us with cash on hand eagerly pitched in. Pastor Mike sent a truck to town and three days later they returned with a brand new wheelbarrow for Mossa.

She cried when the pastor picked her up and placed her in it. He wheeled her two miles on dirt lanes to church on Sunday. Mossa was surrounded by her community, singing and rejoicing with the whole congregation. It was a beautiful sight and we felt blessed to have been a part of it.

I didn’t change the world by going to Haiti. But I did something to change someone’s life. I pitched in and helped pay for a wheelbarrow; something so oddly easy, but with tremendous impact. It only takes a small gesture to change the world for one person. Mossa taught me that. Here, I’d tried to change her life, but really, she changed mine.