A reminder of what life is really about. Welcome home, Chris!
Yesterday, I witnessed something that touched me deeply — a moment that felt like a reminder of what life is really about.
Chris returned to Matènwa after a long absence. I traveled with her and Vince Theodore, a videographer and producer Chris has known since he was 10!
We traveled first by small plane from Cap Haitian to Lagonav Island. Then by motorcycle up the mountain to Matènwa, about an hour and a half ride. (Photo: Vince, me, and Chris on our flight to Lagonav Island.)
As we rounded the final bend in the road toward the school the air suddenly filled with music. Before we could even see them, the band had already begun to play.
Then the students came into view. Not a handful. Not a class. The entire secondary school.
They lined up in two long rows that seemed to stretch on forever. Teachers beside them. Parents just behind. Signs lifted. Faces lit up. And then everything opened wide.
The lines dissolved as people surged forward—one hug, then another, then too many to count. Laughter and tears all at once. Chris tried to take it in and simply couldn’t.
She was overwhelmed, pulled forward by the sheer force of love coming at her from every direction.
And just like that, the welcome turned into a procession: students, teachers, parents, music, movement—all of us walking together, escorting her back into the heart of the community she calls home.
It was joyful. It was generous. It was deeply, unmistakably heartfelt.
When we reached the school yard the students lined up in class rows, teachers behind them, while neighbors stood on the sidelines.
The brass band began to play the Haitian national anthem while everyone else proudly saluted the flag as they sang.
Chris with her longtime colleague Andy, on the way to Matènwa!
This was the unifying ritual that they do every morning before class. They had Chris stand where she usually stands when addressing the whole school.
It seemed to be a way to say, “You are back in your place. It is as if you never left. Welcome home.”
This is not just a school. It is a living community built over decades—classrooms where children learn in their own language, teachers trained in nonviolent, child-centered education, gardens that tie learning to land and food to dignity, summer camps, music, art, and space for joy.
It is a place shaped by local leadership, where women and men lead together, where rural communities are honored, and where education is rooted in the realities of daily life.
Moments like yesterday don’t happen by accident. They are made possible through solidarity—because people like you have chosen, again and again, to stand with Matènwa, to trust local leaders, and to invest in a vision of justice, equality, and care that grows from the ground up.
In a time when Haiti is so often described only through crisis, yesterday offered something else entirely: a living vision of what is possible when communities are given the tools, resources, and respect they need to lead.
Being there—witnessing people show up for one another with such joy and conviction—felt like a quiet but powerful reminder of what life is meant to be.
In solidarity,
Brian Stevens
Deputy Director | Friends of Matènwa
