Day 5: Humility

* Before I start, let me acknowledge that I am aware there is a gap in dates between posts. Exhaustion, stomach ache, and lack of internet has kept me from posting (and I'm ashamed to say, writing) the past two days. Hopefully those days will follow shortly. *

This morning I worked at a rubble site. The homeowner had a bucket of icecream for us vounteers that we would share on the break. When the break neared, I was called upon to ask for spoons from one of the elderly local women standing nearby. She took me by the hand, led me through the 6 inch mud path that led between tents, around naked children, under hanging laundry, and over the garbage to her tent. Children waived and smiled, pointing, calling me “blan” (white person), and laughing with excitement when I spoke creole to them - something they didn’t expect. She had a tent from USAID. Something I find comical (USAID tents, that is.) Most USAID tents I’ve seen in the tent cities around here are one tarp that does not cover all the sides; most only cover the top. Imagine that - a “house” with no sides. What do you do when it rains? So the locals still have to find other tarps and figure out ways to Macgyver some sort of living space. Come on people.

The woman's (Victane) tent was the size of my bathroom in NYC. (And that says a lot because nothing is big in NYC.) A tiny bed took up ¾ of the room and the rest was crap piled on top of each other in some sort of organized chaos because she knew exactly where to go to retrieve plastic silverware. She took out the little bag of soap she had and the almost empty jug of water (something scarce in Haiti) and washed the three plastic spoons, two forks, and one knife she was lending to us. Let me repeat, this woman who lost her home and later to find out one of her children in the earthquake, who already lived in poverty before the quake, who does not have enough food to eat, water to drink, or enough of anything in general - gave us, all of whom come from thriving countries, her only silverware and on top of that used her little resources to wash them. All so we could have some icecream. ICE CREAM! I was embarrassed to ask her. I was embarrassed for all that I have and ashamed of myself for all that she didn’t have. But beyond all of that, I was amazed and awed by her extreme willingness to help. It always seems to work that way – people who have nothing are always eager to give, and people who have plenty are always eager to withhold. This, dear readers, is a lesson for all of us to learn. If a 70 year old Haitian woman with 8 children, 2 of whom were lost in the earthquake, living in a tent smaller than most of our closets can give, then you better believe each and everyone of us can and should give, and should be giving more than we deem necessary.

The rest of the day she stayed at the site with us. Let me take this moment to describe this rubble site. It was a two story house that now looked like one story – the second floor becoming the first. This means there was more rubble than one would care to imagine. The international volunteers spent the whole morning sledging (if you’ve never swung a sledge hammer, let me tell to sledge for four hours is one of the most exhausting things you will ever do, especially in Haitian heat.) We didn’t even focus on the millions of pieces of broken cement that would have to be moved eventually before a temporary home could be placed on the slab of cement the first house was built upon.

I remember in between swings of the sledge hammer looking up to see this frail, 70-something Haitian woman half starved to death, picking up pieces of the rubble one at a time and throwing them across the street in the rubble pile. Once again I was both touched and humbled. I looked at the rubble and was utterly overwhelmed at how much there was. But Victane didn’t see it that way. She just took one piece of rubble at a time. Because that is, in fact, how one rebuilds the broken pieces of their life - one piece at a time. All morning she worked. Never once did she complain. God forgive me for all I’ve ever complained about.

We take breaks rather frequently to keep from getting heat exhaustion, us blans. At every sight I’ve been on local people have helped and yet we never offer them water. That is something I will not stand for. I immediately questioned that the first day, and they allowed the children to bring cups for water IF they had been helping. I understand the "if you give a mouse a cookie scenario." But there is a difference between being careful and being negligent. If they have been helping, they deserve water. It is the only humane thing to do.

I offered Victane my water bottle without second thought. My fear of disease or infection could not trump humanity. And was it not Jesus himself who said, "whatever you do unto the least of my brothers or sisters you do unto me. When I was thirsty you gave me drink." Who would I be if I turned Jesus away because I wasn’t certain where his lips had been? The look on her face when I offered her water – heartbreaking. Relief at being able to quench her thirst finally. Amazement at a blan sharing with her. And thanks.

It was the least I could do. Volunteers' wary eyes looked on at this interaction and quickly turned away, while others no doubt felt a wall fall down. These people are not “others.” They are us, just less fortunate. They are us at any moment, at any lost job, at any lost insurance, at any miserable circumstance. There is not a barrier between us, an invisible line we desperately try not to cross. Many volunteers treat them that way because that is how we are taught to see them. Because society and doctors put the fear of God in us about catching diseases and everything else under the sun. Shame on us. Shame on us indeed for feeling so superior. For drawing that invisible line and than doing our best to keep ourselves and everyone we know on the “right” side of it. Share your water with those who are thirsty. Period. End of story.

I will step off my soap box now.

It was a fantastic morning. Many lessons were learned. And that is priceless.

And then the torrential downpour came after lunch, in more ways than one.