Day 7: Jupiter

Tonight I am staring out at an ALMOST full moon. The skies are quiet and calm after the ALMOST hurricane rains that tormented the sky earlier in the day (I clearly underestimated the rains; the rain two days ago was nothing compared to today.) Across from the smiling face is a bright Jupiter, battling for ownership of the heavens. Beautiful. It’s amazing to think that here in the midst of utmost poverty, thousands of miles from home, I am staring at the same moon as the one seen in NYC, in Detroit, wherever you are, dear reader. It’s a funny thing that we can be worlds away and yet stare at the same brilliant moon. I wonder what it is that you are doing right now? Perhaps you are enjoying an ice cold beverage (something I’d give my right arm for), or laying in your air conditioned room on a bed that does not need to be blown up nor is sopping wet from this morning’s showers. Or perhaps, you are staring at the same moon wondering what it is exactly that I am doing. And if that is the case, then you and I are not as far apart as it may seem.

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I worked on the rubble site for a school today. A three-story kindergarten collapsed to almost ground level. Some of the children are attending school under a tarp in a space about ten feet by ten feet, or so. It was a strange thing to dig up rubble and find smashed chairs, ripped homework, and worst of all clothing. I told myself they were extra clothes kept for emergencies to keep myself from thinking of the alternative. After lunch, the headmaster informed us that no children had died in the school; they had all been dismissed about an hour or two before the quake hit. It was like taking off my winter coat in the middle of a Haitian summer.

A lot of people (non-Haitian) have asked “why aren’t they doing more for themselves?” or “ why haven’t they cleaned up more of the mess?” If you have never stood at the base of a 6 foot tall pile of rubble, with not enough tools (or no tools for most Haitians), no help, no money, and nowhere to put all the rubble you will be removing, than you have absolutely no idea how unbelievably overwhelming and impossible of a job it is. This is not my homeland nor are any of these piles of rubble my house, and I come with a group of willing and able-bodied workers with more than enough tools and supplies. And yet, when I arrive at sites like the one today and see all of that broken concrete I want to cry thinking about how absurdly exhausting and incredibly overwhelming that pile is. And I get to leave at the end of the day. Sooner or later I get to go home to my therapeutic bed and apartment building with running water and electricity, without fear of it crumbling on top of my head. There is so much to do on just ONE site, not to mention the whole of Haiti. But they don’t cry, at least not openly. They just smile and say “bonjou! Komon ou ye?” (Hello. How are you?)

Another volunteer and I were talking about post traumatic stress and how many Haitians had to be suffering from it and yet they would never receive any medical attention or help. They would simply (or not so simply) have to live with it. And then shortly after a different volunteer told me how she had taken a walk with a Local and he showed her his house. A few steps later he pointed out, “and this is where I sleep.” She didn’t understand why his house and his sleeping grounds were separate from each other. He explained to her that they lived in their house, ate there, kept their belongings there, but they did not feel safe to sleep there in case another quake were to shake their world. So every night he went to a tiny tent to sleep - the only way he felt safe. It made me think how many people must feel that way. Imagine to never feel safe in your house again. I also heard from a schoolmaster that since many children were still in school when the quake happened, even though some schools have been rebuilt, the children are afraid to return to them. Can you blame them? To experience something immensely traumatic at such an early age - how do you ever go back?

The rest of your life in fear…I can’t fathom it. However, above all that, they just keep going on, smiling, and living life – in fear or not – they just keep living life.