Today I write in the wake of the most powerful experience of my life. In the past few days, I have never seen such an outpour of emotions. Grown men and women have broken down before my eyes, crying uncontrollably with the fear that loved ones or beloved officials may have died. These are the same people who have survived viscously oppressive dictators, coups, and a national army who’s enemy is not a foreign power, but many times its own citizens. Men who are much wiser and who have experienced so much more than I, were sobbing in my arms as I could only sit there and be present as the radio stations cried on.
I will try and do justice to one of the scenes that I witness the night of the earthquake. A group of us were sitting around the radio, listening and hoping for news that friends and family members were ok. A report came in that the legislative building collapsed on a party with some of the senators in attendance. One of the senators was like a father to many of the people in the house and one of the men, whom had been extremely nice and upbeat the entire time I was there, began to sob uncontrollably. As he sat in his chair shriveling into a ball in pain, weeping, all we could do is sit next to him and do and be present. I cannot describe the pain that emanated from him that rippled into my heart. This was not a cry that I had ever witness. It was not the typical crying I had seen in America of people who had just broken up, or of people who had just got a bad grade on a test. This was an uncontrollable, totally exposed breakdown. (I do not mean to quantify suffering, but I just want to portray what I saw in some context everyone can understand)
I cannot wholly explain the sorrow people felt, for I cannot fully comprehend it to be honest. I have such a strong love for these people and it is very hard to see them suffer in such a way. These once always cheerful people have been literally brought to their knees in pain.
So much has happened that I really don’t know how to continue, but I will end it like this. Although the international community has chosen to marginalize this country and people have gone about their days allowing this to continue, I pray that motivation does not dwindle for this beautiful country. Instead, I hope that rather than letting the country descend into absolute poverty again, something evil can be made good, and all people including Haitians, can live without fear of dying from things that are easily accessible. Thank you for reading and please pray for the people suffering in Haiti.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Dignified Poverty
Over the past few days I have learn and scene things that no textbooks, no statistic could ever do justice. When I say 30,000 kids die each year can you really picture it. Every day here in Haiti is a survival for its citizens whom over 50% live on less than 1$ a day and 78% live on less than 2$ a day. People are everywhere trying to survive with what little they have. When we drive around town and I wave at people from the back of the truck and see people digging through garbage, washing in dirty water, and going to the bathroom wherever they can find privacy. What kind of life is this. This is injustice. These people work harder than anyone I have ever met, and at the end of the day come away with nothing.
On my trip we were able to visit Milot to see the dry toilets operating. Many people in the US are rather repulsed at the thought of talking about sanitation, but in countries like this it is a huge problem. Imagine not having anywhere to go the bathroom. That is what these people face every day and with people defecating in public areas they are exposed to many diseases. SOIL builds toilets that collect the waste and then transforms it into valuable fertilizer. It was amazing to see the toilets and fields where they plant a variety of plants.
What really disturbs me about Haiti is the amount of street kids. It is estimated that over half of Haiti’s kids are street kids who eke out a living on the streets begging. They are so vulnerable to terrible forces and often times resort to huffing paint thinner. I can’t blame them for doing so, but quite frankly that is the worst thing you can do because they kill brain cells. Also, many of the kids are exposed to a variety of diseases. For example, the other day the two boys who I helped brought a boy to me who was throwing up. He was about 8 years old so I had to refer them to a medical clinic in a nearby village called Shada. When they came back so that I could hold and give them their medicine periodically throughout the day I asked the boys where they get their water. They told me they drink whatever they can get which includes puddles which often is filled with bacteria and worms that live inside your intestine.
Another experience I had was going to the town limonade to inaugurate a toilet. Limonade is out in the country and I can surely conclude that it was the poorest rural city I have ever seen. A huge pile of trash lay right next to the river which had trash and livestock flanking either side. Human feces lay in the dirt road and the houses had holes all over the place. It was quite a sight. It was great though to see everyone so excited to have a place to go to the bathroom.
Also, we visited a village Shada which is the worst slum in Cap Haitien. It is by far the worst urban poverty I have ever seen. It was hard to image since I had lived in the US my whole life, but trash was everywhere. There was about 10 meters of trash piled up on either side of the river and algae was growing all over it. Houses were poorly made and mud and dirt filled the spaces in-between houses. The canals that existed had water that looked like water from a sewer plant. We were taken to a house where a mother took out her child which was 8 months old and weighed around 11 pounds. I could see the bones in the baby’s frail body and saw its ribs as the helpless child struggled with every breath.
I can’t explain everything that has happened to me, for it seems like another world here, yet I love these people with all my heart. Jean Bertrand Aristide said it best that all Haiti’s citizens ask for is to live in dignified poverty and I hope that one day no Haitian has to die of starvation or of easily curable disea
ses.
On my trip we were able to visit Milot to see the dry toilets operating. Many people in the US are rather repulsed at the thought of talking about sanitation, but in countries like this it is a huge problem. Imagine not having anywhere to go the bathroom. That is what these people face every day and with people defecating in public areas they are exposed to many diseases. SOIL builds toilets that collect the waste and then transforms it into valuable fertilizer. It was amazing to see the toilets and fields where they plant a variety of plants.
What really disturbs me about Haiti is the amount of street kids. It is estimated that over half of Haiti’s kids are street kids who eke out a living on the streets begging. They are so vulnerable to terrible forces and often times resort to huffing paint thinner. I can’t blame them for doing so, but quite frankly that is the worst thing you can do because they kill brain cells. Also, many of the kids are exposed to a variety of diseases. For example, the other day the two boys who I helped brought a boy to me who was throwing up. He was about 8 years old so I had to refer them to a medical clinic in a nearby village called Shada. When they came back so that I could hold and give them their medicine periodically throughout the day I asked the boys where they get their water. They told me they drink whatever they can get which includes puddles which often is filled with bacteria and worms that live inside your intestine.
Another experience I had was going to the town limonade to inaugurate a toilet. Limonade is out in the country and I can surely conclude that it was the poorest rural city I have ever seen. A huge pile of trash lay right next to the river which had trash and livestock flanking either side. Human feces lay in the dirt road and the houses had holes all over the place. It was quite a sight. It was great though to see everyone so excited to have a place to go to the bathroom.
Also, we visited a village Shada which is the worst slum in Cap Haitien. It is by far the worst urban poverty I have ever seen. It was hard to image since I had lived in the US my whole life, but trash was everywhere. There was about 10 meters of trash piled up on either side of the river and algae was growing all over it. Houses were poorly made and mud and dirt filled the spaces in-between houses. The canals that existed had water that looked like water from a sewer plant. We were taken to a house where a mother took out her child which was 8 months old and weighed around 11 pounds. I could see the bones in the baby’s frail body and saw its ribs as the helpless child struggled with every breath.
I can’t explain everything that has happened to me, for it seems like another world here, yet I love these people with all my heart. Jean Bertrand Aristide said it best that all Haiti’s citizens ask for is to live in dignified poverty and I hope that one day no Haitian has to die of starvation or of easily curable disea
ses.
Monday, January 4, 2010
1st Day
How do I begin. With what words can I explain what I have witness. I will start my story when I stepped out of the airport and was greeted with hugs from people I had never met. I saw a boy, my brother, with a deformed head, and with a leg as skinny as a post and the other swelled with what I presumed to be infected with Lymphatic Filarisis. He asked me for some money and my hat, and I was forced to refuse him, for I told him I would give it to him when I left. (I don't think I could have felt worse in my life for I wish I could give him every hat I had) I struggled to make it to the car where I hoped in the back and we drove away. Kids waved as we left, giving me high fives as we departed.
As we drove through the muddy streets people stared at me and in their eyes was a pain I cannot explain. An exhaustion reserved for a person laboring for what seemed an eternity. I saw people barley clothed, my brothers and sisters with nothing but the clothes on their backs (or lack of). I saw someone digging through trash trying just to find something of value.
When I arrived at the house I was greeted by an array of SOL employees. I cannot remember their names, but even with a language barrier these people offered me genuine love. With hugs and jokes, many of which I did not understand, there amazing smiles allowed me to grasp the love they were giving to me and I can only hope they felt from me.
Sasha and Sarah are such great people. They display all the fruits of the spirit in their kindness, love, pacients, understanding, and generosity they show towards others. I am truly blessed to spend time with both of them.
The most powerful part of my day was when I met two Haitian street boys. The 1st was a boy who had cuts over his feet, back and just above the eye. I initially knew the cut above the eye needed stitches, yet the other wounds I could treat with basic supplies. I use some hydrogen peroxide to clean the cuts and bandaged them up. The cut above the eye was very deep and the boy began to cry as he began to fear we weren’t going to be able to fix it. I calmed him down and rubbed his back until he began to raise his head. We listened to my ipod which he enjoyed until the car came back so we could get him to the hospital. Just as the car arrived another boy came to Sasha and showed her his lip. I asked him to show me and it was deeply cut and was severely infected with bacteria (to the point it looked like there was maggots) so he needed treatment as well.
The guys and I jumped in the back of the truck and we took both of the boys to the hospital. When we arrived at the hospital Sasha went up to the front and was able to get the boys seen by a doctor. I was not ready for what was to come next.
As we began to walk the halls I began to see what I thought was the hospital of a war zone. People were lying down with every type of ailment. Old ladies were lying, coughing, exhausted by their sickness. Men were sprawled out with broken bones and deep gashes. The most severely wounded man was the man who had an old rope tied around his waist and 5 deep gashes in the top of his head. Blood was spilling onto the ground as the doctor tried his best to stitch up the man’s wounds. As I directed the two boys past with somber faces, we entered a room that was just as depressing. About 5 beds were occupied by gravely sick people all with IV’s in their bodies. They lay their lifeless as the doctors tried their best to attend to everyone. The boys were told that they would have to wait so I accompanied the boys to a room with only a few other sick people. We sat and I taught them to write the alphabet and we laughed as they tried to communicate with me by Creole. After a considerable amount of time had transpired, Sasha was able to get the doctors to look at the boys and I accompanied them to the room. There we found a mother and her 3 children on a table. The mother had an IV in her and was shirtless and obviously very sick. Her 3 children were about 4, 6, and 8 and comforted her with stone cold faces as the mother was throwing up blood into a trash can next to her. I tried to make funny faces at the kids who were able to crack a smile (at least for a second). The woman was eventually taken out and a nurse came in and started to stitch up the one boys eye. She had to give him a shot which the boy took as if it were nothing. She finished with the boy and then left. Then, a doctor arrived to treat the other boy with an infected lip. The doctor took the boy’s fat upper and bottom lip and began sticking it with a needle to numb the pain and as he did it tears began to stream down the boys face, yet he refused to flinch. The doctor then used a razor blade to cut out the boys bacteria out and then sanitized the wound. He then had to stitch up the boys lip. I’ve never seen a boy be so braze in my life. We paid for the boys medicine and drove them back to our house. I brought them something down to eat which Sasha had prepared and I gave them their medicines and put a cream on the boys lip. It was pouring outside so I gave each of the boys an extra one of my shirts and sent them into the pouring night. I was so sorry to see them go. They were so helpless I wish I could have cared for them longer. Yet they are just 2 in a huge system of poverty and it is what drives me to want to become a doctor.
I am having the best experience of my life and I would not change this for anything in the world. I thank God for the opportunity to serve these people and I hope I can love them like Jesus loved us.
As we drove through the muddy streets people stared at me and in their eyes was a pain I cannot explain. An exhaustion reserved for a person laboring for what seemed an eternity. I saw people barley clothed, my brothers and sisters with nothing but the clothes on their backs (or lack of). I saw someone digging through trash trying just to find something of value.
When I arrived at the house I was greeted by an array of SOL employees. I cannot remember their names, but even with a language barrier these people offered me genuine love. With hugs and jokes, many of which I did not understand, there amazing smiles allowed me to grasp the love they were giving to me and I can only hope they felt from me.
Sasha and Sarah are such great people. They display all the fruits of the spirit in their kindness, love, pacients, understanding, and generosity they show towards others. I am truly blessed to spend time with both of them.
The most powerful part of my day was when I met two Haitian street boys. The 1st was a boy who had cuts over his feet, back and just above the eye. I initially knew the cut above the eye needed stitches, yet the other wounds I could treat with basic supplies. I use some hydrogen peroxide to clean the cuts and bandaged them up. The cut above the eye was very deep and the boy began to cry as he began to fear we weren’t going to be able to fix it. I calmed him down and rubbed his back until he began to raise his head. We listened to my ipod which he enjoyed until the car came back so we could get him to the hospital. Just as the car arrived another boy came to Sasha and showed her his lip. I asked him to show me and it was deeply cut and was severely infected with bacteria (to the point it looked like there was maggots) so he needed treatment as well.
The guys and I jumped in the back of the truck and we took both of the boys to the hospital. When we arrived at the hospital Sasha went up to the front and was able to get the boys seen by a doctor. I was not ready for what was to come next.
As we began to walk the halls I began to see what I thought was the hospital of a war zone. People were lying down with every type of ailment. Old ladies were lying, coughing, exhausted by their sickness. Men were sprawled out with broken bones and deep gashes. The most severely wounded man was the man who had an old rope tied around his waist and 5 deep gashes in the top of his head. Blood was spilling onto the ground as the doctor tried his best to stitch up the man’s wounds. As I directed the two boys past with somber faces, we entered a room that was just as depressing. About 5 beds were occupied by gravely sick people all with IV’s in their bodies. They lay their lifeless as the doctors tried their best to attend to everyone. The boys were told that they would have to wait so I accompanied the boys to a room with only a few other sick people. We sat and I taught them to write the alphabet and we laughed as they tried to communicate with me by Creole. After a considerable amount of time had transpired, Sasha was able to get the doctors to look at the boys and I accompanied them to the room. There we found a mother and her 3 children on a table. The mother had an IV in her and was shirtless and obviously very sick. Her 3 children were about 4, 6, and 8 and comforted her with stone cold faces as the mother was throwing up blood into a trash can next to her. I tried to make funny faces at the kids who were able to crack a smile (at least for a second). The woman was eventually taken out and a nurse came in and started to stitch up the one boys eye. She had to give him a shot which the boy took as if it were nothing. She finished with the boy and then left. Then, a doctor arrived to treat the other boy with an infected lip. The doctor took the boy’s fat upper and bottom lip and began sticking it with a needle to numb the pain and as he did it tears began to stream down the boys face, yet he refused to flinch. The doctor then used a razor blade to cut out the boys bacteria out and then sanitized the wound. He then had to stitch up the boys lip. I’ve never seen a boy be so braze in my life. We paid for the boys medicine and drove them back to our house. I brought them something down to eat which Sasha had prepared and I gave them their medicines and put a cream on the boys lip. It was pouring outside so I gave each of the boys an extra one of my shirts and sent them into the pouring night. I was so sorry to see them go. They were so helpless I wish I could have cared for them longer. Yet they are just 2 in a huge system of poverty and it is what drives me to want to become a doctor.
I am having the best experience of my life and I would not change this for anything in the world. I thank God for the opportunity to serve these people and I hope I can love them like Jesus loved us.
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