March 28th,2010

March 28, 2010

Noel, our driver took us out yesterday. Normally when we bring a team to Haiti we try to expose them to some of the culture and beauty of Haiti. The music, the art, a bit of voodoo, a bit of Haitian history, a night club or going to see Richard Morse perform with RAM at the Olofsson Hotel, the quintessential Haitian experience. The memory of a night under a full moon, the shadows of voodoo icons rising and falling with the flickering kerosene lamps, a hundred Haitians swaying to RAM’s mizik rasin, preceded by a meal of tasso on the verandah will sustain you through the long, cold winter months of your life. On Sunday evenings we take the team for the buffet at the Hotel Montana and watch the red ball of sun drop into the cool blue waters of the bay. Our last weekend we spend at the beach as a reward for their hard work and a decompression from all the emotional stress a rehabilitation mission to Haiti invariably creates.
The Hotel Montana was destroyed in the earthquake. There are still bodies entombed in the rubble. Richard Morse and RAM haven’t played since January 12th. No one on our team felt much like going to the beach this year. We did go up to the Mission Baptiste de Fermathe to buy machetes, paintings and otherwise contribute to the Haitian economy.
On the way, Noel took us past his house, or rather his roof. That’s all that is left of it. He also took us past the market where his daughter and niece were trapped for 3 days. He now lives in a tent in the street with his wife and children. And the 6 kids ages 13-18 who lost their father, mother and uncle who was paying for their schooling in the earthquake. Noel’s wife worked with their mother so Noel and his wife took them in….. well, took them to the street where they have their tent. Joel, our other driver goes home to his family who live in a tent pitched in the soccer stadium. They both told us that they feel lucky because they have jobs and a place to go each day.
They drove us past St. Vincent school, the school for disabled children where we worked before we had our own clinic. It looked like a blue cake that had been sliced in two with a knife, and half of the cake was carried away. All the children inside were killed. My heart fell as we turned onto Blvd. Jn Jacques Dessalines, the main street. Not only was the formerly busiest street in Haiti deserted, ALL the buildings had crumbled. I had to ask Noel twice if we were really on Dessalines. Building after building crumbled or gone. The 6 story Teleco building, the police station, all the shops I used to know as a missionary were gone. There was nothing but dust, and rubble. I almost threw up. Noel told us there were still hundreds of bodies underneath the rubble. We turned down past La Ravine de Bois de Chaine a trickle of a river filled with thousands of Styrofoam take-out meal boxes and plastic water bottles. I wondered where the next million empty plastic water bottles would go. For the first time I wondered if Haiti could ever really recover.
As we drove in silence past row after row of destruction, dirt and despair, Noel said, “You know, I only smile when I’m with a team. Then I can laugh and joke with them, and I can help them help my people. When I go home, there is nothing to smile about”. We will keep sending teams, and if the Haitian people still living in the street after 3 months, can find hope, we will find hope too.