Jimaní
The road from Santo Domingo is long and tiring, a six
and a half hour drive, penetrating deep into the dry, poverty-stricken south of
the country, to Jimaní on the frontier with Haiti.
It was Sunday, so there was little activity, and we
crossed over in less than an hour and continued on westwards.
Destruction
Driving towards Port-au-Prince, the capital of Haiti,
we began to see tent cities everywhere, with lines of tents in organized rows
and files. However, the closer we came,
the more the order broke down.
As we entered the city, it seemed that every third
house had simply collapsed, its rubble spilling out onto the pavement. The remaining houses that are still standing
are so cracked and broken that no one dares to enter them. The next after-shock might finally bring them
down too, with someone inside.
In every empty
space, makeshift shacks -entire shantytowns- unfold before your eyes. Every space, park, sports facility, every
inch of open land is covered with thousand upon thousands upon thousands of
sheds, frames, tents and huts, covered with multi-coloured tarpaulins,
curtains, bed sheets. And the nightmare
just keeps on getting worse, with more and more and more tents and shacks.
 |
|
4:53 pm, 12th of January
More than half a million persons died in Port-au-Prince at precisely
4:53 pm.
We found this clock on the floor, broken, when we started to clean up
the chapel.
|
Nowhere to go
It is difficult to convey the awful pit-of-the-stomach
realization that these are not holiday camps, but literally the only
alternative that remains for those who have lost everything and have absolutely
nowhere to go. At least 600,000 of the
population of Port-au-Prince have already left, for the country or to other
towns and cities. But those who are
unable to leave or don’t have family elsewhere, have to accept whatever they
can find. At least 1,700,000 people are
living under canvas: men, women, children, old folk, teenagers and babies. Some have no family left. Most have lost many relatives. We have only met one person who hasn’t lost
anyone at all.
It is a living nightmare inhabited by 1,700,000
seriously traumatised persons. And every
empty face hides the suffering face of Jesus.
There is nothing to do but love -in the words of Mother Teresa of
Calcutta- until it hurts.
Meanwhile, along every roadside are lines and lines of
small stalls and tables, one after another, selling any and everything. Everyone wants to sell something and no one
has any money to buy.
There is a constant haze of white dust hanging in the
air, from the pulverized concrete. There
are smells of urine everywhere, and -less obviously- the smell of death from
the thousands of bodies still to be recovered from under the rubble.
We will never know the true figure, but it is probable
-according to Msgr. Kebreau (President of the Haitian Bishops’ Conference) -
that at least half a million people died at 4:53 p.m., on the 12th of January.
 |
|
Ground zero
|
Ground zero
Driving on through the centre of town, you head out
through a suburb called Carrefour, which is very simply a flattened, disaster
area. On all sides, as far as the eye
can see, there is nothing but piles of rubble, the odd half wall, and the
occasional rooftop. One is reminded of
photos of Hiroshima. And once again,
tents, huts and shacks are everywhere.
 |
|
You come across immensely long, open cracks in the
earth,
sometimes running along the middle of the road.
|
And heading out into the countryside towards the
south, finally you come across immensely long, open cracks in the earth,
sometimes running along the middle of the road, with an opening maybe three to
six inches wide, but with one side several inches higher than the other. I hadn’t believed the stories of people
falling into the cracks and being swallowed up, but now I am not so certain.
The Presidential Palace
The Presidential Palace is the very heart of
Port-au-Prince. In other days it had
been the pride of the nation, an imposing, well designed and worthy seat of
Government, set in well trimmed grounds, and fronted by a beautiful open park
of trees and grass called the Champs du Mars.
The trees and grass have now disappeared under the
encroaching, endless camp city, and the Palace itself, now totally
un-inhabitable, is slowly folding in on itself, settling slightly more with
each after-shock, the central cupola tilted forwards and the two side cupolas
at each end of the main building, tilting outwards.
As the sun set, the traffic came to a halt and a
platoon of policia ceremoniously lowered the national flag in front of all that
is left of Haitian pride: a slowly collapsing symbol that no-one can do
anything about.
 |
|
The President’s
Palace before
|
 |
|
The President’s
Palace after
|
HUEH
We were living within the grounds of the HUEH, the
General Hospital, a big university teaching hospital. No one dares to live or work in the shaky
buildings. However, all the gardens and
internal roads of the complex are filled with tents.
At the moment (according to the administrator) there
are some 350 patients.
Each 20 bed tent is a ward. One tent is for leg amputations, another for
arms, and so on. The majority of the
patients seem to have received physical injuries: heads, arms and legs,
internal bleeding, and so on. There are
25 tents like this for recuperating patients.
There are tents for pregnant women (along one side
road), for paediatrics (further along the road), for emergencies (in front of
the main gate) etc. And further back,
there is an operating theatre tent (with 6 tables), and a recovery tent.
There is a tent for laboratory work, and another for
preventative medicine (vaccinations and so on) and another 2 tents for external
HIV patients.
There is even a tarpaulin for the volunteer firemen
from Peru and Madrid who are supplying and purifying the water.
Most of the tents have open sides to allow the air to
move and alleviate the intense midday heat.
Only the most specialized tents have air-conditioning. Some of the others have an electrical fan.
(One day we touched 43ºC in our tent).
 |
|
This was a
three-storied building in the University of Leogane – just imagine!
|
Sounds in the night
Sound travels in a hospital housed in tents,
especially at night: the monotonous
wailing of loneliness; a child’s piercing screams as a blood sample is being
taken; the yells of a woman in labour, the cries of pure agony as a
physiotherapist helps a knee to bend again, and -in the early morning- the low,
repetitive laments for the dead.
International Aid
One feels humbled by the size and the depth of the
international aid that has arrived, from NGO’s and charities of every type,
some faith-based, some philanthropic. We
met a group from New York who belonged to a Hindu sect called Saibaba. They were sending 5 new volunteers every week
to help some Franciscan friars. Every
morning the Friars celebrate Mass, then convert their Chapel of St. Alexandre
into a clinic, with up to 500 patients a day lined up, sitting in the pews,
waiting for the doctors to receive them on either side of the altar.
Of course we found some groups who were only
interested in propagating their own point of view, but the great majority
recognised that there is a higher being, in some cases they called him God, who
is love, all love, and only love.
We met Ivy, a happy young Jewess from Los Angeles, who
had come on indefinite leave, to help the Hospital Administration. Very simply she explained that her best
friend is Haitian.
We met Josee, a young pharmacist from New York who
came down at her own expense to help organize the pharmacy storage.
We met Cándido from Guatemala, heading up a team of
volunteer firemen from Peru and Madrid
We met Dr. Evan Lyon from Boston, working with “Partners in Health”,
setting up clinics and small hospitals.
And everywhere we went, we were identified as Dominicans, and
thanked. Thanked for being the first,
and for doing the most.
Tents
We celebrated Mass beneath two large green American
army tents. We found a tent city in and
around a basketball court, with lovely big blue tents: “P. R. China”. We prayed the rosary in the Champs du Mars
under a tarpaulin: “US Aid – a gift from the American People”. The children’s wards were housed in tents
“Donated by Switzerland” and the children slept on cots printed “Ministerio
dell’interno, Socorro Pubblico”, while the Genecology wards were housed in
tents “Fondation Budiste de Taiwan”.
Finally, Father Jaime was living in a tent: “Libyan Red Crescent”.
Luxury accommodation
We had our own small polyester tent (made in Chile),
1.3 meters high with room for two mattresses.
It was pitched in the side yard of what is left of the Chapel of the
Immaculate Conception, next to the Administrator’s tent. (She -as so many others- has lost her own
home). On the other side of the yard was
the empty Laboratory building, still standing, but with enormous cracks not
only in the walls, but dividing a supporting column as well. Any day now it will collapse.
Every time you see a building still standing, you find
yourself playing “spot the cracks”.
 |
|
Let’s play!
Father Jaime
and Nidia, infected by the enthusiasm of the boys.
What
fun! Did you notice that the kid on the
left has had his foot amputated?
|
Champs du Mars
Every evening we accompanied Father Jaime to visit the
tent city in front of the Presidential Palace.
An endless warren of tiny alleys winding through the noisy, smelly
half-light of dusk, between tents and makeshift huts of every shape and colour
imaginable.
The people were pleased to see us, and each night we
rapidly collected a group (mainly women and children) to sing some songs and
pray a rosary (in our very special Creole).
We were accepted, but one felt that many people were close to their
limits and the restraints of civilized life would soon fall apart, like so many
other things from their past life.
Nearby was a fire hydrant – the only water
available. In the half-light men, women
and children soaped and washed themselves.
Modesty is a luxury in such circumstances.
 |
|
The face of Haiti
Juliana is almost three years old. She lives in a hospital that barely
functions.
She is seriously traumatized with injuries to
the head, body and both legs.
She has neither a father nor a mother. Her future is uncertain.
|
Suffer the children to
come
The paediatric department wasn’t too far away, and we
soon made friends with the children despite the language barrier. It is surprising how a funny face can make
anyone laugh.
The children, between 2 and 14 years of age, were all
recovering from serious injuries, and many lacked a foot, an arm, a finger or
whatever. The grotesque metal screws
used to stabilize broken bones are even more horrible, sticking out of the legs
and arms of children. Most had head and
internal injuries as well.
Some days you find an empty bed, and don’t dare to ask
where the patient went. One hopes they
went home. One fears they went to the
morgue.
You cannot allow yourself to cry. We have to give hope, hope against all hope,
the promise of hope, the expectation of hope, the dream of hope. And beyond the seemingly impossible goal of
hope, are faith and love. When all is
over, there remains just three things: faith, hope and love, and the greatest
of these three is love.
Mass every morning
In times of uncertainty, people look for
security. And so the Mass we celebrated
every day was “more catholic than the Pope”, with everything done “just
right”. For instance: not one but three
mantels on the altar. Father Jaime
dressed with all the vestments. And we
prayed all and every prayer. And the
people seemed to be calmed by the security of something from when life was
“normal”, even though we were celebrating under a tent in the forecourt of the
chapel
Maundy Thursday
Maundy Thursday held a very special meaning for
us. We were able to use the Hospital’s
chapel for the first time since the earthquake.
The damaged part had been walled off with plywood, and there was new
paint everywhere.
Although we had spread the word, less than 20 people
turned up. So, like the parable in Luke
14, 21 we went down the alley to the childrens’ tents and brought a dozen or so
of the halt and the lame, hobbling along.
They were happy with the chance to leave their tents, and showed off to
us, making the most of their newly learnt skill with crutches.
And then occurred the worst single moment of all:
without thinking what I was saying, I turned to Father Jaime and suggested that
when it came to the ceremony of washing the feet, he ask the children to take
off their right shoe, because several of them didn’t have left feet…
We looked at each other -¡they had been amputated! -
and rapidly smothered our reactions.
 |
|
The ritual washing of feet.
|
Easter Sunday
Our Maundy Thursday had been filled with sadness, but
on Easter Sunday the chapel was full and the choir sang with joy. Twenty six of our little brothers and sisters
from the childrens’ wards attended.
Carefully placing their crutches on the floor they sat in the first
three benches, and paid close attention to everything that happened: the
triumphal entrance of the Easter Candle (lit by one of them); the choir singing
in four voices, accompanied by a small drum; the short sermon in creole of
Brother Miguel Martel; the solemn mystery of the Eucharist, and later, the
surprise of a an iced cake and refreshments to celebrate the choir’s
birthday. At the end of a week of trials
and difficulties, Easter Sunday offered a future of hope and community.
The coming tragedy
The word “tragedy” suggests a coming disaster that we
are powerless to avert. It is the only
way to describe the terrible future that is awaiting the Haitian
population. There is no organization in
the world equipped to feed 3 million people for the foreseeable future.
On one side there are thousands of well-intentioned
volunteers doing everything possible to help.
On the other hand there are errors, and lack of planning, and occasional
dishonesty (which receives too much publicity which in turn damages the main
effort seriously).
In the middle are literally millions of people with
nothing of their own, and no where to go.
Soon we are going to see people literally dieing of
hunger. It is inevitable, and there is
nothing that we can do about it.
And soon after that, the April rains are due. Remember that everyone is still living under
canvas in unhealthy proximity to each other.
We are going to see more deaths due to infections and contagious
disease.
With death from hunger, and later on from illnesses,
and so little help at hand, we are going to see a growing discontent. A tragedy is waiting to happen.
 |
|
I will be with you always!
On Maundy Thursday we went to Port-au-Prince
Cathedral for the Holy Chrism Mass.
Nothing remains of the Cathedral except some walls and this statue of
the crucifixion.
The meaning cannot be ignored.
Mass was celebrated under tarpaulins in the gardens.
|
The final tragedy
The backbone of any society is the middle class, the
owners of shops, corner stores, cafes, workshops and small businesses. All of these people have seen a lifetime of
careful planning, long hours and personal sacrifice disappear in a minute and a
half. They are back to being as poor as
the beggars on the street.
The final
tragedy is that Haiti can only pull itself up by its bootstraps if the middle
class is motivated to start again. And
the sad truth is that most of them would prefer to emigrate if they could.
If Haiti loses their middle class, the long term
effect will be worse than that of the earthquake itself.
Conclusion
¿How do you console a 14 year old boy, still in hospital
with a serious leg injury, who has lost his entire family?
The circumstances in Haiti are so over-whelming that
they are difficult to grasp. But there
are three alternatives:
1 Close your
eyes really tight, and hope that it will all go away.
2 Judge and
criticise.
3 Follow the
advise of Sta. Teresa of Lisieux, and do little but do it well.
We can’t solve the problem of Haiti. It will be a next-door reality for the rest
of our lives.
 |
| Divanie |
 |
| Marlaine - the Administrator |
 |
| Wilson |
