October 12th through 17th I had the opportunity to visit my Haitian family in Bayonnais. It took two and a half days to greet people, catching up on how they were doing post-Hanna/Ike. Trying to schedule meetings was somewhat laughable, as anyone at any given moment might well pull me to the side for an hour-long conversation. To each his/her own struggles; often poverty dynamics previously complex were now more complicated. Any crops located near a water source took a significant toll. Rocks and gravel stole the value of most arable land along the river, leaving owners with nothing. Most piggy banks and goat investments drowned in flood waters, and many lost houses or portions thereof. Nonetheless, as is characteristic of Bayonnaisiens, there is hope and gratitude in their eyes. Beside fear and trembling there is trust in a faithful God who provides–One who provides novel food-bearing machines from the sky, One who provides life despite whirlwinds.
We drove to Gonaives one day so that I could see the damage in Haiti’s New Orleans. Passing the colorful cement buildings of a small cemetery, Actionnel poignantly remarked, “You see, the dead have better houses than the living.” Indeed, only the foundations of many houses survived the waters in one area on the outskirts of the city. I saw huge Mapoo trees–dwelling places of Satan in Voodoo tradition–that had been uprooted despite his best efforts and carried downstream. Occasional cars “buried like potatoes” testified to the unwelcome presence of mud–thick, sticky mud that clings to the inside of one’s bucket or wheelbarrow until tediously scraped by hand. Reeds and debris clothed the metal armature of rooftops, skeletal hopes that opportunity will someday provide a second floor. Two paintings I had purchased from Michel Style were “altered” to say the least. The seaside location where I drew “‘Silence de la Mer’” no longer exists, and the large boat is nowhere to be found. Lake Jeanne, born in 2004 of hurricane Jeanne, has now expanded to Lake Hanna/Ike, and while most of the waters have receded in the city, she still floods a very large portion of land along what was Route 1.
All in all, however, I was impressed by the amount of work that had been accomplished. (Of course, I’m judging by Haitian standards relevant to available resources.) The most impressive feat was a section of road near the restored market in Bayonnais that had washed out completely; I nearly asked how they got a Caterpillar up there before learning that all the work had been done by hand! Most roads in Gonaives are now operable. Nonetheless, the circumstances are extremely difficult in both locations; both places have a very long way to go and continue to need our support.
My proposed trip in September having been thwarted by Hanna, it was very important for me to return at this time. It had been five months since my departure in May. Friends were pleased to find that I had not forgotten my Kreyol, offering more comments than ever that I am indeed “Haitian.” All reminded me that 6 days was too short, and I agreed, yet somehow they magically went by very slowly. I told everyone why I could not stay this fall, and I uncomfortably received too much applause for deciding to pursue medicine. Leaving Haiti I felt a very profound and unexpected peace, a peace that I am simply not supposed to be living there right now. As much as it hurts to be far from where much of my heart resides, it feels right to be in the United States investing in education at this time.
I’ll end with two videos taken by Michel Style, art teacher and photography student who documented a food distribution following Hanna and Ike. He told me that the aid came from Venezuela, but neither police nor UN troops were present to maintain order. Someone simply dropped off the food in a vacant marketplace and let the people have at it. (This first video shows the white truck that delivered the food having difficulty driving in the mud.)
