Matthew 25 News

[bcholmes]

March 19, 2010

Every day emotions rise and fall. In the morning the activity in the house resembles a busy family, albiet a very large busy family. Breakfast is placed buffet style on the counter, and those ready to eat gather around the table for a short grace. A few take advantage of an empty bathroom. Others mix milk for the camp children. There always seems to be someone packing up to go somewhere: back home, to the countryside, to a mobile clinic, or the clinic nextdoor. The Haitian EMT, medical student, and pharmacist arrive. Cell phones ring, plans are made, dishes are washed. There is always some laughter, and teasing, quiet conversation, and continuing knocks on the bathroom doors. The morning mood of the house is usually upbeat, as the day begins.

The other day a woman in the camp went into labor. Everything was going along fine, and there was time to get her to the local hospital where she gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Mom and son returned to camp on Wednesday, and much fuss was made over this little one.

At the same time, Ron, a videographer who’d been working in Haiti on an assignment to film a water purification effort, was on his way home to Canada. A very quiet young man, he would either go out during the day with the water team, or stay behind to do computer work. Now, after packing to leave for good, he purchased some craft items to take home for gifts, and we had a chance to talk. He told me of one request he’d received. It was to ‘choose something beautiful, in Haiti, and take a photo of it.’ He turned his computer around to show me his choice, as he said that he found it difficult to find something. It was a photo of a huge tree at the edge of a field in front of a low stone wall. There was no sign of earthquake damage in the image. He explained that it had been difficult to find something, but he’d enjoyed coming upon the tree, and so it had become his choice.

When word came in that Mom and baby were home, Pat and Ron were going out the door on their way to the airport. I called to them to let them know that they were also welcome to come next door to the camp. It was a happy moment. The baby was sleeping peacefully, and Mom was all smiles. We all just gazed and enjoyed the moment. And then Ron said quietly‟ I was born in a camp just like this. It was in Thailand.” He then asked if he could photograph Mom and baby, and returned to the house for his camera.

A little later, as I waited for cars to be jockeyed to get the van out for the airport run I had about five minutes to talk to Ron. His parents had escaped from Cambodia, where they had been slaves.” Did you ever see the movie The Killing Fields ? “, he asked. ” Yes, I have seen it. It was a difficult movie to watch. In fact we bought it so that our children would know of it.” He said ” I was born in that camp, the one in the movie.″ He then told me that he had been assigned to film the journey of the Olympic Torch on its way to Vancouver. He said that he was with many journalists, and when the earthquake hit Haiti, all of the cell phones began to ring at the same time, as media agencies tried to find journalists to cover the story. “ I knew I didn’t want to do that. I knew I wanted to come as a volunteer. I turned down an assignment, and came with/ /Pure Water for the World as a volunteer”.

Ron had already told us that he was going to be home for a few days, then going to Kuwait, and from there to South Korea. ” I’ve been all over the world – - to more than 30 different countries, and this (what has happened here) is the hardest assignment I have ever had. It was my sister who asked me to film something beautiful. When I said I really couldn’t find anything she said ‘ take pictures of people who are alive’ So I have been doing that.” I wished him well, hugged him, and said goodbye, wishing him a safe journey, and a hope that someday he’d have a chance to travel back to Haiti to see how beautiful it really is. There is always so much activity here, that if that little baby hadn’t given me the chance to get to know this compassionate young man at least a little bit, I would have missed the opportunity. I’m so grateful that I didn’t.

Ron’s parents had escaped slavery in Cambodia, given birth to a child in Thailand, emigrated to Canada to provide him with as he called it ’ a normal upbringing’. And here he was in Haiti to bear witness through his camera lens to the devastation that will affect this nation for generations. War had caused the devastation in his homeland. In fact, organizations that provide prosthetics for amputees have been comparing the need in Haiti to that in Cambodia caused by landmines. By the way I asked Ron how I could view his work, and learned that he has a web site called Ron’s World.

Later that day, the Cultural Committee of the camp held another coloring and drawing party for the kids, and again, rented the sound system. We enjoyed watching the children finish their pictures, and then begin to respond to the music. It was a happy, late afternoon event. As we watched, our friend, Fr. Andrew came by to alert us to the heat in the tents. ” We have all been so focused on rain”, he said, ” that we didn’t warn people about the build up of heat. Haitians are not used to having tents. We lost a baby today in one of our camps. The mother went out to the market woman to buy food, and when she got back to her tent her baby was dead.”

We have since tried to alert as many people as possible about how very rapidly the heat in the tents builds up. Tents are not normally used in Haiti – - not an item they’ve had any experience with here until the disaster. The unfamiliarity led to tragedy. With neighbors so close by – - just two feet away, it must have seemed just fine to leave baby asleep in the tent.

Reuters has a humanitarian service that works with cell phones. Each morning they text a practical piece of information to thousands of signed up cell phone users. Ansel, the reporter in charge of that effort was alerted, so hopefully that baby in Fr. Andrew’s camp will be the last one to die in an overheated tent. .

The children’s part of evening did end on a much happier note however, as the Cultural Committee held rice sack races, and a musical chairs competition. There was enthusiastic encouragement for everyone who participated. At the suggestion of Kyle, a young American man staying here, we’re now trying to figure out a way to teach them the game Duck Duck Goose. But I think the only way we’ll be able to do that is for all of us Americans to demonstrate it. I think all of the Haitians will enjoy the opportunity to laugh at us.

The music lasted until about 9 :30 PM. The camp quieted down, and we and most of the other M25 guests wandered off to our tents. About an hour later we heard a great commotion from the camp. Male and female voices were yelling and screaming. Apparently there had been a domestic dispute which ended in a stabbing. The woman involved stabbed her boyfriend with a knife. Dr. Balfour went out and did first aid, but advised that the man be brought to the hospital for x-rays. The camp committee had called the police, and they took the man to the hospital, and the woman to the police station. Although the situation was controlled throughout, it must have been frightening for children to hear it all. They had had such a happy afternoon and evening.

I guess that in the beginning of any situation such as a natural disaster people are in shock at first, moving in a kind of daze attempting to regain some semblance of their lives. There is no time or energy left to think of anything but finding food, shelter, and medical care. However, all of the problems that a family has put aside in order to concentrate on survival still exist. Now thesse things that have been festering all along are beginning to surface. They are coupled by the close living quarters. Shared quarters, with no more that a foot or so of space between you and another family. Often two familys sharing a tent. Schools are closed, and children no longer have a routine, and become difficult to control. All of it adds tension.

TRYING ANOTHER TACK WITH CATHOLIC RELIEF SERVICES

Deciding to play the ” nun ” card, Sr. Mary phoned the person in charge at Catholic Relief Services to try to get some food for the camp. This was last Thursday. She told him that she was a Roman Catholic Sister, and that she worked for the Haiti Parish Twinning Program, a registered Catholic organization working in Haiti, and that she was assisting a camp that needed food. She was told by the gentleman on the phone that he was the only person who could authorize a food shipment, and that he was going out of town for a couple of days. Her response : ” You’re the only one who can authorize food allocations, and your going out of town for the weekend”? ” Unfortunately yes”, he responded, and requested that she make an appointment for Monday morning, which she did.

Promptly at 11:00 that morning Sr. Mary, Tay, the camp president, and Germain, the vice president, arrived at the CRS gate which was immediately opened for her. She walked in and then realized that the gate had been closed behind her, and the Haitians barred from entering. She complained, and told the gate keeper that they were with her. This is yet another incident of Haitians not even being allowed to help themselves because they have no access to anything. The three then walked past the new cars, and into the air conditioned office, where they were told that no food would be allocated to them at that time because CRS had to first know how much it cost to feed a family. ” You’ve worked in Haiti for years now”, she said,” why don’t you have this information”?

Fortunately Sr. Mary had the information because we had just purchased food some food for the camp. They came back to M25, and telephoned back with the information. They were told that our camp might receive some food by the end of the week. The end of the week is here, and now they say, maybe next week.

ENTER THE PALESTINIANS

The night before last a tall, very attractive, blonde woman came to the gate to see us. We were surprised to hear the Irish lilt in her voice when we saw she was wearing a vest that had the logo of a Palestinian charitable organization. I know she gave me the name, but just now I can’t find where I wrote it. ”Does your camp need food”, she asked. Sr. Mary told her that we certainly did. “I don’t think we can give you too much”, she said,” but we have some, and will bring it tomorrow afternoon.”

Well, yesterday afternoon came, and went, and no food arrived. We thought that maybe the Palestinians had joined CRS, when at about 8 :00 PM she arrived at the gate apologizing that their truck had broken a fan belt, and that they would be back tomorrow.

MARCH 18, 2010

Evenings are much less upbeat than mornings. People are tired. It is so very difficult to get even the least little thing accomplished. The traffic, sometimes daunting at rush hours in normal times, is often nearly impossible to navigate now. Huge dump trucks, military vehicles, tanks, NGO cars and SUVs, pick up trucks, UN busses, trucks, and private cars. There is the ever present sight of dust, rubble, and poverty. Traveling throughout the area one is constantly visually assaulted with collapsed buildings : homes, schools, churches, stores. You know that people died in many of them, and some of them have become tombs. Passing demolition sites where workman are breaking up the rubble by hand, I say a prayer for the lost ones. Once in a while you sometimes see a small group of people watching the effort. They must be family members hoping for the recovery of a loved one’s body. I know that they still often find the remains of victims who never got out. So as people return each night to our guest house it takes some time to decompress from the day. People share accomplishments, frustrations, plans for the following day, as slowly the day’s images fade into the background somewhat.

Earlier in the day Pat had to drive a patient to Double Harvest, the small surgical hospital located about a 45 minute drive away under normal conditions. The first part of the trip took over an hour. The last leg of the journey was a dirt road that had become a quagmire. After getting stuck, and rescued by some young men, he gave up and turned back toward home.

The rain had lasted all of the previous night, and turned the ground into a sea of mud. I know that people in the camps had to have spent the entire day trying to get dried out, but it was overcast all day, so everything remained damp, and muddy.

The bright spot of the night was later though, when true to her word, our new Irish friend, Casimbre, who works with the Palestinians, arrived with 45 cartons of rice, beans, vegetable oil, and dried fish. We hadn’t had to fill out a form, provide proof of food costs, or anything else. They were simply distributing food to people who needed it.

As we were unloading the truck I realized that I could hear a number of languages being spoken. I tried to count them, and was sure I heard French, English, Spanish, Portugese, and Creole. It was simply people in the house coupled with those unloading the truck. We seem to be an ever changing League of Nations here, as well as all over Haiti. Once about a month ago a driver from here was given directions to the Israeli Field Hospital by some Jordanians.

As we carried in the last box I thought of Ron, the videographer returning home to visit his Cambodian parents before leaving for Kuwait. I wouldn’t be surprised if I learned that there were people in Haiti from Kuwait also. After all, the dried fish the Palestinians had brought to us had been a gift to their organization from some fisherman in Trinadad !