Yesterday morning, Marcia Borg reported from near the Hatian border:
I am heartbroken for the Haitians. We have talked and prayed with many.
Last night spent time in the hospital. Most people have had something
amputated. It is a pitiful sight. Difficult to share with them, because
they mostly speak Creole and French. Every age group, both genders,
just fill the place up with casts and stumps, dressings and pain.
look lost and devastated.
They are homeless and still don’t know where
their family members are. There are many children here on the street
with one small bag of their life´s belongings and an aunt or neighbor
or friend or brother or sister, etc.
When you ask about their family,
they immediately say, “My father died,” or “My mother died,” and on
and on. Their stories are horrific of grabbing the children and running
for the door when they felt the “shake.” Some made it, and some didn’t.
This morning we saw the same family that we met with last night,
sitting on the corner.
We have been giving out diapers and wipes and pedialyte to the moms
with babies on the street. We can buy those things here. We have been
giving Michael’s stuffed animals to the little ones. They accept them
quickly and draw them in to their chest and hold them in a hug. It is a
small and beautiful comfort.
We have also been buying meals and
handing them out on the street. These are refugees for a time. Most all
of them are looking to escape Haiti and want money for a ride into
Santo Domingo, which is not possible.
One girl we helped last night was crying out in pain and holding her
stomach. She was just sitting on the sidewalk outside of the hospital
along with her sister and some family. It seemed to get worse as we
talked and became unbearable for her. She had told us that her father
had died in the quake and that she hadn’t eaten or drank all day.
ended up carrying her into the hospital and staying with her for a bit.
She became scared in there and refused the pain shot. She went back to
the sidewalk, because she did not want to miss the ride to Santo Domingo
that she thought she was getting. We gave her some pedialyte,
and she was still hurting. We believe the stress was too much to bear
for her last night.
So much grief and loss.
That is one short story of millions, of course.