Stacey Hume is an upcoming World Racer that just returned from Haiti. She gives her take on the state of the Haitians…
In the gray, whispy clouds glancing off of the plane’s wings, the dark brown earth snuck out momentarily between the flashes. As if the island was trying to hide its devastation. But suddenly, the clouds parted. And there it was. That was the first time I saw Haiti.
As we got closer to landing, even the mountains hid their faces from me in a billowing blackness. But as soon as the plane’s wheels hit the earth. There could be no covering it. Haiti was broken. I gasped for air when noticing that even the airport had fracture lines running the length of the building, exposing holes into hallways and beyond.
There are no words to describe Haiti. There can be no photograph to capture it. The best that I can do is tell you that it is chaos.
This was a Catholic Church that held mass for thousands.
This was a home. That held a family. And somewhere beneath, it still does.
Now all that is left are some shaky foundations and piles of dust and rubble not even fit enough to become aggregate for new concrete. It’s madness.
Hundred of thousands of people are living in tents made from stick and sheets. These fort like constructions you would think a child would make in an afternoon off, are homes to entire families. They are everywhere. In street medians, flood plains, on top of fallen houses and apartment buildings.
Port Au Prince smells like burning trash and rotting sugar cane and car exhaust. It comes off in dark smoky waves from street corners where the people gather and light off their waste, because there is nothing else to do with it. This “poisonous potpourri,” as Dr. Raspa calls it, contains all sorts of plastic and harmful fumes. But there is nothing else to be done. The waterways are clogged with debris, and it chokes off the supply. And when the rainy season comes, a whole new batch of problems will arise from the lack of shelter and constant flooding.
But don’t write Haiti off just yet. There is one thing that is contrary to the chaos. It is the people. They are far from hopeless. They do not cry “Oh, woe is me.” They are getting to work. By the hundreds they take to the streets with brooms and shovels, cleaning and clearing the debris. They walk around in immaculately clean clothes, floating above the mess. Not a stain on their shirts, not a tear in their eye. They are hopeful. And the children are still children. They haven’t lost their joy or ability to forgive. This earthquake hasn’t stolen their innocence or childhood. They run and play and giggle and laugh in defiance of it all. God is everywhere you look.
