On Feb. 27, 2010 I arrived in Haiti, after the catastrophic earthquake there, accompanying my nephew David who was bringing help to an orphanage where he had worked. Yesterday I found a journal I had kept and here share excerpts.
The initial encounter with Haiti is a shock to the senses. Even before the plane lands, one is struck by the terrain: barren, treeless, dusty, rocky, dotted with small shacks of rusting tin. Baggage claim entails pushing through a crowd to a small window in chaos and inefficiency. Material scarcity all around; but most of all the people!
Ah, the people! The beautiful people! Especially the children! This is an uplift for the spirit and a consolation to the distressed senses. How can there be so many beautiful faces? Jet black, smooth skin; bright, shining teeth; deep-set eyes that gaze with attention, interest, curiosity, a serenity suggestive of innocence, resignation and a readiness for affection. We are surrounded by perhaps 50 children watching us intently, as if a spacecraft had landed in an elementary school playground. Each face is striking: one as beautiful as the next. Where am I? In a desert of scarcity? Or a paradise of loveliness? This is not the world, the earth I know! It is a hell of human want and suffering...and a heaven of childlike innocence and faith.
Saturday morning mass in the cathedral is enlivened by sweet, harmonious song. More than a taste of heaven. I find myself thinking constantly of heaven: so sparse here are earthly hopes and possibilities that the soul looks fervently beyond, to the afterlife, that is not so far away.
The mass in Haiti is essentially the same mass anywhere: Word announced, songs, petitions, the Eucharistic sacrifice and communion. The priest is impressive: handsome, confident, joyful. The 200 children, most under 10 years of age, are composed and attentive. Very few receive communion; it seems most have not yet been prepared for first communion. A tone of reverence and peace predominates. The language is French but the music has an African beat. Haitians love to sing, especially in Church. They do so with joy, buoyancy, and rhythm. Extreme scarcity, lack of jobs and opportunity, meagre chances for improvement...and what do they do? They sing!
At the orphanage, the remarkable founder, Jean Louis, shows us around with a warm and respectful hospitality. It is very humbling. Around 200 children play around the dusty, rocky compound; but the overall peacefulness and quiet is striking. The chaplain, Xaverian Brother Michael McCarthy describes the place as a haven for otherwise destitute children. He worries that there is no follow-up or path forward for older children as they leave this still-young orphanage: no jobs, no economy, no opportunities. But there is still heaven, I keep thinking.
Students of all ages are passionately motivated to study and learn. At 4 AM one hears sounds of rote memorization by a group of students gathered under a solitary street lamp. Their belief is that education is the one path to a better life. But the truth is that 1 % of them will graduate college; and for this select group there are no jobs. Again, I think, at least there is heaven!
As guest instructor in morning English class of 35 students, I am stunned by their focus, attentiveness and respect. It is with all their strength and all their soul and all their heart that they desire to learn English. We read the Gospel in English and their questions are profoundly spiritual and theological: What does it mean to "see the speck in the other's eye?" How do we give pearls to swine? Do the righteous get to heaven? Does God forgive all sins, even sexual sins by one who knows what the Bible teaches? What is the Resurrection like? I find myself teaching basic Catechism truths with certainty and joy.
A student states that God's forgiveness of sin requires our firm purpose of amendment. I heartily agree and say that in our weakness we need to call upon God's mercy to truly repent. Then I fall on my knees dramatically, squint my face, and fervently, slowly plead "Help me O God. I want to be good. But I need your help." They laugh with delight.
More memories from Haiti to follow in subsequent blog posts.
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