On That Day, Everybody Ate
Page 14
Five days after the earthquake, Lavarice arrived at the St. Clare’s rectory with the first of many truckloads of canned food and bottled water. He had flown into the Dominican Republic, which shares the island of Hispaniola with Haiti, and with the help of another nonprofit, the Zakat Foundation, was able to get relief supplies across the border and into the neighborhood. When the truck pulled off the main road and started the steep climb to the rectory, hundreds of people, desperate with hunger and thirst, followed. Even though Tiplas Kazo is just a few miles from the Port-au-Prince airport and the residents had seen plane after plane land, this was the first aid that had reached them.
At my home in Berkeley, I felt a million miles away. Part of me longed to be at St. Clare’s working alongside Lavarice and the whole team. Another part wasn’t sure I could handle it. And I knew I was needed the most at my desk, helping spread the word and raising money. Caitlin Szymanski, the What If? Foundation’s assistant director, and I worked long hours fielding calls, responding to e-mails, and sending out updates. A beautiful outpouring of compassion and donations gave the What If? Foundation the resources needed to pay for truckload after truckload of food and water.
Our ten-year partnership with the St. Clare’s community had prepared us for this moment. Since the food program was Haitian-run and already in place, we were able to respond immediately. Some NGOs not rooted in Haitian communities were criticized for slow and ineffective distribution of aid. We made many attempts to link with large relief organizations in hope that they would share supplies we could distribute to the thousands of people coming to the rectory searching for help. But our efforts only resulted in dead ends and frustration.
Daily phone calls from Lavarice kept us connected to the devastating reality. In one urgent call, he told us:
No one can be here without crying. Everyone is suffering. So many hurt. So many dead. So many without food and water. There’s nothing. Everyone is waiting. We are the first group to be able to provide any relief to the St. Clare’s area. The need is so great… There are babies—five months, two months, two weeks old. We’ve brought supplies to their mothers. We will help as many people as God gives us the opportunity to help. Please thank everyone who is supporting the What If? Foundation. Without them we would not be able to respond in this way.
Dozens of strong aftershocks rumbled through Port-au-Prince, shaking the rectory and the entire city. No one felt safe under a roof, so the distribution of canned goods took place in the rectory yard. Eventually the aftershocks subsided, and shoring up tremendous courage, the food program’s twenty-six cooks walked back into the kitchen. They had served meals through the dangerous months following the coup d’état in 2004, after hurricanes and the 2008 global rice-price crisis, and in the midst of their grief for Fr. Gerry’s passing, and now they were determined to make sure that those who were hungry and suffering from the earthquake received hot meals prepared with love.
The cooking team picked up their cutting knives, peelers, pots, and pans, fired up the stoves, and spooned plate after plate of rice, beans, and vegetables—as before the earthquake. But now the number of children and adults had doubled from 1,500 each weekday to 3,000 or more.
When I went to Port-au-Prince in April 2010, I couldn’t wait to see Manmi Dèt and Nennenn. We sat in straw chairs outside Nennenn’s home, next to the little pool where I’d swum in my muumuu. Now the pool was cracked and empty. Nennenn poured me a cup of café au lait and asked about my husband, Tom, who I married in 2002, and Luke, who was now seventeen years old. She translated my answers to Manmi Dèt, who listened eagerly. We reminisced about the food program and how it and the What If? Foundation had grown over the years. Nennenn told me about her job at a school lunch program that distributed thousands of meals each day for students throughout Port-au-Prince. She was extremely busy, as students were just starting to return to school. Many of the school buildings had been damaged or destroyed in the earthquake, so classes were taking place under open-air temporary structures.
As we talked in the shade, sweat dripping down our necks, I noticed how much both Manmi Dèt and Nennenn’s faces had aged since my visit the previous year. I asked them about the day of the earthquake. Manmi Dèt took my hand and held it in her lap. Nennenn looked off into the distance and a haunted expression washed over her face.
“The ground became a wave and it knocked me over. When I opened my eyes, the sky was black with dust and smoke.” Nennenn spoke slowly and softly, sadness permeating each word. “I was near the Presidential Palace when it happened. I called my sister, Nérie, who was working close by, and we somehow found each other in the chaos. We were covered with dust and terrified, but we were alive. It took us many hours to walk home.”
Nennenn closed her eyes and shook her head. “You can’t imagine, Margo. You saw it on television, but it was so much worse. All around us people were dying, screaming with terrible injuries. I still pass every night with horror nightmares of people crying.”
Nennenn took a deep breath and continued, tears welling up in her eyes. “Some of my friends died.… It’s so hard, so sad, but what can we do? We have to go on and do the best we can.”
We hugged good-bye for a long time in the yard. A rooster crowed and the palm branches swayed with a warm breeze, reminding me of the summer I lived there with Luke and all they had taught me about life and faith. And now, with the challenges magnified hundredfold, I wondered how much more the people of Haiti could bear, how much louder the St. Jude prayer would need to be sung.
The next day, I worked at the rectory, standing at the kitchen window helping place plate after plate of hot, delicious food in the hands of children. The line seemed endless, stretching through the rectory yard and out into the street. Chests pressed against backs, the children kept rounding the corner. Older brothers and sisters held the hands of younger siblings. Mothers carried their toddlers, dusty, hot, and tired from sleeping on the ground. The weight of what they’d been through showed in their eyes, which were often listless. I worried that the three- and four-year olds might drop their heavy plates as they climbed up the stairs to the tables. But not one did.
That day at the rectory, I missed Fr. Gerry so much. But I felt his presence in the love pouring out of the kitchen and in the sounds of spoons scraping plates. I could almost hear his voice encouraging all the cooks, greeting the children, and whispering “piti piti na rive” in my ear.
It’s been nine months since the earthquake. Astonishingly, despite the billions of dollars pledged for reconstruction, very little positive change has taken place in Port-au-Prince. When I visited this past April, I didn’t see one bulldozer at work, not one piece of heavy lifting equipment in action. Instead I saw Haitian citizens clearing bits and pieces of concrete with their hands and using wheelbarrows to move debris to the side of the road. To date, only 2 percent of the rubble has been removed. According to Lavarice, the city looks about the same as it did right after the earthquake. One and a half million people continue to live in tents or under tarps with no information on when or how they will be able to move into safe shelter.
Despite the destruction and suffering surrounding the St. Clare’s community, the determination and faith of the people remain unwavering. The food and education programs continue week after week. Meals are being served, the summer camp just ended, children are being enrolled in school, and the after-school program is about to begin.
Recently we learned that as a result of the earthquake, the St. Clare’s rectory building is needed for housing and may become a new seminary location. So, in the months ahead, the programs will relocate onto land a mile away that the What If? Foundation has purchased. The new property is large enough to hold the food program, as well as the neighborhood school that Fr. Gerry envisioned years ago, and perhaps even a small medical clinic and garden.
Much still needs to be done. Sometimes I worry about the vast number of details and how everything will be paid for. But when I look back over the last
ten years and how we’ve gone from serving 500 to 15,000 meals a week, I remember what I’ve learned from my Haitian friends about the power of small steps and of many hands. Men anpil chay pa lou— Many hands make the load lighter. This encourages me to have faith and remain open to possibilities.
What if?
Acknowledgments
I wish to thank the many loving, generous people in my life who helped make this story and this book possible, including:
Fr. Gérard Jean-Juste, for his daily example of faith, hope, and love. His courage and commitment to serve those in need, working tirelessly for social justice, are a constant source of inspiration. The privilege of our friendship and partnership continues to be one of the greatest blessings of my life.
Manmi Dèt, Nennenn, and all the members of the Dépestre family, for welcoming me “home,” taking such good care of Luke, Paul, and me during our visits, and giving their hearts to the food program.
Cloraine Dorissant, Roselie, Jean-Marie Noel, Katty, Ber-gomy, Berthony, Carlo, Jean-Claudel, Wadner Pierre, Porfil, Sonn, Sanon, Michel, Toto, and the dozens of other members of the St. Clare’s community in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, who day in and day out have made the food and education programs possible through their courage and dedication.
Barbara Gates, this book’s midwife, for her loving kindness and gifts as a writer and editor, which helped me find and trust my voice.
Arnie Kotler at Koa Books, for his belief in this book and giving it flight through his editing expertise, gentle guidance, and collaboration.
My parents, Frederick and Louise Trost, for their unconditional love and lifelong example of putting faith into action. My siblings, Marianne, Christine, Paul, and Sarah, their spouses, Adam, Douglas, Shelly, and John, and children, Grace, Reed, Simon, and Clare, for their love and friendship and the great joy we share as a family.
Bryan Sirchio and the Ministry of Money’s “Reverse Mission” program, for leading me to Haiti that first, life-changing time.
The Wisconsin Conference of the United Church of Christ for the original gift of $5,000.
The What If? Foundation Board of Directors, for their support and guidance over the years—Carolyn Betz, Sara Buscher, Bob Ferguson, Bob Fisher, Bonnie Paulson, Bryan Sirchio, Pat Stevens, and Frederick Trost.
The What If? Foundation donors, for their trust in me and support of the Foundation, making it possible to fund the food and education programs at St. Clare’s.
Limor Inbar, Pamela Keenan, Grace Maina, Audrey Raya, Caitlin Szymanski, Andrea Wolf, and Sara Wolf, for providing such wonderful, heartful assistance in the What If? Foundation office.
The many people who read the manuscript along the way, offering valuable feedback and encouragement, including Johanna Berrigan, Dr. Walter Brueggemann, Brian Concannon, Ketty Dépestre, Dr. Paul Farmer, Leslie Fleming, Bishop Thomas Gumbleton, Fr. Jean-Juste, Barbara Lagoni, Marilyn Langlois, Jody Parsons, Lorisa Schouela, Kristelle Sim, Thara Srinivasan, Gay Thomas, Loune Viaud, Julie Ann Weiss, and Robin Woodland.
Ayelet Maida, who made the book design so beautiful, Wadner Pierre for his sensitive photos, Mark Rhynsburger for his superb copy editing and proofreading, and publicist Lorna Garano, for her help with spreading the word.
My Shaklee family, for their support every step of the way and patience while I put my business on hold to complete the manuscript.
Lavarice Gaudin and the many other angels who have come into my life and offered their assistance so generously, including Rita Hagen Aleman, Francine Delica, James and Deby Fellowes, Marjorie Fine, Anne Hastings and Fonkoze, Carla Lamothe, Bill Quigley, Steven Rahn, Mirari Romero, Katherine Salazar-Poss, Irene Scully, and Tina Thomson.
My extraordinary son, Luke, wise beyond his years, who brings me such joy and enriches my life every day. I feel so blessed to be his mother.
And finally, my incredible husband, Toma, “my anchor and my kite,” whose love and partnership bring immeasurable peace and happiness into my life. It was his idea to write my experience down and his faith in me that helped me believe I could do it.
What If? Foundation
The What If? Foundation is a nonprofit 501(c)(3) charitable organization dedicated to providing hope and opportunity to impoverished children in Haiti.
Programs supported by the What If? Foundation in partnership with members of the St. Clare’s community of Port-au-Prince, Haiti include a food program, school scholarships, and a summer camp.
For more information about the What If? Foundation or to make a donation, please visit www.whatiffoundation.org or write to:
What If? Foundation
1563 Solano Avenue, #192
Berkeley, CA 94707
Koa Books publishes works on personal transformation, social issues, and native cultures.
Please visit www.koabooks.com for a full list of recent and forthcoming titles.
Koa Books
P.O. Box 822
Kihei, Hawai’i 96753
www.koabooks.com