Haiti

There is a Haitian proverb that says, “What the eye does not see does not touch the heart.” Before I went to Haiti, I admittedly took some offense to this saying. It seemed to be implying that I couldn’t care about people I had never met, that I couldn’t love them or have compassion for them. Now, after spending mere days in Haiti, I think I am beginning to understand.

Before going to Haiti, I could say that I had compassion for Haitians; I could say that they are my brothers and sisters and I could mean it. However, I did so from the safety of my very comfortable life, I did so while doing nothing to better their existence. Only someone who has not witnessed the poverty and sickness and hunger of Haiti firsthand could care for and love these people from afar and yet do nothing to touch them – do nothing to alleviate their suffering.

Many things in Haiti touched my heart, but none so much as Reglena. Reglena is a little girl I met at the Missionary of Charities facility in Port-au-Prince. I was drawn to Reglena as an expressionless little girl with big brown eyes. As she lay in her crib in a room full of back-to-back cribs, she was one of a few children not crying. Upon first glance, I thought Reglena was maybe two years old. She was old enough at least to hoist herself to a sitting position when her nanny handed her a glass of water. After she finished her water, I leaned down to her, my arms out-stretched, and let her eagerly crawl into them.. the arms of a strange blah (white) woman whom she had never met.

Reglena resting comfortably on my hip weighed less than twenty pounds. Once I held her secure, I grabbed a hold of the wristband she was wearing so that I could learn her name. The white hospital band rested on a wrist that seemed very small, it was maybe the diameter of a fifty-cent piece. It read: Reglena 5 yrs.

Reglena was 5 years old and smaller than my 19 month old niece back home. But unlike my niece, Reglena wasn’t full of smiles and movement, talking and dancing. Reglena was more like a puppet, willing to go wherever I moved her, vacant of emotion. Reglena was barely able to hold herself up not because she had an illness, but simply because she was malnourished.

In an instant, I held Reglena, thought of my healthy niece, and started to cry. Today I cry because I know that my words cannot do her justice; they fail to convey her beauty, her frailty, her innocence.

In that moment, I knew that Reglena had touched my heart. Indeed, she broke my heart in a way she never would have had I not seen her myself.. if I hadn’t felt her cling to my arms when I tried setting her down not twenty minutes later, if I hadn’t seen her finally start to loosen up and giggle as she buried her head in my chest in glee when I figured out how to muster any emotion out of her. It was peek-a-boo that did it; made her laugh and smile. Because you see, Haitian children are not so very different than our own. The only real difference, the only one that matters, is that more of them, tons of them, die daily of completely curable diseases.. they die daily because they don’t have enough food to eat or clean water to drink.

It’s interesting that despite the suffering in Haiti there is almost no incidence of suicide. This is because Haitians, in their soul, are full of life. They love to sing and dance. They are deeply faithful and have a profound respect for community and family. Haitians are joyful and gracious, they are kind and generous. They are so full of life while at the same time they are dying of TB, aids, cholera, malaria, dehydration, and malnutrition.

It is easy to get overwhelmed. It is east to think: there is too much suffering in the world, too much pain, where do I start? How do I start? I went to Mass in Haiti and in his sermon Fr. Tom reminded us of the story of the Apostle Thomas seeing the Risen Christ for the first time. As we remember, when Thomas sees Christ and touches his wounds he exclaims, “My Lord and my God.” Fr. Tom reminded us that that’s what the Eucharist is all about: that we are the body of Christ and that Christ is within each of us. And so, when the suffering in the world seems like too much and you feel powerless, the first thing you do is look to the person nearest to you in that moment and say to yourself, “My Lord and my God”. It’s as if you are saying: “there you are, my Lord, in my spouse, there you are in my children, there you are in my friends, my neighbors, my peers, my co-workers, my enemies.. there you are, God, within even me.” Once we begin to see God within each other, we can try to do other small things within our reach.

In Haiti, I spent a morning in a wound clinic run by the Sisters of the Missionaries of Charity. I have no medical background and yet there was much I could do. I spent thirty minutes on the floor trying to match pill containers to their lids. You see, each Saturday one to two hundred adults and children come to see the Sisters to receive free medicines for their ailments; cough syrup, fever medicine, vitamins, antibiotics, scabies medication, dehydration medication, worms medication. The medication tablets are handed out in envelopes folded out of magazines. The liquids are dispensed in used pill containers donated from different groups of volunteers. Wounds, burns, cuts and other abrasions are wrapped in strips of cloth cut out of used bed sheets.

And so, what can I do? I can save my empty pill containers and used sheets for starters. I can ask you to save yours. That may not seem like enough (and truly, it’s not) but, it’s a start.. it’s an acknowledgment that somewhere out there, another is hurting. It’s a step towards healing.

Haiti is a mere one hour and forty minute plane ride from our shore. It is truly a beautiful country full of life, joy and hope. It is a joy and hope that also touches the heart. It is a joy and hope to be envied.

In a way, we are all very much like the Apostle Thomas who did not believe in the Risen Christ until he had seen it with his own eyes. This is true because in a very real sense, “what the eye does not see does not touch the heart”. And yet, Jesus responds, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” Blessed are they who consider our Haitian brothers and sisters, who consider the Reglena’s of the world, and think, “My Lord and my God” there you are… even when they have not seen them face to face. Blessed are they, because truly God is amidst the Haitian people, of that I have no doubt.

(If you are interested in donating empty pill containers or bed sheets please respond to this post).