Inexpressible Expressions
I remember one time I was in Haiti helping out a friend on a remote medical mission and emailing back home after an intense few days to say that "I wished I could have just swallowed my eyes so I would not have to see any more." Today, with that same sensory overload happening, "I wished I could have pushed a button and had my ears turn inside out" to stop the possibility of having to hear another word." It could have been called the PWP Haitian staff meeting, but for 3 hours this afternoon it was more like a bizarre piggy back of horror story after horror story as our teachers shared their earthquake experiences.
We decided to hold a reflection circle which is method where people meet in a circle and share their ideas and thoughts about a presented topic. We use this method in all our literacy classes to promote democratic, respectful dialogue. I thought it would be good for our staff to have a chance to just tell their personal story of how the earthquake affected their lives. Since all of our staff live in the North and there was no structural damage here, I fully expected them all to have a story (all of our teachers are women and we all know women like to talk and will always jump at the chance to talk) but I did not expect them to all have such mind numbing, heart smashing downloads of what has obviously been stuffed somewhere for weeks. Yes, I'm sure they have all talked with other family members about what happened, but the type of things they have been expose to has an impact on the psyche that I fear the more it is talked about, the more it mushrooms into a volcanic unleashing of emotions that continue to build from one talk session to another. Today was as powerful as that earthquake in many ways.
Every person, even the shy ones told of family and friends who died, were still missing in the rubble, and detailed stories they gathered from those who survived It was as simple as shivery voices saying "my sister is still in the bank that crashed", "my cousin lived for two days and when a neighbor pulled him out a big piece of cement fell on his head and he died in their presence", "my brother in law died and his wife was not home -she is still wondering in Port au Prince trying to find her two children" - and, with no smooth transition we would be catapulted into detailed renditions that were actually more hideous than the previous two or three stories. We would sit there with this stoic silence -the kind that winter trees have -you know in winter when you see the trees standing, so dead looking even though you know life is in there somewhere - and we listened to things like "my friend stayed for two days fully exposed with his arm trapped. After two days he took a knife from his pocket and tried to saw through his arm. He did some but didn't have the strength to continue. He called two people to help him. They seemed like zombies (probably because they were suffering some kind of trauma of their own) to him and he kept trying until someone came with an actual carpenter saw and cut his arm off. They got him up and tied off his arm. He wandered the street bleeding and crying for help. Finally someone took him to a food station and they put him in a tent. That is the last he remembers until he woke up with no arm in a hospital tent. When he stopped bleeding and they told him to go. He found a taptap heading north and someone took him on board and he is now in Cap-Haitian with a family member.", "my student told me she spent her whole life investing in her son. Her whole family invested in her son. He was her only child. He was in his 5th year of medical school in Port au Prince. He died in the building. Who am I now? A mother without a son's body to bury? A mother who allowed her only son to ride the big machine to the big hole in the ground they say is a cemetery? I am no longer a mother. I am no longer alive. I am not a survivor." Then the teacher of this student said she found this lady the next day running naked on the main road screaming that she had nothing -kill me! kill me! kill me! The teacher said she has no mind left now.
Take a check of how long it took you to read the few accounts above and then imagine adding the time to that that would equal 3 hours. It was so difficult and so necessary. I will say that we moved out of that 3 hours into the 4th hour that was one where we all tried to figure out where we go as a team from here. In a nutshell, we decided to think about the ideas that were proposed and try to make some final decisions when we meet again on Tuesday. We are keeping the program open, but all feel we may need to suspend formal teaching because everyone said that their students (which are all adults of all ages) are in such bad mental states that they can't concentrate very well now. So they will continue to meet and provide reflection circle meetings and moral support and encouragement until they sense that it is time to move forward. They all know this will be a fine line to know when to cross and if they don't determine when this time is, they feel people may recover mentally from this catastrophe. We will likely be pushing the graduation for 2009/2010 students ahead to accommodate the time that it will take for people to heal.
Our teachers also decided we will spend Saturday shopping in the local markets to help the local vendors who are all taking care of more people. We will purchase hygiene items, sheets, underclothing etc. and make care packages to take to the hospital on Sunday. We were going to cook food and take meals, but the teachers said there is more need for the other items at this time. I told them this is exactly what we all need to do. Use our common sense and wisdom to do the most with the little we have. We will gage how much this costs and decide how many more times we will be able to contribute to the hospital overload in this fashion. This will send a fantastic signal to other small groups like ours that "YES WE CAN DO SOMETHING."
One incredible thing that was expressed was the solidarity they felt just because I came. When Toto told them I was coming they said they couldn't believe it. Any Haitian who had a passport has left the country long ago. Any Haitian that could possibly get a passport would be gone tout suit as well. Hundreds of Haitians are secretly planning to load up on boats to escape or take their chance trying to get into the Dominican any way they can. So, to see a person actually coming to Haiti that is not a paid person on an International Aid group or the UN or Army is something no one ever expected to see. They unanimously - almost fiercely - concurred that "only the God of love could join us like this." Everything in me wanted to flee from that overwhelming declaration and the impending responsibility that inevitably now link us (PWP) in a titanium grip.
At the same time, I know PWP is right where we are supposed to be.
Peace,
Julie
P.S. I am also thinking about what will happen to a nation that has lost all of it's institutions of higher learning which were all in Port au Prince, coupled with the fact that with the government buildings and agencies able to produce passports and visas now collapsed so anyone wanting to pursue a professional degree has no option.
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Posted on Thursday, February 4 2010, at 4:31 PM.