Going Through The Motions

January 13, 2010 

Helicopters fly low overhead and even the noise of their rotors makes me cringe. Everyone is skittish. We’ve felt so many aftershocks I’ve lost count. My body is on red alert. Nothing sinks in. Survival. It’s come down to that. I don’t let Jayden out of my sight and every shake and quiver I grab him and we run outside. The stress is taking a toll on Jayden. “Walls fall down,” he says. “Rocks fall down. Big mess.” He sounds like a broken record, repeating the same sentences over and over again. Loud noises scare him and he clings to me. 

What to do? The house is still a mess and needing to do something, I slowly start cleaning things up. Denise comes and helps me, even though I tell her she doesn’t need too. “Just a little work,” she says. “We will just clean up a little.” Although still frightened that walls will cave in any second, the normality of just cleaning and organizing helps. I slowly calm down and even allow Jayden to have a nap in his own room. He’s exhausted and sleeping in a pack and play in the middle of the house, just doesn’t work. Thankfully while he sleeps, I don’t feel any tremors. 

Neighbors who’ve driven down Delmas show us pictures of what they’ve seen. Bodies lying alongside the streets, some covered in sheets and some not. Crowds of people just walking and walking, either searching for loved ones, or just not knowing where else to go. The pictures of the Caribbean market where we normally shop for groceries are horrific. Twisted metal shopping carts, pieces of the checkout counter, and all other un-identifiable objects in one heaping pile of rubble. The store is always packed and we shop there every week, we could have even been there that moment, since we often shop after Jason is finished work. The thought is sobering. Even the security wall that fell down on the side of our house could have been a lot more serious. An hour earlier three little boys were playing right alongside that wall. Nicholas, Sabboule and Jayden. If the earthquake had hit an hour earlier they could have been under all the rubble. 

I shake my head as if to clear away those thoughts. God is still in control and spending time worrying about “what ifs” is useless. Jason spends some time trying to fix the more serious problems with the house. During the earthquake our two big bottles of Propane used to power our stove had fallen over, snapping the line. Our hot water tank had also fallen over breaking the water line there. The security wall that collapsed not only made our home easily accessible for anyone it also burst the water line running through it in various places. After working for awhile, Jason realizes the damage is too great for him to be able to fix. The tools and supplies he needs just aren’t available either. So we are left with no stove and no running water. City power will be off indefinitely, so we are thankful that our solar panels will bring enough power in to run the bare necessities. 

No gas for vehicles and no diesel for our generator, makes the situation even more difficult. With Caribbean Market completely devastated and substantial damages to Eagle our grocery supply has been caught off. No drinking water, no food, how much longer can we live this way? Thankfully, we have about 20 Gallons of drinking water stored in our depot room and a clay urn that we can use to filter dirty water to make it drinkable. The food issue is not as easily resolved since I have no way to cook anything. Only a couple slices of bread left, and a few snacks. One of the other MAF families gives us a half a loaf of bread to add to our supply, but everyone has a family that needs to eat. 

Still suffering from shock Jason and I have no appetite whatsoever, and just grab a small bite to eat here and there, the bare necessities to keep us going. Jayden however eats well, something for which I am thankful. 

Jason spends the afternoon helping people at the orphanage I used to help out at with the weekly feeding program. Basically they’ve turned the boy’s home into a hospital and treat as many people off the street as they can. At 5:00 all MAF families get together for an emergency meeting. At the meeting I hear that Daniel, one of MAF’s national staff that works at the hanger is presumed dead. I can’t believe it. Daniel is my age, 24 years old and has helped us out a lot culturally and running errands with us. I liked him, he was our friend. He was a strong believer and planned to be a missionary in Jeremie after he married. When the earthquake struck he was in a class at a university that collapsed. An eye witness says they saw him fall and nothing has been heard or seen from him since. 

Mark Williams tries to comfort us to say that he’s in a much better place now, but I just can’t comprehend that he’s gone. Three of the other MAF national staff have not been reached by phone, but cell phone service is almost non- existent. They all lived very close to the center of the quake and we pray that they are okay. As we go over emergency procedures, the three storey concrete home we are in starts to quake once again. Everyone instantly jumps up and runs down the stairs out onto the street. After this we don’t feel comfortable meeting inside and get some folding chairs and put them in a circle in the middle of the rocky, dead end street. 

At the end of the street, there is a giant ravine full of small concrete shacks. As night falls, we see candles and hear people singing and praising God. I’ve never met an atheist in Haiti. Although many suffer from all kinds of superstitions, they all believe there is a GOD, who is in control of the entire universe. They aren’t interested in scientific explanations of how earthquakes occur. “God moved the earth.” They don’t question or are angry. They sing and praise Him. I feel a shiver crawl up my spine just watching and listening. Even in the midst of this destruction, God is present, and I can feel Him. 

I shift my attention back to the meeting and find everyone comparing notes of how much food supply they have. With the UN focusing on their own losses, and grocery stores and markets closed, access to food will be a problem. The unknowns are there as well. Will people begin to riot when they run out of food? Will looting and plundering start to happen now that many walls are broken down? Is it safe for the men to leave their families at home? At the end of the meeting it’s decided that all non-essential staff should be evacuated, starting with families that have small children. Since Jayden counts as a small child, we need to pack. 

That night Jason and I walk around our home in a dream, moving stuff, covering stuff up and deciding what to pack. 50lbs each, we are told, is what you can take. Never putting much value in material possessions and having seen so clearly the slight step between life and death, nothing seems valuable to me. We end up just packing some clothes, shoes and toiletries and leave the rest. 

When Jayden finally falls asleep, I sit on the floor as Jason recounts his day. He seems shell shocked. “We picked up injured people alongside the street”, he says, “and gave them rides. Then when we got to the orphanage there were just hordes of injured people. Someone asked me if I knew how to do stitches and I said I’d done it once. That was all it took to get me the job of stitching people up. With very little know how and no anesthesia I got to work stitching up these big gashes. While I stitched, people were screaming and others helped to hold them down. I just had to do it though. As a fire fighter our job was to get people out and get them ready to be transported to the hospital. Today I was the Doctor. Then when we were driving home people were calling us to stop and help at an apartment building. Looking down a crack into three storey’s of rubble and just seeing body parts was very hard. When we tried to help everything started shifting and it was too unsafe. Without proper equipment there was nothing we could do. The people helping to dig said they hadn’t heard anymore screaming for the last couple of hours.” 

He stares off into space for awhile and then says. “If we really leave tomorrow, I’m going to cry. Everything is so unreal now, but when this really hits me, I’m afraid I will cry.” I don’t respond and just sit there staring wide eyed in front of me. It’s like we are in dream, just going through the motions, but nothing is really registering. “I might cry too,” I finally respond.