We are now almost three full weeks post-Hurricane Matthew here in Haiti, and the real work is just beginning. While we're so fortunate to have the support of so many of you both in in-kind donations and in financial commitments, today we will be welcoming our first Britsionary group since the Country Bank group evacuated just a day ahead of the Category 4 siklon that has ravaged the southern peninsula of Haiti and beyond. While it looks to be a typical work week, we know that this group is especially driven to do more. We're happy to announce that we'll be building a standard house, and also completing repairs on other homes in our area throughout next week! As we develop our community, we are doing so with foresight and planning. Our road is starting to look very nice!
If you haven't heard "how it's going" in terms of the response to those hardest hit by Matthew, the answer is, unfortunately, not great. Many of you saw those infuriating images of a Dutch ship carrying over 35 tons of relief by way of food, water, medicine, and shelter forced to abort their landing at the Port of Jeremie due to security concerns. I watched in horror on social media while people from all over the world remarked at how "savage like" the survivors were and how "out of control" their behavior was. I ask you: If you hadn't eaten in 2 weeks and saw the equivalent of a floating restaurant coming ashore, what would you do? Likely, you would do anything and everything in your power to provide for your family and your friends - secure whatever provisions you thought you could get, as after two weeks with no cavalry, who could know when they might come again?
In the absence of any real, organized, government response, it's those organizations, NGOs, missions, and good-hearted people who are really carrying the brunt of the relief effort. Tons of food may be shipped in, but people on the ground are the ones who are delivering it. Water and medicine makes its way to distribution centers and whatever homes might be left standing not because foreign militaries are bringing it to them, but because missionaries and volunteers or aid-workers are here - traveling over land and air to reach the most remote areas of devastation.
I think we should take a moment to recognize the tragedy that happened just this past week, when a small plane ferrying aid to Haiti from the Dominican Republic, with Canadian Humanitarian worker Benjamin Cole Brown, along with American couple Chuck and Candy Ritzen, crashed (presumably) into the sea near Puerto Plata after returning from Jeremie. The work they were conducting by use of the seaplane they piloted was so important, as they were able to land off the coast - working runways are few and far between. Our thoughts and prayers are certainly with their families as they work through this loss...
As the region struggles to recover from the storm, we've recently been pounded with heavy rains, only adding insult to injury. Just yesterday, when stories in the press broke about the American Marines leaving Haiti as the bulk of their work (the "heavy lifting") was completed and roads were passable, we received a notification from the American Embassy, warning that the rain waters had flooded National Route 2 from Petit Goave to as far as Port Salut. Ironic, the same government issuing two entirely conflicting notices. Perhaps a tiny example of the complexity of these enormous, bureaucratic agencies and entities responding to these types of crises.
Our work continues here on the ground, as we roll into this final week of October. We're also keeping our eyes focused on the south for another reason: Cholera. Conditions like flood waters and heavy rains are ideal for the contamination of drinking water, and as the water rise, undoubtedly, so will the number of cholera diagnoses and deaths. People immediately think of these types of serious illness, and that's of course important, but there are other deadly, less-visible diseases that can wreak havoc on this still-reeling population. Even still, we're working hard at reinforcing good hygiene and talking all about cholera prevention with our children, staff, and our neighbors.
We're hearing some troubling news from health workers in the southern peninsula, and even from as nearby as neighboring Petit Goave - only 10 minutes to our west. People who are developing symptoms of cholera are resistant to going to local clinics and hospitals, largely because they already are skeptical and have trouble trusting foreign aid workers, who, in many ways, they cannot separate from the foreign soldiers who introduced cholera back in 2010. Others believe it's just too late (cholera kills very quickly), or in many other cases, there's just no help. I've heard and read extensively about how Haiti is uniquely complex. The historical context, the dynamics of religion and beliefs, faith, voodoo, etc. Now, I see it. The storm having peeled back the layers - people are dying of cholera not just because of Hurricane Matthew, but because of a lifetime of decisions made for and imposed upon this struggling nation of revolutionaries and heroes. It is the great tragedy of our time.
I have to share with you my own personal medical scare this week. I share this with you somewhat embarrassed, because what I thought was becoming a serious issue really never was - but I think it's revealing in that given the current situation and state of medical care here in Haiti, even the smallest medical issue or concern can become problematic and can really become an emergency with little or no warning. Imagine being someone entirely cutoff from the outside world because of this natural disaster, added rain, flooded roads, and aid shipments forced to abandon their mission for security concerns. Imagine how desperate and panicked you might feel if you were in that situation. I was (and am) fully connected to the outside world, have access to medicines, emergency evacuation insurance, telemedicine equipment, and direct lines to some of the best health care providers in the United States.
Still, when I woke up on Sunday morning of last week with what appeared to be an aggravated hair follicle on my side, I was a little concerned. It felt different. It was "angry" - and it got progressively worse and more painful as the day went on. By Monday night, I was literally writhing in pain, my entire side inflamed from the middle of my back down to my waist. I couldn't sit up, I couldn't lay down. A drive from Port-au-Prince back to Grand Goave was the most pain I've ever felt in my life - every bump in the road and every turn sent what felt like burning fire and shooting pain through this area.
What appeared to be a simple cyst turned in to a decent size infection, inflamed under the skin. In the midst of it, I reached out to our good friend, Steve, with Mass General, and he talked me down a bit. Through sharing pictures with him (I'll spare you those, here), he was able to recommend treatment and lead me in the right direction. In bed for 2 full days, three antibiotics and some painkillers later, I am almost back to normal. What was, and is, nothing serious, the idea that it could be was terrifying. The ideas that ran through my head - the whole what would I do if really shook me for the first time in my almost 4 years here. It was an overwhelmingly helpless feeling. And so, when I see images of thousands of people rushing an aid ship that has aboard it life-saving supplies for people who've been largely abandoned and forgotten, I can certainly understand how and why the situation unraveled rapidly.
What I cannot understand, however, is how millions and millions and perhaps billions of dollars in aid and supplies and manpower pouring in to this country wasn't able to put in to place a system to receive this kind of aid, nor a system to manage it. On the heels of the lessons that surely should have been learned just over six years ago in 2010, it just doesn't make sense. And while there will be plenty of time for blaming organizations and governments and entities later, one thing is clear. The lack of collaboration and leadership at the highest of levels during this most recent crisis is clear, and the results are nothing short of catastrophic and criminal.
I may be one of the least religious people I know, but sometimes I can find a verse in the Bible that resonates (at least I think this is a Bible verse!)
We are Keeping the Faith in Haiti and the USA.
If you haven't heard "how it's going" in terms of the response to those hardest hit by Matthew, the answer is, unfortunately, not great. Many of you saw those infuriating images of a Dutch ship carrying over 35 tons of relief by way of food, water, medicine, and shelter forced to abort their landing at the Port of Jeremie due to security concerns. I watched in horror on social media while people from all over the world remarked at how "savage like" the survivors were and how "out of control" their behavior was. I ask you: If you hadn't eaten in 2 weeks and saw the equivalent of a floating restaurant coming ashore, what would you do? Likely, you would do anything and everything in your power to provide for your family and your friends - secure whatever provisions you thought you could get, as after two weeks with no cavalry, who could know when they might come again?
In the absence of any real, organized, government response, it's those organizations, NGOs, missions, and good-hearted people who are really carrying the brunt of the relief effort. Tons of food may be shipped in, but people on the ground are the ones who are delivering it. Water and medicine makes its way to distribution centers and whatever homes might be left standing not because foreign militaries are bringing it to them, but because missionaries and volunteers or aid-workers are here - traveling over land and air to reach the most remote areas of devastation.
I think we should take a moment to recognize the tragedy that happened just this past week, when a small plane ferrying aid to Haiti from the Dominican Republic, with Canadian Humanitarian worker Benjamin Cole Brown, along with American couple Chuck and Candy Ritzen, crashed (presumably) into the sea near Puerto Plata after returning from Jeremie. The work they were conducting by use of the seaplane they piloted was so important, as they were able to land off the coast - working runways are few and far between. Our thoughts and prayers are certainly with their families as they work through this loss...
As the region struggles to recover from the storm, we've recently been pounded with heavy rains, only adding insult to injury. Just yesterday, when stories in the press broke about the American Marines leaving Haiti as the bulk of their work (the "heavy lifting") was completed and roads were passable, we received a notification from the American Embassy, warning that the rain waters had flooded National Route 2 from Petit Goave to as far as Port Salut. Ironic, the same government issuing two entirely conflicting notices. Perhaps a tiny example of the complexity of these enormous, bureaucratic agencies and entities responding to these types of crises.
Our work continues here on the ground, as we roll into this final week of October. We're also keeping our eyes focused on the south for another reason: Cholera. Conditions like flood waters and heavy rains are ideal for the contamination of drinking water, and as the water rise, undoubtedly, so will the number of cholera diagnoses and deaths. People immediately think of these types of serious illness, and that's of course important, but there are other deadly, less-visible diseases that can wreak havoc on this still-reeling population. Even still, we're working hard at reinforcing good hygiene and talking all about cholera prevention with our children, staff, and our neighbors.
I have to share with you my own personal medical scare this week. I share this with you somewhat embarrassed, because what I thought was becoming a serious issue really never was - but I think it's revealing in that given the current situation and state of medical care here in Haiti, even the smallest medical issue or concern can become problematic and can really become an emergency with little or no warning. Imagine being someone entirely cutoff from the outside world because of this natural disaster, added rain, flooded roads, and aid shipments forced to abandon their mission for security concerns. Imagine how desperate and panicked you might feel if you were in that situation. I was (and am) fully connected to the outside world, have access to medicines, emergency evacuation insurance, telemedicine equipment, and direct lines to some of the best health care providers in the United States.
Still, when I woke up on Sunday morning of last week with what appeared to be an aggravated hair follicle on my side, I was a little concerned. It felt different. It was "angry" - and it got progressively worse and more painful as the day went on. By Monday night, I was literally writhing in pain, my entire side inflamed from the middle of my back down to my waist. I couldn't sit up, I couldn't lay down. A drive from Port-au-Prince back to Grand Goave was the most pain I've ever felt in my life - every bump in the road and every turn sent what felt like burning fire and shooting pain through this area.
What appeared to be a simple cyst turned in to a decent size infection, inflamed under the skin. In the midst of it, I reached out to our good friend, Steve, with Mass General, and he talked me down a bit. Through sharing pictures with him (I'll spare you those, here), he was able to recommend treatment and lead me in the right direction. In bed for 2 full days, three antibiotics and some painkillers later, I am almost back to normal. What was, and is, nothing serious, the idea that it could be was terrifying. The ideas that ran through my head - the whole what would I do if really shook me for the first time in my almost 4 years here. It was an overwhelmingly helpless feeling. And so, when I see images of thousands of people rushing an aid ship that has aboard it life-saving supplies for people who've been largely abandoned and forgotten, I can certainly understand how and why the situation unraveled rapidly.
What I cannot understand, however, is how millions and millions and perhaps billions of dollars in aid and supplies and manpower pouring in to this country wasn't able to put in to place a system to receive this kind of aid, nor a system to manage it. On the heels of the lessons that surely should have been learned just over six years ago in 2010, it just doesn't make sense. And while there will be plenty of time for blaming organizations and governments and entities later, one thing is clear. The lack of collaboration and leadership at the highest of levels during this most recent crisis is clear, and the results are nothing short of catastrophic and criminal.
I may be one of the least religious people I know, but sometimes I can find a verse in the Bible that resonates (at least I think this is a Bible verse!)
"For there will never cease to be poor in the land. Therefore I command you, ‘You shall open wide your hand to your brother, to the needy and to the poor, in your land.’"
We are Keeping the Faith in Haiti and the USA.
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