Some of the images are disturbing, the words that describe them haunting, and the stories are heart-wrencing. Initially, one feels compelled to turn away in an effort to avoid the uncomfortable reality of what is.
From the moment I arrived in Haiti, I struggled with the difficult question of how to blend my desire to chronicle and photographically capture images with my conviction to offer aid and assistance to the people. This internal tug-of-war was evident from the beginning and persisted for the entirety of my stay. Undoubtedly, it is not unlike that experienced by every journalists to ever enter such an arena.
The development of this site is my attempt to help readers appreciate the profound suffering and unfathomable loss of life, dignity, and hope encountered by our Caribbean neighbors. Additionally, I hope to leave you with a better understanding of Haitian culture, their current need for help from the international community, and what has contributed to making these people the resiliant nation they are. Most importantly, I hope this site helps you appreciate how their only hope for future success depends on our continued support to see them through this most difficult period.
Picture this: Your entire world literally collapses in a matter of forty, utterly terrifying, seconds. Your home instantly reduced to rubble, your friends, missing. What few possessions you had are now destroyed. Family heirlooms, photographs and mementos; vanished. Your body; broken, your future; indeterminate. Picture your entire life reduced to the few necessities you and what remains of your family, could scrounge from the disaster zone, now fitting within the confines of a blue 10' x 14' nylon tarp and a few sheets which now form your new home. A home which you will live in until.......well, until as long as it takes.
If you can see that in your mind's eye, you have some idea of what life looks and feels like in the hundreds of refugee camps scattered throughout the nation of Haiti, housing hundreds of thousands of people whose yesterdays are gone. Today is merely a struggle and tomorrow offers nothing but uncertainty.
Now, picture this. Old lady who smiled ear-to-ear... What's that you say...a smile? Here? In the middle of a disaster? Doesn't make sense.
Wait...is that a glimpse of a future I see? What else is there? What could be causing this? Show me more! Workers digging. Families. Classes of schoolkids. Sooooooo many of us with the kids!
Features: Listed to the right are individual pages which can be viewed in any sequence. Photographs can be enlarged full screen with a left mouse click on the desired image. Viewers are welcome to leave comments in a section specifically reserved for that purpose at the bottom of each post. Comments are private unless I choose to make them available for public viewing. Remember to indicate if you would prefer your message not be made public. You can also reach me for comment at aerocam2@aol.com
Views expressed within this blog are those of the author and representative of my inward feelings and reflections during my sixteen days in Haiti. Suggestions to improve the site are always welcome. Before you leave, please take a moment to visit the "In Recognition" page to help me thank the people who helped make this trip possible.
Reflections: As much as it pains all of us to witness the horrible outcome of the earthquake and aftershocks, I witnessed one of the best faces of humanity; of our world united in an effort to help our fellow men and women as they face the horrible past and an unknown future. It is one of the best manifestations of charity, compassion and goodwill I have ever witnessed and I feel truly blessed to have been a very small part of such a grand effort.
During those sixteen days, in a common effort for Haiti, I witnessed proof that, as inhabitants of the same planet, we can work together united, as one. Men, women, young and old alike, working shoulder to shoulder, amid language barriers and cultural differencies that less devoted individuals might have declared insurmountable. For those committed to the Relief Effort, it proved difficult and challenging at times, but were eventually treated as mere inconveniencies as all worked toward a common goal.
Perhaps our efforts lacked perfection, but in the grand scheme of things, maybe this is as good as it could be under such extreme circumstances. In more cases than not, these situations offered opportunities to learn and broaden my own horizons. As I have said to some of you in person, my time in Haiti was some of the most physiologically difficult hours and days I can ever remember, but spiritually speaking, more rewarding than any endeavor I have ever been involved with. Priceless moments, every one.
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While Kelli was packing for her trip late last week, we had our friend Carrie from church over for lunch. Carrie is a nurse, and truly one of God's own angels, who went to the DR and Haiti the week before me to help mend patients in the de facto field hospital that the town of Jimani had become in the weeks following the "terramoto." Carrie brought with her stories. She brought much-needed encouragement and prayers for Kelli. She brought advice.
Then, later - mostly as an afterthought - she brought a digital camera. One with a small, portable printer. Today, the FFP team brought it to Fond Parisien and began snapping away, showing and giving away photographs. And, with that simple gesture, they began bringing something that has been sorely missing to the people living in that camp.
As Kelli reported to me this afternoon, the camera...and the 4"x6" color prints it produced...created a palpable excitement everywhere it/they went. "At first," she said, "People were curious. In time, they became obsessed...even insistent that we take their pictures. The best was Jude."
Jude is a young Haitian boy (I'd judge him to be maybe 13 or 14) who I worked with during my trip. He and I spent a day repairing sagging and damaged tents. Jude was smart, motivated, attentive and VERY industrious. After I'd shown him just a few things (how to properly orient a fly, carve a stake, move a tent, etc.), he quickly became my right-hand man. This week, I was thrilled to learn that (a) Kelli was matched up with him for similar work and (b) he had evidently promoted himself to "tent foreman."
"Jude does NOT like having his picture taken," Kelli told me, "I basically had to beg him to take one with me at first. But, after he saw it - and how much other people liked seeing theirs - he got interested. By the end of the day, he had declared himself the official photographer! By then, the camera had created a minor mob scene. People were DEMANDING we take their photos - following us around and even grabbing at us until we did."
At first, I was just amused at Kelli's stories. Taking digital pictures and then showing the subjects their images on the camera on past DR mission trips has always been a popular pastime....but, never an exercise in crowd control. Then, it hit home. It's one thing to lose your possessions. Still another to lose a home. But, those things are ultimately replaceable.
There are two things, however, that are irreplaceable. First, there are loved ones. Fortunately, the incredible strength of the Haitians' faith assures them that their lost families and friends are safe in the arms of a loving God, and will be seen again. The second thing you can't replace is your history. Think about it - what is the one thing people consistently say they would run back into a burning building to save? It's not the plasma screen. It's the family photo album, scrapbooks, great grandmother's heirloom necklace from the old country and other such memories.
For nearly two months, the residents of Camp Hope have been living nearly dreamlike, temporary lives defined by cardboard boxes of possessions, plastic tarp latrines, plain-brown-wrapper military MREs and the four walls of a donated tent. Their histories - and thus a part of themselves - were taken from them without warning. Today, their lives became real again. Something permanent came into focus. And, they have the photos to hang on their tent walls to prove it.
Picture hope. Picture joy. Picture smiles. Picture babies. Picture people rebuilding a brand-new past and thus, seeing the future. Picture Kelli, Christine, Doug and Bob making it all happen. Picture the image of Christ's love for us.
That's what mission work is all about folks. Well done, good and faithful servants!
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