Since January 12

February 27, 2010

Sat, 27 Feb 2010 22:44:46 GMT

The following is a letter to three of my best friends.

Rebekah, Josine, Natalie,

It's been almost a month and a half, but I only recently began to think about how the earthquake has affected us. Sure, there are the obvious things. We've been separated for weeks without a proper goodbye for most of us. I guess there are no proper goodbyes though.

Remember our the last weekend before the earthquake? We all went to Koraly and Fabrice's after school with everyone else to swim and hang out. Then James drove us to my house...well Natalie helped him a lot to say the least. We watched the Hannah Montana Movie, except I fell asleep about ten minutes into it. The next morning we spent a while trying to figure out breakfast, and ended up making banana bread french toast, which was awesome. Oh and then we went to Fior di Latte for lunch and to get Josine's belly button ring that she had replaced with a giant chandelier earring after it fell out.

I feel weird saying it, but a lot of the memories I have with you guys involve food. Like how Natalie would always pick the beans out of her rice and beans, or would wait an hour for food, take a bite, and declare it disgusting. And I can't forget to mention your freaking obsession with apple juice...I'm sure you're the sole reason apple juice companies are staying in business. Then there's Josine who puts curry powder in everything she eats...ketchup, eggs, macaroni and cheese. You are also the slowest eater I know. Rebekah Boyer, I won't even go there. I will just say that I am still bitter about all the times I made you food because you were so hungry, then you took two bites and couldn't eat any more.

But we go so much farther than that. We've spent every morning before school together watching the little kids. They never ceased to provide us with entertainment from their voices and uproars and strange games. But should they ever give us silence, we had plenty else to talk and laugh about. Stories about parents, boys, teachers, and homework took up all the time we had left before the bell would ring to tell us to go to class. I know I never said it, but that hour before school was my favorite time of the day.

And then there was the beach for Christmas break. Sun and ocean and volleyball and boats and taking pictures and jumping off tall places and doing back flips off boats and good food and staying up late and talking and listening to good music and dancing funny and...just being with each other. Remember that feeling of being so happy that it didn't matter what happened next because we had that moment? We had that moment. It's gone now, but remember it, because it was that last glimpse of sun that we had before this tragedy clouded our lives.

Our friendship sounds a bit lame when I try to write it down, but we know that we were something special. No, we are something special. Maybe we won't all be together again, and if we do get to someday, it won't be the way it was. Things change quickly, as we witnessed in the weeks after January 12. We're far away from each other now, but we'll always be close. People say that high school friends don't stay together, but the people who say it never grew up in Haiti together or lived through what we've experienced together. You guys are my sisters, my best friends, my family, and we will always be together, no matter where we are. We have common bonds: God and Haiti.

I love you guys.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

February 18, 2010

Fri, 19 Feb 2010 00:06:50 GMT

It occurred to me today that I really don’t want to write this. It’s not that I don’t love writing or updating people or anything like that, but I just hate that something bad enough happened that I feel sick writing about it.
I had a conversation with a friend in the States the other day who was surprised when I said things weren’t good here. She asked me what specifically was wrong…was it with food not being available to people or what? Answering that question is hard because there is not really an answer you can put into words. Relief and aid have been getting to people. Businesses that have been left standing are starting to run again. Schools that were spared by the earth’s shaking are trying to reopen with the handfuls of students still here. Things in that sense are not too horrible considering the circumstance, because Haiti is strong.
It’s more of a feeling really…
Though there are so many people giving and doing so much, I wonder how much anyone can really do. If people were to come in, clear out all the rubble and rebuild the entire country, there is a feeling that would still be here. The feeling that life is broken and the scars of what happened and what we experienced will always remain with us, branded onto our skin for us to see every time we look into a mirror. Perhaps I’m not making sense and if you didn’t go through the earthquake, I don’t expect you to understand it, this feeling of sorrow and pain that weighs on your soul with all the gentleness of a concrete wall. It is a feeling that I am afraid that I and many others will always have with us.
If anyone tells you that the earthquake didn’t do much damage, they have not been downtown. This week, for the first time since before January 12, I saw downtown. Saying that nothing is left is only a slight exaggeration, as almost every single building is either damaged or reduced of rubble. Seeing the palace was sad…it was only about a year ago that my class went on a field trip to spend the day there for my comparative government class. The palace is to Haiti what the White House is to the United States. And now it is fallen: a pile of white concrete sliding farther each day; a gaping wound for all to see.

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February 12, 2010

Sat, 13 Feb 2010 02:49:15 GMT

It’s been one month.
It feels like it was just yesterday, but it also feels like it has been forever.
Perhaps one of the strangest things to me while I was in the States was that life kept going after the earthquake. People went to school and went to work and hung out with their friends and maybe if they passed a TV showing the news or a donation box, they would think of Haiti. Maybe take a moment to think about it, but then move on. Here, it’s like time froze. It’s already midway through February. The quarter is almost over, though I have been in school a total of nine days since it began. While the rest of the world keeps moving, Haiti is frozen with the chill of tragedy. It’s been one month, and they’re still digging bodies out. It’s been one month, and some people are only now getting medical attention. It’s been one month, and the media is getting bored with our story, but we are still living the story.
Even driving through the Dominican on the way back home, I could tell how extreme it is. Just across a thin border; a metal gate, life is completely normal for many. It’s amazing what can change in a few miles.
My school has started back, with 60 students out of the approximately 270 there were, and a mere handful of teachers. We are one of the very, very few schools that have been lucky enough to open again. There are 7 students in my senior class, and we meet in the home of one of our favorite teachers. In the mornings, we cover the core subjects needed to graduate, and in the afternoons do work or learn things we would in elective classes and help out our country in any way we can. This week we went to the community near the house we study in to help record data on deaths and fallen houses. While there, we spent time with a group of younger children, many without clothes, and that very afternoon received a donation of clothes for their age group that we were able to distribute to them the next day.
Today I had no school. This Friday, Saturday, and Sunday have been declared days of prayer and fasting. Throughout the country, people of all ages and social circles are crying out to God day and night.
Aftershocks are not fun. A lot of people have gotten used to them and don’t even feel them anymore. I, unfortunately, am not one of those people. I feel them before they come and while they’re here and after they leave. Sometimes I’ll think that there’s one, but there won’t be. I’m a bit jumpy to say the least.
It’s weird driving by Caribbean Market, where I spent my last few minutes of a normal life. The huge building is completely flattened. Every time I see it or think about it, it hits me again that I could have been in there. My dad found the receipt from that day, and it shows the time we checked out. Only a few minutes before. It shows the name of the worker who checked us out. But there were more workers than her…there was an entire store full of workers and owners and people. Hundreds. Most of them are still in there, one month later. I could have been too, but I am not. Instead I am out here, trying to find a purpose in all of this mess. I think of the workers behind the deli counter and all the shoppers loading up their carts for the week, and I shudder, imagining the terror of their last moments. I remember being at the checkout, looking at the people around me, browsing through the selection of gum, thanking the worker who helped take the groceries to our car. Where is he now? Is it bad that I want to stop thinking about it all? Either way, I can’t, because there it lies every time I drive by, the huge reminder of a flattened building, surrounded by looters and lifting machines and people who have nothing better to do than watch workers chip away at a pile of destruction.
Maybe it’s “uncool” of me, but in all the sorrow, I still manage to make time to be sad about small things. None of my girlfriends are in the country. It’s weird having days off of school and wanting to have a sleepover with your best friends and stay up all night watching movies and talking about things that used to matter. But I can’t. So instead, I sit here, in front of my computer, and write, hoping that someday things will get better.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

Travel

Sun, 07 Feb 2010 03:00:39 GMT

My mom and I are traveling back to Haiti via the Dominican Republic tomorrow.
No doubt tonight will be a late night of packing and goodbyes.
Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers as we travel.
Hopefully I will update more diligently once I am home.

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February 3, 2010

Wed, 03 Feb 2010 18:54:51 GMT

Sometimes I forget about the earthquake. Not in the sense that I am ignoring all the pain and suffering going on, but more that I am able to not think about it for a moment. I'll be out with my family or laughing or doing something fun...and it's almost as if it never happened. But then I look up and I'll see snow and remember where I am and why I'm here and it hits me all over again.
I remember in the early days following the earthquake I would be on the phone with someone and all you could talk about was what happened and what was going to happen. It seemed wrong to talk about anything else. I still deal with that. Is is bad that I'm able to have fun or go to the mall when there are people my age getting limbs cut off or mourning their family? Is it wrong that I'm able to eat three full meals a day when there are those who can't even find one? Sometimes it feels that way.
What I can't get over is how quickly things can happen. The earthquake happened, and ever since then, things have been in fast motion. Exactly one week after the earthquake, I was on an airplane and thinking that if one week ago, I had seen where I would be, I probably would have had a panic attack or something.
The first time I listened to my iPod since the earthquake, I started crying. It was a week after, and all the music I heard was from Christmas vacation and hanging out with friends and having a good time. The thought that nothing would ever be the same as in those moments...I will never be happy in that way again...it just hurts to think about.
I still feel the earthquake. Lying in bed at night, the earth still shakes. I can feel it.
Going grocery shopping is never going to be the same for me. It reminds me of going that day with my mom, and leaving almost not soon enough. I read an article about the people working on Caribbean Market, and it described the scene at the checkout. There were many dead, and the bodies were "unrecognizable." I just checked out there. It was close. I could have been one of the unrecognizable.
Falling asleep is difficult. Usually I end up lying awake for a couple of hours before I can, even after taking allergy medicine. (That used to help.)
My sister had hip surgery this week, and it went well. It was weird being in a hospital; it was so quiet and peaceful compared to the crowded and loud medical centers in Haiti. If only they all had the opportunity to receive the first class care there is here.
My mom and I are working on getting back to Haiti on Sunday, and I am really looking forward to it. I ask you to pray for our plans to succeed, and for safe travel. Pray unceasingly for Haiti. The news may eventually be filled with other tragedies, but Haiti will still be there, fighting it's way back to normality.

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Update coming soon.

Tue, 02 Feb 2010 03:17:00 GMT

Sorry I haven't written for a few days.
Don't worry, I haven't forgotten, but I have been pretty busy.
There will be one soon though, so stay tuned.
Thank you all for your continuing prayer and support. Please keep it up; Haiti needs to heal.

January 27, 2010

Wed, 27 Jan 2010 19:02:15 GMT

It snowed here the other day. Not too much, but enough to make me a little excited. (I have a thing for snow.) It's weird being here and seeing Haiti in the news and papers...it doesn't even seem real sometimes. The Haiti I do remember was before the earthquake; my mind has freakishly quick-acting scar tissue.
Things are starting to happen back home. School started today and restaurants and stores are beginning to open back up. It's an encouraging sign. I really miss home though...I can't wait to get back. Not that I'm not enjoying myself here, because I really did need this time and it's doing wonders. Just it's easy to miss home. And my parents. They are so busy that I don't hear from them very often. I told my mom the other day that I feel like the mother who sent her child away to college and writes them long e-mails only to get a couple lines back. (I really miss them, if you couldn't tell.)
God is so real to me these days. I can see him in ways that I wouldn't have before. He's very present with me: I feel lonely sometimes, being the only person from Haiti around here, but I can feel him here with me. My faith is also growing, and I can see answers to prayer made very apparent. Allow me to share an example. I have what some would call difficulty with nerves. As an active member of student council throughout my high school career, I have more than once had to make speeches in front of the entire student body. And for some reason, no matter how often that occurs, I cannot get used to it. So on Sunday, when I had to be interviewed in front of an entire Church, many of whom I do not know, you could say I was freaking out a little. I sent out a few desperate prayers to God, and just before I was to go up, someone read scripture in front of the Church that spoke to me very strongly. Unfortunately, I don't remember the reference, but it was something along the lines of "stop looking for what you're supposed to say and let God say it through you." (Or at least that is what I got out of it.) So I went up in front of a couple hundred people and was able to speak with minimal nerves, an experience I have never had before. You may not know me very well, which could hinder your understanding of this situation, but I am by nature a very nervous person. I really feel like my ability to speak in front of so many and be at peace is a total "God thing."
Haiti still fills my thoughts. Though I hear of good things, I try not to get too excited about them because I know they are baby steps. Maybe things are reopening and fuel is becoming available, but these wins are still so small compared to what my country will have to overcome. This country will take generations to heal. Therefore, Haiti is my prayer. Sometimes when I can't seem to find the words to say I can simply lift that word to God: Haiti. He understands.

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January 23

Sun, 24 Jan 2010 02:50:47 GMT

Well. It's been an interesting few days. I've been staying with my family in Louisville, Kentucky, and have had a really good time hanging out with them and relaxing. Everyone here has been so incredibly generous to me; it is truly a blessing.
I've loved getting to have some downtime, but it is not easy. When I am told to "try to not worry about Haiti", I find I have a difficult time keeping to the task. Worrying seems to be a natural reaction...being here that's all I can do. Worry. Well there are two things at least, worry and pray.
I'm feeling a little more relaxed than I did at first, but I still hate being away from home. I hate not knowing what is going on at each and every moment, and though they are not fun, I hate not being there for the aftershocks, simply because I cannot judge for myself how bad they are as oppose to what the news tells us.
I'd like to share a bit about how my parents are currently occupying themselves.
Almost everyday, they go to a ministry called Heartline in Tabarre, Haiti. My mother helps with organizing supplies and interpreting and running errands while my dad helps with medical procedures. I was able to talk to them on the phone the other night and hear their stores, and I can say that I know they are doing what they are called by God to do. This experience has made me so grateful for my parents. Every day I see a new side of them. They have faith when there is no reason to; they have sight even when things are dark. Though they cannot do what they ordinarily do, they are giving themselves to my country, working from morning till night to help Haiti out of this dreadful time. I miss them both so much, and cannot wait to be reunited with them.
Though I worry a lot about Haiti, and am anxious to get back there, I am filled with a deep Peace. Philippians 4:7 says, "And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." I am so glad to experience the Peace of God, especially in this horrible situation. It is amazing to me that I can realize how bad a situation is, and how bad it will be for a while, and still be at peace about it. I know that Haiti is in a bad place, but that God is still with Haiti.

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Still January 19

Wed, 20 Jan 2010 22:32:37 GMT

I had a conversation with Josine last night before she left. We were talking about everything that had happened since the earthquake. So I have a few more of my thoughts sorted out.
I feel like something was stolen from me. A part of my life I'll never be able to get back. It's weird that 30 seconds robbed me of months of my life. People here are being so generous. Not only in donating to Haiti, but helping me out while I'm here. I'm so grateful, but I'm also sad. Because no matter how much people give me, no matter what they do, I will never get back what I lost. A precious part of my life is gone, and no amount of money or food will get it back.
I'm crying a lot more now that I'm here. I cried myself to sleep last night and I cried on the airplane and Lord knows I will cry some more. I'm hearing more and more that my friends don't know if they're coming back. I don't know when I'll see them again.
But there is some goodness I'm beginning to see. I mentioned to a couple of people that when I look back, I see that there was closure, even though I wasn't able to notice it until now. During vacation, I went to the beach with friends and spent time with my family. My last weekend of normality I had a hang out with my class, a girl's night, hung out with my friends the next day, and went out to eat at my favorite pizza place. I also went to Colin's mountain house one last time. It sucks that those times are gone now, but there was the blessing of having it all while it lasted.
I feel God so close to me, though. I'm not afraid about anything, only sad. I feel him with me when I travel and when I cry. When I think I am completely alone, I feel him there. He is next to me and he will never leave me.
I'm heartbroken, but he is there.

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January 19-20

Wed, 20 Jan 2010 16:35:42 GMT

Yesterday I woke up at 5:30 and got to the small airport at about 7:30. I waited with Colin and Celine for the plane that was donated by a raceway driver, Rickenson...or someone. I have the name written down but I am running on pretty much no sleep right now so not sure.
We waited and waited and waited for the 10:30 plane which finally arrived at about 3 pm. We got out by 3:30 I would say. I spent the flight listening to music and talking with Celine and Colin and eating peanuts and cookies that the crew handed out.
We arrived in Fort Pierce at about...actually I'm not really sure what time we got there. But Erika, Colin's oldest sister was there to pick the two of them out, as well as a woman named Debbie to pick me up. All of us went out to eat at Applebee's, and...it was really nice to be that full of good food.
I said goodbye to Colin and Celine and went to meet Lonnie Murphy, a friend who used to live in Haiti, and is pretty much family, as well as my friend Josine, who flew out the previous day and was staying with her. We spent a couple hours together and I stayed the night at Suetta's (another family friend) house and got about 3 hours of sleep before I had to wake up and leave for the airport.
My flight to Kentucky was cold and there was a bit of turbulence. But I got an entire row to myself because it was pretty empty, so I mostly tried (and failed) to sleep, and cried a bit.
I'm here in Louisville, Kentucky, with my Aunt Leslie and her family, and they are treating me wonderfully.
Sorry if this is not too much of an emotional entry, I'm drained. I have no sleep and I had to say goodbye to Josine, and I don't know when I'm going to see her again.
Hopefully I'll be able to say more soon.
I miss my parents a lot, please keep them in your prayers.

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January 17-18

Tue, 19 Jan 2010 02:38:20 GMT

Well. Things certainly happen quickly around here.

I forgot to mention that we were able to get a hold of Eden. Eden is a Haitian nurse who helps my dad out at his clinics; a woman I’ve known her for most of my life. Eden is okay, but one of her two children died in the earthquake, and she fears her two sisters dead as well. I cannot begin to imagine the depths of her sorrow, and yet it hurts me to think of the pain that this woman my family has loved for years is feeling. The miracle of her one daughter being found after six days is truly amazing, and small glimmer of hope in this horrible situation.

Rebekah left on Sunday. Sunday was also the day I went to Colin’s house. I spent a lot of time hanging out with his family, reading Archie comics, and trying to make myself useful by helping clean the house. I ended up staying the night, bringing the total number of people sleeping at his house to 12. It was another one of those bittersweet times for me: having a good time but knowing that everything is about to change.

We spent a lot of time talking, and there was even quite a bit of laughter. I stayed up until midnight, and ate some chocolate, which is becoming a rarity here. Colin and I sat outside on the patio, and a conversation we had there stands out to me. “I feel old,” I said to him, “I told my mom last night that I think I’m finished being a teenager.” We both shared similar feelings on the matter. Going through such a tragedy has changed me a lot. You hear people talk about aging overnight, and I can honestly say that I have been through that. I’m not claiming to be above anyone nor am I saying I have the extensive knowledge of an adult, but this experience has changed me. It’s like part of my life was taken away that wasn’t finished. A “normal teenager” isn’t something I think I’ll ever be again. Even if life were to go back close to the way it was…after some of the things I’ve seen, I will never be able to go back to the way I was.

I slept pretty well, with the exception of dreams about trying to find money for college. The sky was beautiful and blue when I woke up, and the sun was shining. I hung out with Colin and Celine (his sister) and ate breakfast, and then went to school with my mom. The US Army is supposed to be staying at our school, so all the teachers had to clean out their classrooms. I helped my mom with that, and tried to do some good around the campus.

We left school and made it home, and I spent a lovely dinner with my parents. The fact that we have food while so many don’t is such a blessing.

Tomorrow I am leaving the country for one week. I feel weird about going…I don’t want to leave my parents or my country, but I really need to get out for a bit. The writing will continue as I always seem to have a lot on my mind.

I ask everyone to pray as I make my way over…pray that I will be safe and that everything will go smoothly. Also pray for my family that I am leaving behind…for their safety, and that I can get back to them soon. Pray for my country, that it may make the best out of this horrible situation and flourish like it has so much potential to do.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

January 16, 2010

Sat, 16 Jan 2010 23:44:55 GMT

Today was bittersweet for me.

I woke up at 7:30, ate breakfast and got ready.

We loaded up the truck and started the day. When you drive past the places where thousands of people are camping, it smells like a sewer, and continues to for several blocks. (It is better than the smell of decay you find other places.) First we went to Colin's house to check up on things and try to find fuel. I talked to his sister for a bit and then went and woke him up. I just can’t seem to see my boyfriend without crying. Seeing him makes me miss him more, if anything. It’s hard not to want to spend more than three minutes with such a beautiful (inside and out) person; someone so close.

After a few minutes I said goodbye and we went to the school. Our national workers and their families are all camping out there, as well as some teachers and some children from an orphanage. About five or so of my friends were also on campus, so we spent the time talking and hanging out, like we would in the old days. Only it was so different. So much has changed. (How long will it take for me to be able to see someone I love without bursting into tears?)

Rebekah, my best friend, told me that she and her younger brother were going to fly out tomorrow, leaving their parents behind, but would be returning as soon as possible. Josine, a girl I have been friends with my entire life, is an exceptionally talented photographer. She told me how difficult it has been for her lately, with everyone assuming she is taking pictures all the time. “But I haven’t touched my camera since the earthquake,” she told me. “I can’t. All of my pictures are of happy times, and I can’t bring myself to capture these moments.” She too is hoping to leave Haiti when an opportunity arises. My friend, Chris, who is not an American citizen, would have a difficult time getting out of the country. At least I’ll have someone to hang out with.

Though not all of my friends were at school, I was able to spend a few hours with the ones who were while my family brought medical supplies to a center that had need of them. We talked about the good times and the now, we cried, we even joked around a little bit. For me, it was a ray of sun in this storm that came along in life.

And then I said goodbye.

Goodbyes are difficult enough when you know when you’ll see the person again. They’re even harder when you don’t. Saying goodbye to lifelong friends, people I rely on for mental stability and more, was…sad. Thought hey say they’ll be back “as soon as possible,” who really knows?

This is not how things were supposed to be.

On the way home I got the sad privilege of seeing more fallen buildings. Who knew a material structure could hold so much significance? People all over the world see these collapsed structures on the news and think it is sad, but they weren’t the ones who spend their lives in them. Here’s the store I went to every day, the place I would go out to eat with my friends, the hotel we went swimming at a few weeks ago. All gone.

On a better note, the open-air market where women sell local produce was open. We were able to buy some avocado (my favorite), tomatoes, and fruit to hold us over, overpriced as it was. I have to get used to that, because everything is going to be that way from now on. Which will be a problem. So many people lost their jobs and businesses, and therefore sources of income in this earthquake. They have no livelihood here anymore, no means of staying. This natural disaster did not pick and choose, it brought calamity on people of every gender, race, and social status. We are all in this together.

I’m scared though. For one of the first times in my life, I don’t have any idea what’s going to happen. I don’t know when I’ll next see my friends or family, what’s going to happen for school, if I’ll be able to go to or even afford college in the fall. I don’t know where the food or fuel will come from, or how. And there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.

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January 13 through January 15

Sat, 16 Jan 2010 01:32:54 GMT

January 13, 2010
It started off as a mostly normal day. My best friend stayed home from school sick…she was supposed to come spend the night so I was a bit disappointed. I ate lunch, took a Calculus quiz, and tutored the middle school girls I work with in the afternoons. I spent some time with my boyfriend, Colin, and shared a cinnamon roll and Doritos with him. I left school with my mom and we went to the store because my dad hadn’t had the time to go that day.
We took longer than usual shopping that day as we ran into a few friends and stopped to talk. I bought some milk chocolate and a couple bags of honey mustard and onion pretzels to eat in the car. We left the store and drove off, and my mind was filled with words to a poem I was mentally composing and couldn’t wait to write down when I got home.
A minute later, the world collapsed.
You’re supposed to know when natural disaster will strike by watching the animals. Their senses are sharper than ours; they are supposed to be the ones to warn us. But I wasn’t watching the animals at 4:57 pm on January 12, 2010. I didn’t see any dogs freaking out and barking and running.
At first I thought there was something wrong with the car. It felt like the tire had popped because we were swerving all over the road. A boy was running and I thought it was curious how he had known to run before our tire had popped. Then I realized that all the cars were swerving and we were still moving even though we were stopped and the street had turned into maddened waves of concrete. Buildings were shaking and people were screaming and dust filled the air. It seemed to last forever; a good twenty seconds. It stopped for a few seconds and started again, and I remember crying out to a higher power, asking him to stop it. People were running up and down the road, crying and screaming and calling people on cell phones. Everyone’s hands were raised to the sky and I thought it strange until I realized that mine were too; pressed to the roof of the car. My thoughts raced to Colin and my dad and I tried to call them but the phone networks weren’t working. People were covered in dust from buildings. Parents were carrying children. Schoolgirls were crying and boys were reading the Bible out loud. Finally, I received a call from Colin; he was okay. My dad got through to me soon after letting me know that he was okay. Two miracles. Traffic was at a standstill and all I could do was sit and cry with my mom, praying as we watched the chaos around us, still feeling aftershocks.
After a long ride we made it home, and I ran upstairs because all I wanted to do was hug my dad and my cook, Claudette. Tears were streaming down my face as I climbed over the collapsed bookcase next to the front door of my house and tried to communicate to Claudette why I was so upset.
The phone networks were still screwy, but I managed to get a hold of a friend whose internet was working, and she told my sister in the States that we were okay. Then we began to hear reports from the news and people on the road about damage that had been done. The National Palace was destroyed. The United Nations headquarters. Two hospitals. Multiple schools. The main cathedral as well as a smaller one close to where Colin lives. The grocery store we had left minutes before the quake. Houses. Homes. Lives. All gone.
I cried and held my mom and we eventually ate dinner. I eventually heard reports from some of my friends saying they were okay. I talked to Colin a few times; his sister and mom were at home and his driver was going to go pick up his dad from the school he works at, but it was downtown and a lot of traffic. We talked for a while, and cried…well I cried mostly; Colin isn’t one for tears most of the time.
I waited around and watched the news. So I prayed. I cried and I prayed.
All the cell phones stopped working. There was no way to communicate with anyone. After hours, I decided to go to bed; there was nothing else to do. I kept a bag beside me in bed…it contained money, bottles of water, peanut butter, and medicine. Just in case.
Throughout the night, I was awakened by shaking and the clanging of a lock against the gate, and would quickly run out of my room. Then I would go back to sleep and the same thing would happen again. Towards 12:30 am I stood with my mom and dad on our balcony, looking out into the dark night. “I can hear them,” I told my mom, “You have to listen.” Cries and prayers from thousands filled the night; saturating the air with pain. Lying in bed again, I talked to my God. Jesus, be with my friends and their families. Give them strength. Protect them, and send your angels to surround them. I went back to sleep, but it was no more restful than being awake. Dreams filled my head, each one seeming more real than the next. In one I was with my mom and the earthquake was happening all over again, and we were hugging and holding our heads together; our eyes shut so we couldn’t see what was about to happen to us.
I woke up, nauseous with worry. We hadn't had phone service in over 12 hours, a time in which anything could have happen.
The entire morning I did not know what to do. I couldn’t read a book, nor could I find it in me to write the paper for my English class comparing the leadership in Beowulf to that of Winston Churchill. It seemed so stupid now, classes and assignments. People were dying. My country was demolished. Anxiety gnawed at my stomach as I watched the news and paced around my house.
My dad decided we needed to go out and see what was going on. We first went up the other mountain to my best friend, Rebekah’s house, and spent some time with her and her mother. They allowed us to use their internet and we were able to contact concerned family and friends in the States. After that, we went to a point on the mountain where you can look out over the entire city. It was heartbreaking to see the palace smashed, the cathedral caved it. These places I was so familiar with, that gave me a sense of my country were, well, gone.
Home once more, I told my mom of the news and showed her pictures we had taken of all of the damage. One of the oddities we had noticed was the many people on the streets. There were more people out walking around than I had ever experienced in Haiti. People were walking with luggage or dead bodies, people were sitting on the side of the street, people were crying. There were many fields and parks filled with people camped out, many from losing houses and many from fear of being inside their homes. My father told me that it seemed like Woodstock.
Here I am. It is dark. I don’t know what to do. I pray constantly, because I know that is the only thing I can count on. I don’t want to do anything, but I don’t want to do nothing. I’m afraid to eat because of food shortages, I’m afraid to turn on lights because of electric and gas shortages. I’m afraid to go to sleep in case I have to get up and run. I’m afraid because the prison was affected and convicts are on the loose. I’m afraid because I don’t know about so many. I’m afraid because I’ll soon find out about them. I’m afraid because I don’t know when we’ll go grocery shopping again. I’m afraid because I don’t want to fall behind in school. I’m afraid because all of the places I used to go with friends are damaged. I’m afraid because I constantly feel earthquakes, from the way the car moves over bumps to someone hitting the edge of the table to the breeze. I can’t stop feeling the shaking and I don’t know if this is the type of thing that ever stops.
I’m so afraid.
And yet in the midst of it all, I feel a sense of calm. A peace. Never before has God been so real to me. I feel him next to me, I feel him watching over me while try to sleep. I thought I would blame him in catastrophe but I don’t because I know. I know that there is so much more going on than just earthquakes and deaths, and that God is taking care of it all.
I’m worried that I won’t be able to handle everything though. My friend, Monica heard that her step mom died. How much more can I hear?

January 14, 2010
We got our internet back last night. I spent a long time reassuring anxious relatives of my own, as well as Colin’s, as their internet wasn’t functioning.

I finally slept.

I woke up at seven this morning to the sound of my cell phone ringing, loud and beautiful beside my head. I answered, groggy but relieved it was working, and talked to David, my friend and Colin’s cousin, for a few minutes, making sure he and his family was alright. (They were, but one aunt had lost a house.)

So began my day. I woke up my parents and told them the good news. I got online for a while and continued to get in touch with people (Colin has many relatives). It was good…it made me feel like I was helping in some small way.

I ate and took a shower and got dressed. My parents went down with Caroline and Claudette to the school, and I almost went. However, I decided not to go. Firstly, I don’t want to see Delmas yet. Second, when I do see Delmas, I don’t want it to be with many people.

So I stayed home and the neighbors came over and used the internet…first Philippe and Raphael and then Sebastien. I hung out with him for a while, which was good…I just needed to be around someone my own age for a while.

Then they left for a funeral.

Mom and Dad got home. The school is fine and all of the teachers are fine. A lot of national workers lost homes and relatives, and a bunch of people are camping out at school. They’re going to use the campus for medical relief and aid stuff. Hopefully I’ll be able to help with that.

School won’t start for at least a month.

I’m scared my life won’t be normal again.

I saw pictures of the demolished Montana, then looked at the ones of us there in December. Then I looked at pictures of Christmas vacation.

Then I cried.

I miss life how it was. It will never be that way again.

I feel like everyone aged, and we’re still aging, way too quickly in the past couple days.

I miss Colin.

I read a facebook message from the Els, the alumni coordinator at my school, who said that they knew two elementary students had died, and some parents, and that people are still trapped in buildings. Also that school won’t be back until after carnival break, and that they would be working on getting packets out until then.

What??

Packets? Do they think anyone is going to be able to do any work? You might watch the news and think it looks bad, but I am living it. I am affected far less than many, and I am still living it. I am living it and it is hell.

I found out who one of the dead elementary students was. A second grade girl named Vanessa. Her parents worked for the UN, and they were involved with the school, and my mom and dad knew them well from when she was in her kindergarten class. The family was in the Montana when it collapsed, and they all died. What can you even say about something like that? My heart breaks, but it can’t keep breaking, so I can’t dwell on it. I can’t think about it. I was just talking to Colin, telling him about how I was writing just to get stuff down. I told him about how I know I won’t be able to remember it as well soon, because my mind blocks out bad things. I want to write it down and forget about it, and make it go away.

I’m starting to hear about people leaving. Evacuating the country. I can’t leave; that much I know. This is my home, and when my home grieves, I have to grieve with it. I already swore that if anyone tried to make me leave, I would chain myself to my house. But I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know if my friends are going to leave. I don’t know if it’s going to be safe. If there will be fuel or food. If people will be able to maintain control of the people. I’m scared, but I know that I can’t leave.

What about school? What about college? I’m supposed to be filling out the FAFSA that I started last week. I just can’t. I can’t look for scholarships. I can’t worry about these things right now. It’s so funny, if you had asked me last week what I was going to do I would have said graduate on May 29. Now I don’t know. You never know what will happen.

I keep thinking about really seemingly shallow things. We went out to eat on Sunday to Karibe, a hotel we eat at once a week. It was me, Colin, my family, and a couple teachers. I always get the spinach lasagna there because it is the absolute best, but I didn’t because I was feeling fat that day. Now I might never get it again. So I’m pissed at myself for not choosing the lasagna. We ran out of salad stuff today…all the fresh vegetables at my house. We are nowhere near out of food, but I really like fresh vegetables.

I’m sad and I’m mad and I’m scared. About the big things and the little things. I cry all the time, and I feel bad for talking about the earthquake all the time, but I feel bad for talking about other things.

I just want my life back.

January 15, 2010

It’s been a long day.

I went to bed last night and was awakened at 5 in the morning by a tremor. Then another one a few minutes later.

Then I fell back asleep.

I slept in until almost 8, which is pretty much a record.

After I showered, I talked to Colin for a few minutes and got online. I’m starting to dislike getting on because it seems like every time I do I find out some form of bad news. Sitting around the house is starting to wear on me, so I tried to make myself useful and cleaned out my room for clothes and shoes I didn’t need, and put them in bags…someone will need them soon.

I didn’t do much. Or I don’t remember it. Tried to call people, ate lunch, thought about things. It’s pretty cold at my house so I went up on the roof and sprawled out in the sunlight. The day was gorgeous. A beautiful blue cloudless sky smiled down on me, and the sun warmed me, and for a minute I was happy. A yellow butterfly flew in front of my vision and I tried to forget.

But I can’t.

I keep hearing about people who are leaving. Friends.

This isn’t fair. I’m being selfish but this isn’t how my senior year was supposed to go. This last semester was supposed to be the best time in high school, and then one week into it…gone. I’m never going to be able to go out with my friends again for pizza or go to the beach for my birthday like I had wanted. I miss seeing them in school, joking around with them in class. I miss sleepovers with my girlfriends and watching The OC with Rebekah. I miss spending Saturdays at Colin’s house, eating French toast and just hanging out and being happy.

God, I miss Colin. If you don’t know much about my relationship with him, that could be difficult to comprehend. I’ve known Colin since sixth grade when he transferred from another school into my class. He’s been my friend for a while, and we’ve been together for a year a three months on January 17. Which is our year and three months anniversary, and I probably won’t even get to see him. Colin is a treasure. He is truly a gentleman, and I do not exaggerate in saying that I am the luckiest girl in the world to be with him. He is so much more to me than a boyfriend: he is my best friend.

That’s why it’s so hard for me to be away from him. And I keep thinking, what if he has to leave, or if I do, or if I don’t get to see him for a while.

I’m scared about leaving. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want it to get that bad. I don’t want to have to leave. At the same time I can’t stand to see my home like this. I can’t stand to see my friends leaving and not know when I will see them again.

Emotionally, I’m not so good today. It hurts too much to process all of this.

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