I don’t know why I thought I would be able to have a blog in Haiti. My time here has been a whirlwind of activity and if can barely find the time to shower, I certainly don’t have the time to journal.

I do, however, want to record some of my thoughts before this period of time in Haiti is over.  Today is Wednesday March 9^th, and I am writing this in Fond-de-Neg where there is no access to internet. It won’t be posted until I have returned to Port-au-Prince on March 16^th.

Warning: there will be graphic language.

I am no longer able to apply mosquito repellent because it burns the blisters in my palms, I am drained of money and am seriously dehydrated—but I can assure you that I have never been so fulfilled in my life. I find the most encouraging sign for Haiti’s future is the spirit of the people and the most discouraging sign to be the minimal impact that the clusterfuck of NGO’s have actually implemented. It seems like there is a humanitarian logo stuck to every filthy slum or broken building which I don’t find to be very good publicity. How there could be such an enormous NGO presence and so little aid actually being implemented will always remain a mystery to me.

Yesterday I needed to call my bank to alert them that I would finally need to use my credit card in Haiti. The phone representative asked me, “You’re in Haiti now?” I answered in the affirmative to which he replied, “Is it like…all messed up over there and stuff?” I didn’t know what else to say to him besides, “Yeah.” That’s the most honest answer that I could provide because it is really messed up over here. 

About a week ago, Chelsea and I stood on a street corner of what was once a city block of downtown Port-au-Prince. We could see across the entire block because every single building within it was flattened in the earthquake. The pile of rubble was overwhelming. I asked our friend Jhonson how the bodies could have possibly been removed if the rubble remained. He replied that the bodies had not been removed.

The buildings that crumbled, flattened or hunched from the earthquake look sad. They seem to remember a slightly better time for Haiti and they frown over the bustling life that carries on below their dangling power lines and teetering concrete slabs. I bought some fried plantains from a women who cooked below a severely bowing wood roof and the graffiti on the wall next to her read, “Vive Jean-Claude Devalier por future Ayiti.”

I know that this blog post isn’t bringing uplifting news, but it reminds me of the first thing that EDV’s Volunteer Coordinator said to us upon arrival: “If you aren’t crying then you aren’t paying attention.”

And yet, there are beacons of hope everywhere within the people of Haiti. From Carlo who manages an orphanage in Port-au-Prince simply because his mother opened it to Jhonson who coordinates bi-weekly English classes because he believes that he Holy Trinity is “education, knowledge and understanding.” Every person who wishes me “Bonjou” in the morning and “Bonswa” in the afternoon reminds me that there is hope for Haiti because as long as there is another day, there is another chance.

Tonight, I’m listening to a group of men argue with Madeleine about politics on the porch. Since the conversation is in French, I can barely understand but I’m fairly certain that she is trying to inspire optimism in a group of people who have simply been lied to too many times by politicians. However, there are more stars in the sky of Fond-de-Neg than I ever knew existed, and if the universe shines so beautifully over Haiti then I believe that this country has a beautiful future.

-Amanda