Harsh Realities and Haitians

Unfortunately, this is not going to be a happy blog post. Ironically, I am in as good a mood as I can. For those that know me well, I can be blunt and this post is going to be very direct. You have been warned.

All you Westerners in Haiti: Get Out.

You have become parasites, using people's suffering and pain as a way to satisfy that unquenchable thirst in your own soul to purge yourself of that inexplicable guilt. Wow, that was harsh but it speaks to a massive truth many people fail to see and realize. The truth is, in your quest to bring meaning and justification to your indulgences, you have ended up hurting more than helping. Haiti is not going to solve its problems now that the entire world has it in the palms of its hands, seeking to nurture and restore the country back to health. The truth is, Haiti was never healthy to begin with and this massive influx of capital is only worsening the situation.

There is a place for aid in this world, don't get me wrong, but when aid is abused and overused, suddenly cultures are perverted, poisoning the work ethic and responsibility of its people. Just yesterday my parents and I went out to dinner in the old section of Santiago. It is not uncommon to see children, namely Haitian children, begging for money. On this particular evening, the sun had just begun to cast long shadows across the streets and life was slowly starting to wind down for the day. It had, thankfully, just rained brining in some cooler air that would brisk by lightly providing some reprieve from the oppressive heat of the day. As we crossed a particular narrow road following along Calle del Sol, a Hatian girl in a little pink dress came up to us. Staring directly at us she held out her hand, palm up, and began to ask for money in Creole. She was no more than two and a half years old. She was so young, in fact, that she had trouble focusing on begging. As she followed us along the street, with each puddle that had collected in the rivets and cracks of the broken sidewalk, she would be distracted and make a splash, enjoying the entertainment of the disruption she caused in the water. But, as she moved on and reached drier sections she would remember the task her mother had put before her. As if some paranormal being controlled her arm, it was immediately raised up back into the open position waiting for some gold peso coins to fall in for her to grasp and proudly take back home to her mother. No more than three years old (probably closer to two), this girl could not possibly understand her actions. My mother began to cry from a mixture of two emotions: sadness and anger. Sadness for the life this girl lived, not able to enjoy the life even most Dominican children her age enjoy. Instead she was forced to beg while others played in puddles all day long. And anger for the life her mother made her a slave to begging, and how it would affect this young girl all the way to her deathbed years from now.

After dinner my mother valiantly stated that if we passed that girl on the way home, she was going to give her some of our leftover food. I gently said no. But the emotions of a mother of four swelled inside her and she began to argue with me. Firmly, her idea was shot down again and again until she gave up. I am not cold. But I turn a cold shoulder to the harsh realities of poverty. By giving that a girl some food I confirm to her all of the lies her mother taught her about gringos. I then make her realize that all she needs to do to gain a meal each day is be persistent enough in begging and soon she will be fed.

The reality is that for these people, those living on so little each day, it is life for them. And while none are content with their current situation, it is an insult to them to come in and claim to feel for their suffering. So back to Port Au Prince. This earthquake, it is nothing new to them. The grief they feel from what happened, it is but a magnification of the suffering they face on a daily basis. And so to come flooding in with aid, they ask themselves, where was all of this last month, last summer, or two years ago? We must turn cold shoulders to poverty and not get so wrapped up in the emotion of the suffering. For while it is a pain and struggle we have never experienced before (nor will ever understand) it is nothing new to them. Rather, we need to get wrapped up in the emotion of the release from poverty.

If we allow our focus to be in the present, on the current sufferings, pain will retain its hold resulting in a cyclone of repetitious agony. But if we focus on the future, we can calm that storm, perhaps not dispel it, but at least calm it. We are feeding the beast in Haiti, this child is proof of that.

There are ways to calm that storm, to focus on the future rather than the present. Certainly micro finance is but one way. When the next tragedy strikes, step back and remember that beast lying in the brush slowly feeding on the guilt of the wealthy. Then take action.