The only way we survive is through our faith and humor...

Over these past 2 ½ weeks, we’ve seen things that nobody should have to see…these things should just simply not be. We’ve seen children that have had their limbs cut off – in surgery or because their house or school crushed them. One boy came into our triage tent 1 ½ weeks after the earthquake – his leg was half gone – bone sticking out, surrounded by infected flesh. He was just now arriving to receive treatment – he wasn’t able to get to the hospital any earlier.

En route to Kenscoff (where NPH Haiti is located – high up in the mountains) on Saturday, we drove through Port-au-Prince. The ex-volunteers in our truck wanted to see what was left of the city they once knew. We passed the government buildings that are no more than piles of broken cement. The whole downtown area has been destroyed. Even the buildings that remain standing must be broken down before they fall on their own one day. We passed a supermarket that is no more than dust now…an estimated 400 bodies stuck inside. Passing it you smell their bodies rotting in the heat. People wear masks in the city because the stench is unbearable.

Mass was said on Saturday on top of the Fr. Wasson Center, our old hospital in Petionville that collapsed, in memory of Ryan and Molly, two volunteers that lost their lives in the tragedy. Mass was then said at Josef’s house (an ex-pequeno of NPFS Haiti and now employee of the organization), where he lost his entire family – not one was pulled from the home. They stood upon his crumbled home, now the grave of his family. As mass was said, many could not stand the smell of Josef’s family that was decaying under the rock. One of the band members threw up because of the stench. This ceremony is the closest thing he will get to having closure and burial for those he loved the most.

A few days ago I was sitting on the porch of the volunteer house, and as a semi drove behind the building, we heard yelling and people running on the gravel road. One of the trucks that was en route to our storage facility had been broken into. As it drove down the road, a few men jumped on the back and opened the doors. They began throwing boxes out – eventually whole pallets were being dumped off the truck. The people are hungry – and there is little food to eat. People are thirsty, and there is little water. Many people are still in the dark about where they can get the food they’ve been promised by the global community. People will do anything to make sure their families have a bit of food to eat. The people are struggling to make it.

In Fr. Rick’s homily on Sunday, he said “The only way we survive is through our faith and humor”. It’s true – we are in the midst of many horrendous things. But through our faith and humor, we are able to carry on. We have an amazing team of people that has come together through this tragedy. Many NPH volunteers, ex-volunteers and staff (you'll see some of them in the photo above) have come together to support our Haitian brothers and sisters – those that belong to our organization, and those that have been somehow treated or touched by our organization. People that have never even heard of NPH or St. Damien Hospital have shown up to our doors offering any help they could possibly give us. The latest estimate is that our hospital has cared for over 10,000 people – including those admitted to our hospital, and through our mobile clinics.

It is amazing to me how this tragedy can bring so many people together – people from all over the world have come together to support the efforts of the local staff of St. Damien and all of their outreach projects. If any of you would like to donate to a cause I truly believe in, visit www.compassionweavers.com . This is the website of the work being done in St. Damien Pediatric Hospital and their outreach projects. All donations will go directly towards serving the people of Haiti. All of us here appreciate your support of the work we are doing, and the work that will continue to be done long after we leave.

Peace to you all, annie