Saturday, May 1, 2010

The Dragon Appears.



On Monday it was the feast of St. George. The night before Father Rick had gotten into a fight with gang members from Cite Solie who had been hanging around outside of the gate of the hospital. When the earthquake hit the prison was destroyed and all 1,000 inmates escaped; thugs, rapists and killers now all loose and back on the streets. The morning of the feast Father Rick told how St George had slayed the Dragon. The Dragon represented everything dark and evil in the world. The Dragon was violence, poverty, hate and misery. Father Rick marveled at how far this country had come, in 2007 it was on the brink of collapse into total chaos, kidnappings and murder were rampant, now after the earthquake there had become relative peace. Father Rick darkly warned us not to put our guard down, that we were crazy if we thought that because there is peace the Dragon was dead. “It never dies,” said Father Rick “just goes into hiding to sleep and now with the appearance of the gangsters the Dragon is at the front gate…beware.” It was a scary message that shook me as I stepped out of church into the bright Tabbarre morning.

This week there were two funerals one was for Nurse Narciss who died in the earthquake, her body was found on Monday in the ruins. We traveled to Delmas to a pile of rubble that used to be a home, a small crowd had gathered to pay respects. Father Rick and I carried a small alter to the top of the rubble to begin the mass. As we were clearing a spot for the chairs Father Rick spotted something in the rubble and picked it up, it was the head of a small boy; the nurses son. Father Rick shook his head sadly, found a box in the rubble and put the boys remains in it and laid it in front of the altar. It was hot under the sun; I stared off and looked at the ruined city below. Fuck. Later that evening we gave the boy and his mother a proper burial with music, incense and prayers. The sun set on our pretty hillside graveyard outside of the city, we gave a little bit of dignity in this world without.

The other funeral was for one of Father Rick’s friends who died in the earthquake an Architect named Hillarie. Hillarie was well educated and part of the upper class, the service was elegant and in a pretty church in Pettionville, I sat quietly in the back, Father Rick gave the mass in Creole. A girl sang pretty songs. The old woman in front of me wailed and sobbed, it was the first time I’ve seen anyone mourn the earthquake’s devastation. Haitians are private with their sorrow. I silently watched her cry.

As we rode home I saw a crowd gather around a dead body of a young man who had just been hit by a car. Fuck.

The next morning my friend Alan was walking to the store when he saw a kid pull out a gun and shoot an older couple dead to steal their car. He called me to pick him up, Alan was shaken up and sitting on the curb in front of the dead couple as the police arrived. Now I know the Dragon.

The killing of the couple disturbs me. How can there be violence like this in the world? Father Rick and I have beers later and I ask him why the Dragon lives in Haiti. He asks me to imagine what it would feel like to watch your kid starve but not be able to feed them, or watch loved ones die of sickness you could prevent if you could afford to but can’t. Father Rick tells me that a world without dignity produces violence and hate. The first thing poverty takes is your dignity.

So much death this week; so much pain. Tania’s mom died yesterday as well; wish I were home to help out.

I rode in the back of a truck to a meeting with the WFP and got lost in the sorrow of this week; I could feel the light fade from me. At a red light a young girl was sitting under a tree playing with a doll, she spotted me in the back of the truck, flashed a huge smile and gave me a thumbs up. Just what I needed, I lit up, gave a thumbs up back and started to giggle, I remembered why I am here. I promised under my breath that I would build the most beautiful school for this girl where she could feel proud and loved and dignified; a fortress where the Dragon cannot enter. She was my angel and through her and in spite of the darkness and in spite of the Dragon there is hope, there is light and there is love. I am strengthened by this week maybe a bit shaken but not deterred. There is a proverb that says, “when it is dark enough you can see the stars.”

It certainly is dark enough now.

Love.

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