With the 2015 hurricane season kicking into high gear, Floridians and Americans in general are being flooded with memories of the devastation caused by Katrina 10 years ago. Yet as tragic as the deadliest and costliest hurricane in U.S. history was, imagine having to live with post-traumatic conditions year-round, decade after decade.
So is the existence of the people of Haiti, where I recently visited with Elevate Haiti Ministries on my first mission trip. Eight months after retiring as editorial page editor at the Rochester (N.Y.) Democrat and Chronicle, the trip was an opportunity to get into the trenches. After 23 years of essentially telling residents of the Rochester region what they should and shouldn’t do, I welcomed the experience.
As expected, I found Haiti, long among the poorest nations on Earth, still buffeted by the headwinds of economic instability, an impotent democracy and inept leadership. Racism, classism and disease, too, still weigh heavily on the Caribbean nation of 10.6 million people. And when you throw in the after-effects of the 2010 earthquake that killed at least 100,000 people and left 1.5 million others homeless, Katrina almost seems like one of Florida’s routine afternoon thunderstorms in August.
Amazingly, during my nearly two-week stay at Elevate Haiti’s compound in one of Port Au Prince’s poorest neighborhoods, I still saw genuine hope in the eyes of the people I met and observed. The eyes, remember, are windows to the soul. They reveal the heart.
Take the men and women, young and old, I saw on the crowded streets of the capital city on 100-plus degree early August days. With purpose, determination and creativity, they peddled goods ranging from clothing and furniture to small plastic pouches filled with cold water.
It’s in Haiti’s DNA — resiliency, a can-do attitude.These are the people who in 1804 established the only independent nation that resulted from a successful slave revolt. They defeated European superpowers such as France, Britain and Spain.
“In Haiti, ‘just do it,'” said Moise Desir, who taught himself English by talking with American soldiers sent to Haiti in 1994 after the government of Jean-Bertrand Aristide was overthrown. “Whether it’s construction, auto mechanics, sewing or whatever, we just need time to pay attention for a few days. We are very clever.”
They are not to be pitied. Their industrious, “keep it moving” spirit is unmistakable hope and heart firmly rooted in their faith. And they grandly wear it not only on their sleeves but their taxis. Battered pickup trucks used to transport more than a dozen people at a time tout Jesus instead of products and services. Messages such as “Jesus Saves” and “Trust God” are plastered over the tops of windshields in bold letters.
I was especially impressed by the 12 boys, ages 5 to 14, our missions group was tasked with relocating to a new housing unit at the compound. They represent what Elevate Haiti founders, Pastor Marc E. Mareus and his wife, Gislene, set out to do 12 years ago — help build a stronger homeland. Along with dispensing very basic medical services to the compound’s neighborhood residents, Elevate Haiti provides the boys, some of them orphans, with educational and physical needs. Equally important, it’s also equipping them spiritually.
“Most of them have single parents who can’t afford to take care of them,” said Roosevelt Mareus, eldest son of the founders and Elevate Haiti’s Rochester-based president. “We’re raising them to be men.”
Indeed, Mareus, whose day job is director of Rochester Equal Opportunity Center, which provides tuition-free academic and career programs to low-income students, is an example of the kind of leadership Elevate Haiti is preparing for the future. He rose from a job as a security guard at REOC 15 years ago to his current role as its dean. Mareus is also a minister at his church and is studying for a doctorate.
A decade after Katrina, recovery for Haiti is no way near that in resource-rich New Orleans, but there are plenty of hopeful signs. Foremost, hope still reigns among Haiti’s hard-driving people and their supporters.
James F. Lawrence, a graduate of Jones High School, lives in Live Oak.
Respond