Day Eleven: Feeling Bad Feeling Good
I hesitate to even mention this because it’s a story we’ve all heard a thousand times in the past month: the tragic tale of another disaster victim. And yet that doesn’t make their stories any less heartbreaking, any less powerful. So here goes.
While walking up one of Port-au-Prince’s most wiped-out streets, I met a guy named Daniel and his 2-year-old son, Dani. They had just strolled up to the pile of debris that was their home. The mouth-wide-open look on little Dani’s face told of shock and confusion. In the street camp where his family now stays, Dani had been crying, asking for his crib. So his father took him, reluctantly, to see that he wouldn’t be able to sleep in that crib again. Eleven people died in that building, including several from his family. He was saved by a fast-thinking aunt who carried him outside.
I watched Dani clinging to his daddy’s leg, and I wondered what must be going through his toddler mind. I wonder if he’ll remember. I wonder if he’ll ever forget. Daniel said his son is smart – he even knows who lived and who died. He knows the store in front of their home has fallen to the ground. This was the first time I’d truly seen the earthquake’s crippling effect on a small child. All I can say is it was unbelievably sad, and I’ll never forget that face.
As I stepped back to survey the damage to Daniel’s house from a few feet away, my interpreter uncomfortably stammered, “Um, Grant? You’re stepping on someone’s tomb.” I looked down at the mound of rocks and charred metal under my feet and quickly moved away. Two bodies were buried right there at the foot of a brick wall on the road’s edge. A few victims were taken to the cemetery. Others were burned where they lay. Still more remained underneath the rubble. These two were given a final resting place fit for no one.
After so many sad sights this morning, the afternoon was uplifting. I interviewed a street vendor who is a magnificent character. I can’t spoil it for you here (you’ll have to wait for the radio feature), but let’s just say his approach to business is unique. He makes Haitians laugh and smile every day, and right now that’s no small feat. I stalked him for three days, trying to pin him down for an interview. When I finally did, I have never seen anyone so happy to tell his story. He’s been selling in the street and lightening the mood in Port-au-Prince since Jan. 12, but he said this was the first time an “international journalist” has been so persistent about featuring his business. Even though he sleeps in a tiny metal shack in a displacement camp, this guy is definitely a bright spot in a place where it would be so easy to live in darkness and sorrow. A good way to end the day.
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