Life in Haiti goes on

Yesterday marked the one-year anniversary of the Haitian earthquake, which claimed an estimated 230,000 lives and destroyed approximately 500,000 homes. One year after the disaster, with a cholera epidemic raging and a political crisis looming, what is life like for the Haitian people? To find out, I decided to visit myself.

My curiosity stemmed from a personal connection with Haiti. In summer 2009, I lived and volunteered in Leogane, Haiti, through DukeEngage. I fell in love with the city and Haiti. The friends I made were some of the closest I have had. As fate would have it, Leogane was the epicenter of the earthquake. I was scared to see how the city had changed. But I was also thrilled to return to a place that means so much to me.

On Jan. 2, I landed in Toussaint L’Ouverture Airport in Port-au-Prince. Driving from Port-au-Prince to Leogane, you get a sense of the destruction. In every open space in Port-au-Prince, tent communities have sprung up. The lack of habitable space is so intense that hundreds have even been set up on the median separating each lane of the national highway. The most shocking moment of the drive was passing by the National Palace, a huge, incredibly beautiful structure in the middle of the city that symbolized the country. The Palace was destroyed in the earthquake and still lies in ruins.

As we made our way out to Leogane, the level of destruction only increased. Entire blocks extend without a single structure left standing. I hardly recognized my old street. The house I lived in is completely gone, replaced now by just an empty plot of land surrounded by collapsed buildings and rubble.

The scale of the destruction made it difficult for me to comprehend the earthquake’s effects at the individual level. I cannot relate to the people living in these camps. At least this is how I felt until I visited the tent community Petite Ville, or Little Village. This is where all of my friends have moved, a small tent community of just 37 people. When I visited this community, the reality of the earthquake hit me. This didn’t just happen to a huge group of anonymous people, it happened to individuals, with personal stories, dreams and ambitions. It happened to my friends! I could now finally see the faces affected by the disaster.

But instead of being sad, I found myself uplifted. The same smiles and laughs that I had grown accustomed to over two months were the same. Everything they lacked in physical possessions, they made up for with their love for one another. Their hospitality and kindness was beyond measure. They offered me the little they had to welcome me—even insisting on cooking me dinner. And there I was, with just about everything in the world but nothing to offer back. I was speechless and touched.

It was beautiful to see the way life has continued for this community since the earthquake. Two of my friends now have healthy babies, and even the dog has two new puppies. They confront the hardships of life here with a smile and faith that I am only beginning to understand.

Overall, life here is hard—but it is good. The people have humble ambitions, just asking for enough food to eat and a safe place to sleep, and I find myself perpetually inspired by their happiness, hope and indomitable spirits. But I am also disheartened because I know they deserve so much more from the rest of the world.