When I think of Haiti today, I don’t see the swollen bodies piled at the morgue or other images from the news coverage of the recent catastrophe. No matter how many of the new horrifying photographs I see, my mind jumps back to three weeks before the quake.
I see the smiling faces of the children who gathered beside the water truck we brought to their neighborhood in Cité Soleil, the sprawling slum in Port-au-Prince labeled by many as the most dangerous place in the Western Hemisphere. I hear their hysterical laughter as they posed for our camera. I hear their quiet voices saying, “Bonjour! Comment ça va? Comment t’appelles tu?” asking how we were and our names while softly sliding their small hands in our palms as we danced down dirt streets—singing, clapping and smiling.
I was there because I am a board member of an organization called Artists for Peace and Justice (APJ), founded by filmmaker Paul Haggis in 2009. After Paul visited the country and became familiar with the incredible initiatives of Father Rick Frechette, an American doctor and community organizer who has worked in Haiti for more than 20 years, APJ formed a partnership with him. Father Rick runs the only free pediatric hospital in Port-au-Prince, as well as a special-needs hospital, two orphanages, 20 street schools and three trade schools. He also distributes the only free, clean drinking water to the people in the slums.
With his deep respect for the Haitian people and a true understanding of their culture, Father Rick is able to identify the greatest needs and most effective solutions. Of course his expertise and established infrastructure is now more critical than ever. One hundred percent of the funds APJ raises goes directly toward sustaining these lifesaving programs.
We were able to ensure that necessary equipment, doctors and supplies got safely to Father Rick’s hospital immediately after the quake, but many children and staff members—our companions only weeks before—were buried alive. My heart breaks when I imagine the students at “my school” (the one I proudly sponsored) being trapped by the structure they were so grateful to study in, but we are rebuilding in their honor, with a renewed sense of commitment to the children of Haiti who have remained so strong in the face of this horror.
We must not let Haiti become synonymous with hopelessness. I think of Gregory, a disabled teen at one of Father Rick’s orphanages, who— despite having no legs and having been born into abject poverty—told me he would become a famous singer like Wyclef Jean. He had every reason to give up, but instead he knew no limits. That is the strong, hopeful heart of Haiti. Visit artistsforpeaceandjustice.com.
