Ruth Farrell, Coordinator of the Presbyterian Hunger Program
We deeply appreciate your help and generosity raising funds for Haiti. So far Presbyterians have given $34,000 for seeds in Haiti through PHP. That’s above and beyond the $9.3 million raised for general Haiti disaster relief through PDA, $500,000 of which was designated for seeds in Haiti. This means more than 30,000 farmers are receiving seeds and tools which will help feed many of the refugees n
ow living in the countryside with relatives or in camps.
Jessica Maudlin (PHP staff) is in Haiti for 2 months to assist PHP’s Joining Hands partner, FONDAMA, with the logistics and bookkeeping of buying and distributing seeds and tools. She is living at the Training Center of the Peasants’ Movement of Papay, a member of the FONDAMA network. I thought you would enjoy reading a letter she just wrote about her experience so far (see below).
With a grateful heart,
Ruth
Jessica Maudlin Reports
“W pa alle?”
“No m’ap rete la”
“W pa pe sa?”
This conversation happened just moments after I watched Bruce Reyes-Chow, Ruth Farrell, Doug Welch, Maria Arroyo, and Pix Mahler, the PC(USA) delegation pull out of the drive way of Lakay, MPP’s training center. With them went Carlos Cardenas, a man on whom, I’m sort of relying for initial direction. He’ll be back in a few days but in the mean time…..
“You aren’t going?” she asked.
“No” I replied “I’m staying here”
“You aren’t afraid?”
My heart jumped into my mouth. No, my friend, anxious maybe about the work, and my ignorance, frustrated maybe, with my heavy tongue in speaking this language that I know. But afraid? Never. As much as I stand out, as uncomfortable as I may be at times, one thing that remains true is that there is no fear. My heart is home.
After her shock at the Creole coming out of my mouth wore off she expressed her delight at my presence. I often feel awkward about those expressions, but as we walked down the road together she told me her name was Marjorie.
She is a refugee from Port au Prince, staying at Lakay with a little girl, named Accenes. She stays in a room that she says has 6 people in it, herself and 5 young girls. She seems to have taken over the role of supervisor. “I’m the oldest she says, so I make order. She walks me to her room and points out the number over the door. “Vingt-Kat, se kote m’rete” “24, that’s where I live.” When I ask if Accenes is part of her family, she looks at me confused. “No” she says, “but her mother couldn’t take care of her, so I’m helping.”
As we stand talking, the girls that live in her room file out to greet me, constantly shocked when I get beyond the greeting on “Bonjou!”. Polly, Ester, Katya, and Tumi all giggle as I repeat their names over and over out loud trying desperately to remember them. “Do you have any children?” they want to know. I answer that I do not. Given that children are a gift and assuming I desire them, they correct me, “Pa ko” Not yet. In all things, Haitians speak with faith. “Are you married?” “No.” Do you have a boyfriend?” I do not know how to translate an “it’s complicated with” relationship status from Facebookese to Creole so I just say yes. What follows appears to be laughs of relief. “Good” they say. “Did he come with you?” You see how one lie necessitates another?
Changing the subject I asked Marjorie how she knew to come to Papay, if she had family here? “No,” she says. “My family is from Aux Cayes, “bien loin d’ici” well far from here. I lost everything in the “treblement terre” and when I was running from Port au Prince there was a bus sent by the department of Hinche that came to rescue refugees. I ran to catch it. I showed them my identity card and here I am. The earthquake happened on a Tuesday, Wednesday I arrived and I had an operation just 15 days ago.” And shows me the scar on her ribcage under her arm.
Polly comes to bring me a map of Haiti and point out all the area’s of Haiti so that I can see where they are from, some closer to Hinche than others. All brought here together.
They ask about my family and I share some photographs with them. Majorie tells me she is sorry that she has no photos to share with me. I tell her I understand and ask if she would tell me about them, so that I can paint a picture in my head.
She has three children she tells me. A 13 year old, a 8 year old, and 4 year old; all boys. I ask with caution where the children are, knowing they are not with her and fearing the worst, given what she has already told me. She tells me that they are with her mother, because she has no means of caring for them or even going to get them, but she hopes to find work and be able to do so soon.
According to her she is one of 100 people that are currently living on MPP’s compound.
One story. One in One Hundred stories here at Lakay. One Hundred stories in Hundreds of Thousands more stories here in a Haiti, a people shaken but not destroyed or defined by the earthquake.
-Jessica Maudlin, April 2010
