The content may be difficult for some to view, however these images were taken to connect us to the experiences of others in the hope we can better understand their suffering.

Haiti’s Latest Earthquake, 2021

Life Amid the Ruins

 ‘If there is life, there is hope’ – Chrislome Lorbensky, Survivor

 A massive 7.2 magnitude earthquake struck Haiti at 8:29 AM EDT on August 14, 2021.  It affected a large area of rural southwestern provinces, killing at least a confirmed 2,250 people and injuring 12,000. Countless families were displaced, leaving the Caribbean Island nation in the grip of yet another humanitarian crisis. 

On good days, life is desperately hard in Haiti.  A land of juxtapositions – a breathtaking beauty of spirit and a brutal reality of the streets.  Tragedy befalls the country repeatedly.  Political anarchy, gang violence, natural disasters and endless floods.  In 2010 a massive quake killed more than 300,000 people in Port-au-Prince.  Ten years later the island country still hadn’t recovered when the earth trembled again and life for so many was again eternally altered.

An initial rush to rescue soon became recovery as bodies were pulled and quickly buried.  But for most Haitians it’s not about dying in the quake but rather living in the rubble of shattered lives and altered destinies where the legendary Haitian resilience survives.  They mourn, pray then move on with the task of living. 

The town of Maniche is a teeth-rattling bumpy drive from Les Cayes where approximately 90% of buildings were destroyed or damaged. Yet hope endures in the wounded landscape.

Most residents initially sleep on the streets in fear of dangerous aftershocks numbering well over 300 in the early weeks after the disaster. But with nowhere to go and plagued by tropical rains, they eventually move back inside fragile walls in imminent peril of collapse.

Brass bands lead funeral processions past broken buildings.  During a wake for Marie Herese Atimeus, vibrant villagers danced till dawn on the ruins of the home where she died. They sang, drank, partied.  Dominoes games lasted throughout the night under a full moon.  The next day they grieved as daughters threw themselves to the ground wailing. Grandchildren were passed over the gravesite in a poignant tradition and a son’s sorrowful cries of ‘Mama, Mama’ echoed through the air after the casket was lowered into the earth of their backyard.

Still, life goes on.  Amid the rubble women still have hair weaves braided, children frolic in play. Creole hymns waft through the air during church services as worshippers kneel in pews outside fallen buildings, an elderly matron removes dirt and green chunks of concrete from the floor of their house, one shovel at a time.

Men salvage iron from the wreckage to sell for direly needed income.  Aid is hampered by gang wars until a truce is declared to allow convoys to pass.  On the road to Maniche, the body of a gang member burns as local vigilantes serve up mob justice in a land where no law exists.  Folks rejoice as Chinook helicopters land in soccer fields and WFP convoys traverse rivers bringing much needed support.  Hands reach out for relief as frustrated townspeople fight for a bag of rice, a can of cooking oil. The elderly and most fragile are left empty handed, unable to navigate the unruly crowds.

Indeed, it takes a village as neighbors help each other heal while awaiting international aid.  A family builds a foundation in the driving rain after a week of huddling together during nights outside across town.  Pure joy erupted among the residents as precious tents were placed on the empty space that once housed their memories - amid clotheslines of recently washed laundry and the wreckage of their former lives. Indeed, there is no place like home.