It was the blind man who spoke English who intrigued me, the many who could see before the earthquake, then described the moment when the ground began shaking and he could only see blood.....then nothing at all. He had learned English in the Bahamas, a dangerous boat ride from Haiti, but a worthwhile risk for him; he was one of the few who made it to the shores of the Bahamas unscathed by police or turbulent oceans waves, and perhaps found a little work for a few years before heading home. He was hoping for his vision to be restored. Imagine, feeling the earth shake and then a curtain of blood closes on it forever, trying to navigate the destruction without seeing it, and also seeing it all so clearly. Yet, how clearly he understood it all! He had been unable to work since the earthquake and was not able to get much food, having not eaten in three days. He looked like he hadn't eaten in three days, bony and angular and a little shaky.
I snuck him two granola bars, fearing the watchful eyes of the other hungry people in the room.
While I marvel at the ladies climbing with rubble, dodging holes revealing raw sewage, in heeled sandals while balancing a basket on top of their head, I am equally amazed by this blind man who still has unstoppable faith while being unstoppable as he headed home on those crazy, chaotic roads.
He will remain in my prayers.
Julie, when you have time and energy you leave wonderful (if not easy) images of your experience of Haiti and its people. On the one hand in these three you brought up my dreams of not being able to find a clean bathroom, and on another you showed me people so deprived, perhaps not of hope, but of freedom and imagination. Even at this distance I find such need overwhelming.
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