“Clear water is not always clean water!” I shout through a loudspeaker in the crowded open market of Léogâne, Haiti. “Dlo cle pa vle di dlo prop!” I have returned to my home, the poorest country in the western hemisphere, with Columbia UNICEF’s project designed to address diseases found in the contaminated water of Haiti. As the 2008 CIA report states, 80 percent of the population lives under the poverty line. In addition to a staggering 70 percent unemployment rate and a 50 percent rate of illiteracy on the island, almost every water source has become polluted with human waste due to the lack of a sewage sanitation system. The Pan-American Health Organization reports that more than half of all deaths in Haiti are due to water-borne diseases. As a member of Columbia University’s UNICEF, I initially memorized these statistics in order to familiarize myself with Haiti’s economic, social, and political crisis. However, the Hearts2Our Children in Haiti campaign taught me to place a greater emphasis on every individual instead of on statistical reports that inaccurately depict the plight of the poor Haitian population.
During my fall 2008 semester at Columbia University, I was warmly welcomed into the Columbia UNICEF family. From our extensive fundraising on campus and a generous donation from the global hydration company, Aquatabs, we obtained 100,000 1-L Aquatabs water purification tablets to donate to Haiti. Each tablet purifies one liter of water, killing germs for typhoid, hepatitis, cholera, and chronic diarrhea. These germs are carried in water used for cooking and drinking in Haiti. Shipping and receiving the tablets after they arrive in Haiti is a time-consuming and difficult process, but it could not prevent their long-awaited distribution in the Haitian province of Léogâne.
“Troi tablet pou yon galon!”, I continued, explaining to the mass of avid listeners that three Aquatabs tablets purify one gallon of water. Léogâne is a coastal city in Haiti, located about two hours away from Port-Au-Prince, the capital. A major challenge that I faced while distributing the tablets was figuring out how to communicate effectively with the people of Léogâne about the function of the tablets without the use of reading material. The people of Léogâne are familiar with the gallon and the “bokit,” which is equivalent to about five gallons, instead of the liter. Also, since much of the population is illiterate, a team of family members who volunteered in the effort and I had to use Creole, Haiti’s dialect, to verbally teach and repeat to each person lessons of basic water sanitation.
As I repeated as loudly as possible, “Kite tablet yo nan dlo a pou trent minute” (“Leave the tablets in the water for 30 minutes before drinking”), reaching in and out of the box to give Aquatabs to the thousands of needy hands, I saw a lady staring at me. She was sitting alone under a tent, watching the produce she was selling. Her gaze invited me to walk over and offer her some Aquatab tablets. “Grimel [light-skinned girl],” she said, “if only you had come in June, you could have saved my son Daniel from death.” She explained that last summer, her three-year-old son had a very high fever, refused to eat, and often complained of headaches. A local health worker told her that her son had typhoid fever, but she would not be able to cure his suffering as she did not have enough money for his treatment. According to Daniel’s mother, because she was a poor and single mother, she was undeserving of Daniel.
As she spoke, I felt a sudden sadness come over me. I told myself, “If you cry, she will cry—stop!” Once I walked away to get the tablets for Daniel’s mother, however, I secretly wiped my eyes and brought her back all that I could fit in my hands. Upon my return, I saw a light in her eyes. I knew, however, that this joy was not merely due to the water purification tablets, but also to her realization that someone cares. Although Daniel’s mom learned the importance of Aquatabs from me, I gained immeasurable insight about the effect of illiteracy and poverty on the Haitian population from her. This was insight that the latest CIA report could not provide. I only responded to her “Thank you” and “God bless you” with a simple “You are welcome” and a smile, but I should have thanked her for sharing with me a piece of herself. It is this story that has placed me in more direct contact with my Haitian cultural identity. This story has allowed me to realize that all of the Daniels, not the “70 percents” or the “47 percents”, are the driving force behind CU UNICEF’s Hearts2Our Children in Haiti Campaign and should be the focus of the Columbia UNICEF group in their fight for humanitarian aid. This journey has led me think of experiences like these as purifying measures for the soul, unifying contrasting worlds every time a grateful “Mesi” or “Bon Dieu beni ou” is voiced.
