Watching and helping from afar

Last Tuesday, there was an earthquake in my homeland of Haiti. Though I wasn’t directly affected, I know people who were. Half of my family lives in Haiti. When that earthquake occurred, I felt a pain that I had never felt before—my heart was heavy, and I tried not to think about what the results of this natural disaster would look like. At first, I didn’t give much thought to what had happened. OK, I thought, this was just another natural disaster, just something that happens. But this was breaking news on CNN­—surely it must be big, right?

Then came the frenzy. When we started receiving phone calls from family and friends in the States, I knew it was serious. When I realized this, the pain came. It was one that could only be eased by sleep, and that’s what I did this past week—I slept. Though the pain was gone, images flashed in my dreams of places and people that I knew. For 24 hours, my family feverishly tried to contact our relatives in Haiti. No response. Grief and fear permeated the air around us. Then we made contact. It was a five-minute phone call, but one that told us almost everything we needed to know about our loved ones—no bad news so far for the family. But we only spoke to one person. We needed to talk to everyone else and confirm. So again, we desperately took to the phones.

The Pain. Will it go away? Most people who are not directly connected to this particular tragedy (i.e., who have no ties to Haiti, who have not been to the disaster zone, or who do not have a close friend or family member affected) often feel a certain way regarding what has happened—sympathetic perhaps? Or sad? But that particular sympathy and sadness for them is, I imagine, temporary. It is not something that they constantly think about or purposely try to forget. For people like me, who are Haitian, raised in Haiti, have family there, or who recognize the familiar landmarks, the feeling is beyond sadness. Try gasping for air only to find that your throat tightens. Try not to cry when you think that there is a possibility that your friends are dead or dying. Think of the possibility that a country that you love so much is close to disappearing before your eyes. How can you move on when you have such thoughts? And then to hear the plight of the ones that you care for when you call, telling you that they are starving. Think of how helpless you are, unable to physically help, move, or protect. You want to catch the next plane there, but that—you know—is far from possible.

All you can do is watch the news. Watch the photos and pray. Watch. Listen. Donate. Pray. It is easy to feel small and helpless in such an overwhelming situation, but we can’t give in to that feeling—we must do something. We all have a responsibility to care for those in need, to not forsake the lost. We can raise money for the rebuilding of homes, schools, and other structures, to ensure that these buildings will have a better chance of survival if, God forbid, disaster strikes again. We can support NGOs offering relief—clean water, food, clothing, and medical assistance—to bring hope to the thousands stripped, in a moment, of all they had.

Ten days ago, all eyes were on Haiti. When I first saw the devastation, I cringed. Time for the bad press. I heard the usual: poorest country in the Western Hemisphere, corrupt government, lack of education. At first I was angry, but then I saw the response to the press, good and bad. This time it did not only come from the United States. People worldwide genuinely wanted to help. I was simply wowed by the international response. For that, I thanked God that Haiti wouldn’t be forgotten. Haiti was on center stage. It took one of the worst natural disasters in the region for the world to bring awareness to the plight of the Haitian people—yes, a natural disaster. But to the world, thank you! To the governments contributing money and manpower, thank you. My only hope is that Haiti is not forgotten in the weeks and years ahead. One way in which Columbia students are helping is by coming together. The Haitian Students Association and the Caribbean Students Association, along with other student groups across campus, are planning different ways to raise money for the relief effort—something that every Columbia students can be a part of.

The author is a Columbia College sophomore. She is secretary of the Haitian Students Association.