Leah's been with the Foundation for Peace only since the beginning of January. The following is excerpted from her personal blog.
It is easy now to break up my time here so far in to two segments. Before the earthquake and after the earthquake. I say this because I feel that so much has changed since the earthquake hit Haiti.
Before the earthquake, everyone here in my house was busy preparing for education conferences, unpacking shipping containers, following baseball teams coming from the states, and preparing for a large nursing team.
A few days after the earthquake in Haiti we left for Jimani. Jimani is a town in the DR located at the border between the Dominican and Haiti and is about 4-5 hours from Port-au-Prince.
On the way in to the town I was shocked by what I saw. The entire town had been turned in to one large trauma center. Virtually every church, hospital, school, pharmacy, and every possible building had been turned into trauma centers. Huge army tents had been sent up all over town housing patients that the other buildings couldn't accommodate. Baseball fields and other large grassy areas had been turned into helipads for the helicopters that continuously brought in more patients from the capital city.
Pastor Brony Novas, who's working with our group, was in the car ahead of us. He called and told us that what we were about to see was really horrible. That it was going to be really hard and he offered us the chance to stay at a local pastor's house if we didn't think we could handle it. We explained to him that we were ready.
After Pastor Brony's call, I started to pray silently. I prayed God would give me the strength to get over my fears of not being able to handle what I was about to see so that I could serve God and the Haitians to my fullest ability.
Since the center of Jimani was so busy, I figured our relief site couldn't possibly be busy as well. I soon found out that I'd greatly underestimated the number of victims who were able to cross the border in search of help. When we arrived at our makeshift hospital, a soon-to-be orphanage, hundreds of refugees flooded the area.
Staring at all the chaos around me, I felt like I was in a war scene. I took one deep breath in, (Be still), and exhaled, (and know that I am God.) and got out of the car. We were all put right to work by Renee. Ruth and I found all the people who were not injured in the earthquake and organized them to move patients around and basically do whatever the doctors needed. We moved patients from one area to another by picking up their mattresses with the victims on them. We organized ambulances and later trucks to transport patients from one building to the other where doctors performed amputations and operations.
At one point, Renee told me he wanted four patients moved from a grassy spot outside to a room inside. I was relieved they were finally being moved out of the sun. Later I learned that Renee wanted them moved because these patients’ injuries were too great and he wanted them to have a private room until they died.
I was surprised that I didn't really have a period of "getting used to" people dying and seeing dead bodies and horrible injuries. I guess when you are put in this type of situation you recognize that no one will benefit from you crying. You just enter in to work mode and stop thinking about what fears you may have had.
Chaos continued throughout the day and actually became worse whenever there was a shift in doctors. There was no continuity between shifts and doctors were not communicating with one another about patients, medicines, techniques or anything. nothing. As a non-medical person I had little to offer but muscle, willingness to do anything, and love.
Love. I couldn't help but feel love for these patients. While the doctors performed amazing feats taking care of the physical needs of the patients, the enormity of the situation, the general chaos and the language barrier made it near impossible for the doctors to really communicate with the patients. As a result, patients were fearful, bewildered and confused. I saw patients wake from surgery missing arms and legs and not understand why.
One woman, with a broken leg, was surrounded by tons of people who were all yelling at her while she lay sobbing on a mattress, holding her baby. They wanted her to get off the mattress, but she refused. I don't know what came over me, but I pushed my way through the crowd and even though I don't speak Creole, I was able to tell everyone to go away.
I knelt down beside the woman and tried to console her. I waved Olson over, a 22-year-old boy I'd befriended and whose mother was at the hospital. He spoke English and Creole and translated for me. We learned the woman thought she was being forced to get in the back of the truck so they could take her back to Haiti because she had been treated. She thought that she'd be dropped off in Haiti, with no family, no food, a new baby and a broken leg. In reality she was being moved to another refugee camp for post-op recovery. Once Olson and I explained the situation to her she left relieved knowing that she was still going to be cared for and watched over.
After this encounter I made it a point to make eye contact and smile with the patients I walked over and between. I started to understand that maybe God sent me this way so that we could minister to one another like this. With love and compassion and simple smiles that lets one another know you acknowledge them, you feel for them, and that you are here with them. There is no one beneath us. We are all the same. Created equal in God's eyes.
By about 3am most of our patients had fallen asleep. The chaos quieted. About four hours later the morning silence was broken by the most beautiful thing I have ever heard in all my 23 years. Songs of praise and worship filled the room that held our most serious patients (some of whom were dying). All of them were singing. All of them. Those who could sit, supported one another. Those who were paralyzed or couldn't sit up, raised their hands as high as they could. Everyone sang, worshipped, praised God, and thanked Him for all that He is and all that He has given us.
It is an amazing privilege to meet people like Olson, his mother and all the other patients, who are so strong in their faith. Though they have lost much (even everything) they remember to give God thanks for their blessings.
I ask that you continue to pray for the Haitians who are still in need of medical care. Pray for the doctors and the volunteers who are reaching out to the millions of people affected by this tragedy, and please pray for the Foundation for Peace that God would continue to guide us to where and how He wants us to serve.
To read Leah's entry in its entirety, click here to go to her blog.
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