From the Rubble

Just walked back from the hospital, where I was talking with Charmant, one of the security guards. He described a meeting held today by Peter, our human resource manager & assistant administrator. [I'd happened to catch the tail end of Peter's meeting, not knowing it was planned, but highly impressed by the initiative.]

Charmant told me excitedly of his personal ideas on making this place better, saying the guards want good operation; they have pride in their job. I stood there, beat as a mule wanting nothing but sleep. He works day & night every chance he gets and remains animated.

Went to PaP today to pick up the new group, always a logistician's dream. 24 people and 60+ bags fit into 3 vehicles and the HSC's faithful Taihatsu truck. No bags, and even no bodies, were lost.

On the way there, rode with HSC driver Bellange and another fellow. We passed the country's single oil refinery where rows and rows of trucks are parked. [There has been an extreme gas & diesel shortage here for the last two weeks, countrywide. ND siphoned from its broken vehicles. We struggled to keep power 60% of time at hospital].

"Tèt charge," my two accompaniers said repeatedly [phrase expressing frustration & exasperation with understanding and some humor]. The problem is centralization. People don't have a way to live outside the city. How can we rebuild like that?

On the way home, I was odd man out and perched on luggage in back of the Taihatsu. I liked seeing from that angle. Things that flashed by previously keep catching me now, sometimes almost paralyzing. I worry I've become too accustomed to seeing rubble,. To seeing the camps with Canadian & US tarps, but little else. To signs still hanging that read "we need help," in English. To the slum streets of Martissant. To marchans selling their goods in slushy mud of markets. To the trash in Portail Leogane, which has been piling up for decades.

Where will it all go?

I think people like Charmant have ideas.