Gratitude and grief, grief and gratitude
...Excerpts from a journal
By Sr. Mary Alban Bouchard, C.S.J.
May/June 2010
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Above: Sr. Mary Alban Bouchard of the Sisters of St. Joseph stands in front of her severely damaged home.
Day 1, January 12: We were at the Diocesan Conference Centre during a Caribbean Religious Mission Assembly. During our coffee break, at about 4:40 p.m., there came a rumbling sound that became a trembling, then a powerful shaking. Someone called out “tremblement de terre” and at that, everyone was thrown to the floor. The huge coffee urn went down and people tried to scurry on all fours to get outside. There was no control; we were flung. We were fortunate to be in a one storey building that did not fall on us. Our water supply and telephones were cut, even cell phone service was down. We stayed outside, stunned, sitting on the few cement benches or on the ground. There were periodic tremors; a strong one at 11:00 p.m. We slept on the ground, side-by-side, as best we could.
Floods, hurricanes, cyclones are one thing, but nothing holds the terror of the earth convulsing under your feet. The stars were never so beautiful, so clear and close as in the post earthquake blackout, as if the celestial order was compensating for the terrestrial chaos.
Day 2, January 13: ...None of us yet knew the dimensions of the quake. When we made our way into the heart of Port-au-Prince haltingly, stopped by piles of rubble and having to turn back and try another artery, seeing the bodies lined along the side of the street and people searching for the faces of loved ones, it began to dawn on us and we wondered what we would find when we arrived at our homes. We drove into the yard of College Marie-Anne where I lived. All was rubble. Our residence was crumbled with the contents spilling down amid twisted iron and plaster as if some huge hand had crushed it. I stood there in awe, realizing I had been spared. The yard was filling up with homeless and injured people, moth-ers and children, neighbours. News of casualties and deaths began to trickle in from the streets...
Day 3, January 14: ...At this season, hot days are followed by a chill breeze from the sea during the night. We had little to cover us and rain would have caused panic. We were spared and given the canopy of stars once more... In the morning, more news of casualties and damage... The face of Port-au-Prince was altered... I was sitting still a lot, making notes to help process what I was living and to record the courage, faith and resilience of the Haitian people. Neighbours and friends kept coming into the College to see if I was still alive.
Day 4, January 15: Rain held off again. The star-studded sky seemed to contradict us... We were living on the edge. Not only because of the blackout and lack of communication, and from sleeping on the ground with that cold breeze descending on us from the sea, but we were constantly aware of the next tremor that may come and come it did. We stopped counting. I could not give anything; my money was now inaccessible. I could only endure with the people...
Some of the extensive damage witnessed by Sr. Bouchard. Port au Prince, Haiti. January 2010.
Day 5, January 16: ...A quiet night except for shooting, which I presumed was about looting prevention... People were still coming into the yard to find a safe place. They had no yards! It was getting noisier. People cried out at every tremor. At nightfall the families marked out their little squares with a line of small rocks and they were orderly and friendly toward one another. We were all in the same fix and uncertainty. I walked about once more, bidding goodnight...
Day 6, January 17: ...There was snoring all night near me. To get warm, I briefly sneaked into the one building left up but cracked. I went back out and slept to 6:15 a.m. The celebration of liturgy was solemn, compassionate and pastoral... One of the Haitian young men brought a plastic chair for me to sit on. I was probably the oldest one there...
This day had four special gifts. One, Sr. Mary called from Matthew House early in the morning. Two, I reached Sr. Margaret. Three, the Eucharist. Four, the visit of Les and Peter from the Globe and Mail. Actually, five gifts: a new orangey silver sliver of moon at nightfall.
Day 7, January 18: ...I sat writing and reflecting and praying, as I do several times a day, when two little girls, part of a family of five I have been playing with, dashed up to me, smothered me with kisses and then ran away giggling. Unless you become as little children... I knew my heavenly Father was caring for me. I had known it since the first rumble of the earthquake.
Day 8, January 19: ...This “evenement” (happening), as many here named it, had a quality of end time as described in Matthew’s Gospel, Chapter 24: “As at the time of Noah, while all were unaware, the flood came, so. Then two men will be in the field; one will be taken and one left. Two women will be grinding corn together, one will be taken and one will be left.” It was amazingly so with buildings and people alike in this city... And I prayed, prayed in silence with no words. There were no words... Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart.
Day 9, January 20: ...I was writing smaller and smaller, as it was my last sheet of paper. What was hard was the inability to keep in touch... Still, in my reflections I came to the knowledge that the greatest invention of humans was not harnessing electricity, nor was it telephones, or gunpowder, or nuclear fission, or rockets to the moon. The greatest invention of humans was SOAP. Water is greater but we didn’t invent it. ...These days were teaching me how to live one day at a time, how to be at peace with complete insecurity. Yet the stars were so brilliant, I felt close to heaven... I made a definite decision to present myself at the Embassy next morning...
Day 10, January 21: ...Jean drove me to the Canadian Embassy... I felt overcome by grief at leaving. I thought I would never return to Port-au-Prince... I had received my travel document... I prayed for no rain and then fell asleep in peace.
Day 11, January 22: ...I had another wave of grief at going. I had tried so hard to stay but there was no point, no money, no place to go, no communication, no more choice. Please God, let me come back... Finally I was on the bus to the airport...
Day 12, January 23: ...The flight to Montreal Military Base arrived at 4:00 a.m. We were met by the Red Cross workers with warm blankets and plastic mukluks which felt wonderful... I just can’t describe how beautiful the volunteers were, how welcoming to the Haitians, a good number of whom were children and the elderly... I arrived in Toronto at 7:00 p.m. Many sisters were waiting...
I know I speak for the Haitian people, especially of Port-au-Prince, in saying a deep-felt “Thank you” for your generous and practical love in the recent donations to our Haiti Fund for rescue and restoration.
Our Lady’s Missionaries wishes to thank Sr. Mary Alban of the Sisters of St. Joseph for sharing these reflections from her journal. We wish her Godspeed as she prepares to return to Haiti where she works with women and their children in their efforts to get out of poverty.
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