Caged feat. Amy Joy

Originally posted at relief.theworldrace.org by Uncaged on 14 June 2101

A continuation from my last post. This is my story of the Caged experience.

My story
As we piled in the back of the truck and left the RENMEN Foundation compound on a trip downtown to view the earthquake wreckage, I did not realize that we were in a cage. I had been in the cab of the truck the previous day and the back of the truck was just that - the back of the truck.

We drove past familiar landmarks: the church with the missing front wall, the river bed filled with trash and rooting pigs, scores of Haitians selling food and wares on the side of the road. We drove on streets pitted with potholes and puddles. We drove ever closer to areas that sustained the most damage during the earthquake. We drove past watching eyes.

I became aware of the watching eyes and the reality of being in a cage as we approached the presidential palace. The back of the truck was boxed in by tight steel crosshatch. The doors were latched and padlocked shut. Our roof was a tarp to keep off the rain. A literal cage. We slowed to bet a better view of the wrecked palace. One of the once-pristine white domes had crunched into the ground floor, settling at an alarming 45 degree angle to the rest of the building. The remainder of the second floor was no better off, and the ground floor was in shambles.

I wanted to get out and poke around, get a better look and find out the story of who had been inside on January 12, how many people had died, what the plans were for rebuilding and restoring the palace to its rightful majesty. But we had to remain in the truck. I felt like a tourist taking pictures at a spectacle. And I felt judged by the Haitians who witnessed our truck passing by, like maybe they thought we imagined ourselves too good to even get out of our cage to take a moment of silence in honor and remembrance of what had happened.

We left the palace grounds and headed deeper into downtown. There were slabs of concrete lying on the ground, slabs that used to support homes and lives. Rubble piles were a constant theme. Some buildings were still standing, although who knows if they were stable or unsafe. There were always a lot of people on the streets continuing with their lives.

As we drove on in our cage, I was saddened by the loss of life and destroyed buildings, but I did not have the reaction I thought I would. I thought I would cry and have pains in my chest because I simply could not express my grief over the situation. I can't necessarily explain why I didn't quite feel that way. The trip was frustrating, but I sat on my bench and sent out little prayers, hoping they would find their mark.

I processed the ride later that night and thought of Haiti. There were a handful of people who were out working on rebuilding their homes, but the vast majority of people were simply living their lives among the rubble. I thought maybe it's still too close for them to be rebuilding their houses. Maybe they aren't ready to move on and let go so they choose to live in tents among the rubble.

It was about this time that I realized that the story of Haiti is close to my heart. Over the past five years I have experienced immense loss of life, destruction of relationships, and have moved so many times that currently I don't have a house but a storage unit. I am in the rubble and have not yet been ready to build again.

I am Haiti.