It’s a bright sunny day here in Port-au-Prince. A slight breeze gently sweeps the trees rattling the leaves with the delicacy of a single breath. The startling blue sky melts with the sparkling calm waters just on the horizon; the ocean, a giant mirror reflecting the sun’s rays, a mirror bejeweled by diamonds. Mother Nature is perfect and peaceful and beautiful. It is hard to beleive the devestation she has caused.
The number is not exact, but thousands upon thousands have perished and as time grows so does the number of victims-victims of the same Mother Nature who now appears so benevolent.
I am in shock and disbelief at the hellish scene before my eyes. Mountains of concrete broken in pieces like shattered glass. Clouds of dust looming over the crumpled buildings hovering over the dead and dying trapped inside like souls unwilling to leave this Earth.
“C’est le fin du monde!" someone cries over and over in the distance, their voice a broken record. It’s the end of the world. I feel very much alive, but maybe they are right. Maybe the world has met its end and now we unfortunate souls are lost to eternity.
I remember when the quake hit. I was returning from the market when the ground shook suddenly with a vengeful fury. It was as if the earth was about to crack in half and swallow all of humanity into the darkness of its core. I was only several meters away from the house and I rushed towards the building to get Maman and Myrian out before the building collapsed. I didn’t arrive in time. I called out their names and clawed at the pieces of concrete until my strength and voice were gone. All through the night I sat atop the remains of the house praying for any sign of human life beneath the broken slab, but none has come. Still, I will wait. And wait. And wait.
