Before I left for Haiti, a great friend of mine named Dan told me to observe the eyes of the Haitians.  Initially, I thought it was a “cute” idea, one that I would come around to if I thought of it, or had the time.  Off the plane and out of the airport, I was more focused on my eyes – what I was seeing, where to look to see something new, where to never look again.  It wasn’t selfish, ignorant or closed, rather an mindless habit.

What I saw was pure devastation.  It is absolutely impossible to prepare for the sights…the reality…of Haiti.  Cities of tents ravaged with cholera lie in open dirt fields.  Mountains of garbage cast shadows over refrigerator boxes that house families of three, four, five, sometimes more.  Diseased dogs roam the streets, feeding on the corpses of roadkill (sometimes other dogs), digging through burned piles of trash, and drinking the running streams of urine from the many people who go to the bathroom on the sidewalk.  Children bathe in rivers littered with garbage, colored green.  And the smell…

After the first 30 minutes on the island, my eyes could take no more.  They moved, focused, and my eyelids twitched, but somewhere between pupil and brain, there was a disconnect.  I didn’t want to register these images, so I decided not to, unconsciously.  The only thing I could “feel” was the warm sun and steady island breeze, even amid all this suffering.

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