Don’t Forget About Haiti Dr. Fonie Pierre
The following account of the aftermath of the 2021 earthquake in Haiti illustrates the type of crisis addressed by Catholic Relief Services around the world. For nearly 80 years, the mission of this arm of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops has been to assist impoverished and disadvantaged people of all faiths all around the world. CRS works in the spirit of Catholic social teaching to promote the sacredness of human life and the dignity of the human person. Following this piece, we include conversations with both Ambassador Ken Hackett and Sean Callahan, former and current leaders of CRS, who offer perspectives on their careers and on the work performed by the organization globally.
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you can still hear the music from the funerals. Everywhere you turn, it sounds like mourning. A curtain of grief hangs in the air. Overhead, helicopters shuttle in supplies. Nearby, heavy-duty construction vehicles dig through the rubble. It has been about a month since a 7.2 earthquake devastated southern Haiti, but for those of us living through its aftermath, it feels like we’ve lived through a thousand years. The earthquake killed more than 2,200 people and injured many more. It also damaged about 130,000 homes. Alarmingly, hundreds of people are still missing. Life here in Les Cayes is challenging. Gone are many of our municipal buildings, shops, and cultural landmarks, including our cherished cathedral. Some days I close my eyes to the destruction. It’s estimated that about half a million families need support. In certain areas, in the streets ,
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c21 resources | spring/summer 2022
there is significant damage to infrastructure—water systems are damaged and no longer functional, or the water is dirty and not usable. With everything that’s happened, some people wonder whether Haiti is cursed. It can feel that way. In recent months, we’ve dealt with drought, hunger, the COVID-19 pandemic, and unprecedented political instability, made worse by persistent gang violence. As you walk the streets, you see the despair on people’s faces. We can only bear so much. What I remember most during the earthquake is the noise. What started as heavy clanking turned into a loud rumble—like a construction truck was making its way through the neighborhood. But when the shaking began, I cried out to my 11-year-old daughter to get out of the house. Luckily, she heard me and scrambled to safety. We both did. In the chaos that followed came the hugs.
