Heartache for Haiti

An opulent retreat emerged at the edge of an impoverished country. Two vastly different worlds connected only by land. Visitors on the floating city were isolated from the reality of Haiti.

Off the ship, a beautiful section of beach, developed by the cruise company, catered to happy guests. Clean restrooms, food venues, a water park, zip lines and hundreds of lounge chairs offered conveniences and relaxation. The oasis of tranquility, entertainment, and luxury delighted visitors.

Each step in the sand, reminded me of the horrible devastation, hunger, and death on the island. Just over the mountains, life was different.

A tiny slice of the real Haiti appeared at the craft market. Fortunately, the cruise line offered local vendors an opportunity to sell their handmade crafts and mass produced tourist items. Stall after stall offered similar t-shirts, jewelry, hats, bags, paintings ...

Neatly dressed, in regulation orange dress shirts, vendors beckoned, called and cajoled as they played flutes, held up hats, and motioned lookers to come inside. Each one hoping to make sales to support families. Would they make enough?

Charlie, one of the vendors, told me that the surrounding area had only received jolts from the earthquake and not devastation. I knew that none of Haiti is prosperous.

As difficult as it was to be in Haiti and not be able to really help, I realized that ships were providing support to some families with the craft market. Also, fees paid to the government for every ship, gave money to the ailing government. Hopefully, that money is used to benefit the people.

At lunch, I noticed Haitians working in the food pavilions. Normally, only the ship’s crew attended to the passengers. That was another way Haitian residents were supported by the cruise line.

Holding a large tub, an elderly Haitian shuffled from table to table picking up trash and garbage. His tall, bent frame moved in slow but determined motion. I wanted to take the bin and do it for him but sensed a proud man in the worn out body. Several people gathered their trash to help him. In the middle of the picnic din, he worked silently and only occasionally show a half set of teeth. As difficult as the job was for him, he worked diligently.

As I noticed uneaten plates of food, I thought of people over the mountains who would feast on the discarded remnants. How many people could be nourished on what we threw away? Was the old man thinking the same thing? I hurt for the starving and sick.

Fees paid for the zip lines, scuba diving, and jet skis provided entertainment for only minutes or hours. The same amount of money could provide food for days, weeks, or even months for those over the mountains.

Sparkling beaches, turquoise waters, lush mountains formed a barrier against the reality of extreme poverty. Passengers enjoyed the day in the tropical paradise. Did anyone else feel as sad and disheartened as I did?

Officially, I can add Haiti to my list of countries visited. However, I didn’t really experience the true Haiti with all of its suffering, destruction, and plundering.

All passengers didn’t share my thoughts. On the ship’s elevator, one man said, “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

Alan quickly told him about the Haiti he saw on a mission. We tried to spread the word that our stop was not the real story of Haiti.

At first, the world provided compassion and assistance for the desperate country. But time dims faraway disasters. Immediate, personal problems overtake distant ones. Live goes on. Heartache continues.