On the same day that the devastating earthquake struck Haiti, a team of World Vision volunteers had just arrived in the capital of Port-au-Prince. Heidi Billington and Bernie Zebarth, both from New Brunswick, Canada are members of that team and were able to send these personal reflections in the terrifying first 24 hours.
Heidi Billington
Fredericton, NB
I was struggling to get online connection and was in the process of rebooting when I heard a horrible rumble. Within seconds the earth began to shake, lamps and mirrors broke and crashed to the floor. Fear welled up quickly and I began calling on God with every fibre of my being...
I couldn't differentiate between the trembling in the earth and the trembling in my body as I braced myself between the door frame. I opened my room door and the garden outside was full of people raising their hands to God and praying ‘Mon Seigneur! Mon Seigneur!’
To my relief, everyone on our team was safe and soon gathered in the parking lot. We managed to get one phone call out to World Vision Canada to contact our family members and tell them we were ok. The cries from downtown were so horrible. And we realized that dusk was upon us and soon it would be dark... It became apparent that no help would come tonight.
Within a short period of time, people started coming up the hill. They had heard doctors were at the hotel. They brought their broken and wounded, desperate for help. One mother sat with her baby son, both of his legs broken, a gaping head wound—his wails tore at my heart...
And they continued to come, headlamps from the vehicles lit the area enough for the doctors to wash and bandage them. Hotel sheets became ripped bandages, headboards became splints to set broken legs, towels soaked up blood, candles were lit to cauterize wounds and the wails from the city rose up.
I attempted to help in anyway I could but quickly realized there was little I was capable of doing, there was little anyone could do. Exhausted I lay down, with many others, on the cement of the parking lot, hoping for some sleep as the night wore on. The cries from the city below would ebb and flow. I honestly wasn't sure which was more eerie the wailing or the silence...
With the daylight came the realization of what had happened the night before. The front doorway to the hotel had become a laying ground for the dead...
So here I sit, with a stone wall between me and the disaster. I sit, under the shade of an almond tree listening to the cries of the wounded and dying, watching the helicopters swarm above us, heartbroken.
I think back to the sense of excitement and anticipation as we arrived in Haiti for the first time. What a vibrant, colourful city. What an experience we were prepared to have.
It all changed in seconds. The room first trembled and then shook, accompanied by a roaring sound. The wall-mirror fell to the floor and shattered glass flew everywhere. The TV fell to the floor. Outside, people cried out. Some in fear and alarm, some praising God. The chaos began.
People moved to the sidewalk and street in front of the hotel, milling around in disarray, feeling a series of aftershocks. In a state of shock, we chatted, sometimes joked, glad to have survived, aware of what could have happened to us. The place where an hour ago we had supper, was now a pile of rubble as the roof collapsed—so close a call.
Night came soon and quickly. From our bubble of safety (on the hotel grounds), we heard the cries from the city in the distance, renewed with each major aftershock. Then the wounded began to arrive—a few at first, more and more as the night progressed.
Dawn came, and with it the chance to see the world around us. From the rooftop of the hotel we saw the devastation of the buildings on the surrounding hillsides, and we began to realize the magnitude of what had occurred.
We saw many more injured people arrive in the morning, hearing rumours of medical care. An impromptu medical clinic materialized at the front of the hotel, but with no medical supplies. I looked on, painfully aware that any skill I possessed was entirely useless in this situation?what a sense of helplessness...
As information filtered in, we heard the airport was closed, that the core of the city was demolished, and that the death toll was staggering...
Within 24 hours (it seemed like days), we were in contact with World Vision staff. Even though we did not get much more information, just seeing a local contact felt like grabbing a lifeline. Now we continue to wait, but with a greater sense of security.
To support World Vision's work, people are asked to lend a hand by calling 0800 80 2000, making a donation to the 'World Vision Haiti Emergency' at any Westpac branch, or pledging $30 through their Telecom account by phoning 0900 4 HOPE. Alternatively contributions can be made online at www.worldvision.org.nz.
