Humanity used to be just another overused word; like love or awesome. But when I traveled to Port-au-Prince one year ago with the Good Samaritain Rebuilding Fund (GSRF), the word finally become real.
Because of 7.0 magnitude earthquake that lasted only 35 seconds, Haiti’s landscape turned to mountains of broken concrete. Its skyline, now blue tarps and white tents. Its population, 11.5 percent less than it was the day before.
On our bus ride from the Dominican Republic into Haiti, we found things to laugh about. We nibbled on the snacks we packed into our luggage. We napped. We complained about the bus being too cold.
As we entered Port-au-Prince, though, sorrow slithered its way onto our seats. Finally we were still, stunned at what we saw. Rows and rows of ravaged buildings. Lives fell with those buildings. Families tumbled, friendships collapsed, joys plummeted. Our fellow humans, our brothers and sisters, were hurting.
People stared at us with hopeful eyes. Their clothes were dirty and torn, like they had been wearing them for days. Children, probably orphans, held out their hands for us, begging for money or food.
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