Monday, August 2, 2010

Moving on...

What does it actually mean to move on?
What steps are we to take to move forward?
Is it a state of mind? Is it outwardly visible to those who take part of ours surroundings?

I was in Haiti this spring break and through out that time I felt unraveled in contradictions.

The streets were busy with merchants, selling fresh water and cola or fruits and vegetables. The taptaps were filled to the brim, transporting dozens of people from one location to another. Everything and was moving along…

Upon entrance into the country my chauffeur Sergo, came to get me and his warm smile enthusiasm, kind words of how much he had been looking forward to seeing me reminded me of why and how dearly I love my country, and the people of my country .

We quickly got into conversation, I was curious about how he had been doing and he was eager to share. Sergo recounted how January 12th had transformed his life, what he had lived, how what he had saw torments him everyday. His life, had been that of a movie witnessing thousands of people lives flash before his eyes. (An unimaginable reality to grasp)
He told me how shortly after witnessing a 5 story apartment crumble into rubble right before his very eyes, one of his neighbors came along and exclaimed that My grandfather house is underground, Sergo’s home had collapsed the earthquake had brought it down and my grandmother was still inside.

I’m not sure about me, but how do you think you might respond in this situation?

Sergo told me, it took him what seemed hours but actually minutes to take in that his home had also been brought to its knees and the remarkable lady, my grandma whom had accepted him with open arms was also buried under the rubble.
This was unacceptable! And he immediately ran to back his house and tried to see what
He could do. And quickly noticed that she, My grandma was alive! He told me in the midst of such immense sorrow, hearing her whisper: Help me.. Was the most comforting thing he had ever heard…
And what I loved about this story is that Sergo never gave up until the job was complete. After 2 long days of isolating where she was and after hammering away for 5+ hours eventually pulling her out from her neck because he was the only one who could fit in the hole without causing more damage to my grandmother. Sergo rescued my grandmother. He is a hero.

The funny thing about this story, is that this was one of the dozens of remarkably heroic stories I heard while home last week. And I am proud to say I am from a country of heroes. Heroes with no awards, no acclamation This is the story of thousands of people living in uncertainty, turmoil and distress.

What does it actually mean to move on for the people of Haiti?
Maybe it small efforts like these, where we gather together to celebrate a people, embrace their stories, embrace our essence. Maybe it’s people like you?