tranbleman de te

January 12, 2010.  Almost 5 pm, just before sunset, the ground began to shake.  It wasn't a big water truck going by, a large sound people often hear in Port-au-Prince.  It wasn't a tropical storm.  It was an earthquake, a "tranbleman de te."

On that night, chaos, fear, death, and for months afterward, aftershocks.  In a country already on its knees economically, politically, socially, and nearly every other way, it was now, in the words of one pastor here, "being kicked in the teeth."

As doctors flooded the country from around the globe, bodies began to line the sidewalks, stacked outside those clinics and hospitals which were not already flattened in the quake.  Rescue crews, usually working with bare hands, frantically scratched their way through rubble, desperate to rescue those they hoped were still alive inside.  Those not crushed to death by buildings submitted crushed legs and arms to the surgeon's knife and, sometimes saw, creating a population of amputees who five years later are seen hobbling up crooked sidewalks on canes or sitting in the shade with a tin cup to receive from those who have Gourdes (currency) in their pocket and compassion in their hearts.  Those who bear no physical scars have scars none-the-less, deep inside.  One friend suggested, "all Haitians are suffering from PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder)."  Our five months here so far have shown us enough that this is at least believable.

This past Monday, in addition to being a critical day politically as the senate was dissolving and the President is now ruling unchecked, was also the 5th anniversary of the "tranbleman de te."  I was with Clare Streutker and the team from Immanuel Christian Reformed Church in Caledon/Brampton over the weekend on a trip to Jacmel and Leogane, and so I woke up the morning of the 12th in Leogane, the very epicentre of the quake five years earlier.  The contrast was palpable as we awoke in the peace and calm of a large guest house property, enjoyed a grand breakfast of papaya, avocado, eggs, bread and coffee, and packed up our things to head back into Port-au-Prince.

Clare and I were on the road early, wanted to be through downtown Port-au-Prince before any "manifestations" or protests began.  As we drove through the suburbs between Leogane and Port-au-Prince, the largest of which is Carrefour, the streets were unusually quiet.  Even the trip through the bustling downtown of Port-au-Prince, though fairly busy, was virtually void of horn-honking, impatience, or hawking vendors.  It was as if the entire nation was holding its breath for the day.

As alluded to above, Haiti had two reasons to pause Monday.  One was the obvious remembrance of the earthquake.  People who had been burying memories too painful to recall were recalling them anyway.  Churches were beginning services early in the day, songs echoing off ravine neighborhoods in rich and poor sections alike.  Again, as on that day five years ago, all Haitians had something to unite around.  Pain, remembrance, and questions which ultimately would not be answered.

The congregation where our family normally attends worship services, Quisqueya Chapel, held a service at 4pm, wanting to be sure to be in worship at 4:53, the local time that the 7.0 earthquake struck.  There would not be an additional 52 services for the 52 aftershocks of 4.5 or greater that occurred in the two weeks after, so this one service would be our worshipping communities one remembrance.

In a scene reminiscent of 2010 where people were afraid to go indoors, we met out on the soccer field rather than in the chapel, sitting in a large circle of chairs.  There would be no one main speaker or leader; we were there to share -- in story, song, scripture, grief, and hope.

a circle of remembrance

a participant offering a solo of hope sung in Haitian Creole

 Pastor Bobby Boyer made it clear that this was a time of sharing, of grieving, of hoping.  He welcomed any and all to contribute in any way they felt led.  The circle started small, as did the participation, but eventually stories and songs and scripture and prayers cascaded upon one another.  A few brought guitars and song sheets, one brought a recorder or maybe it was a flute.  All brought heavy hearts.  No one brought answers.  Haiti, in addition to the 10,000,000 whose ancestral origin hails from Africa from where they were brought as slaves in the 1700's, is also a country of NGO's.  In addition to the nearly 20,000 foreign troops in Haiti, there are countless Non-Governmental Organizations, mostly faith-based, who do work in nearly every sector -- health, infrastructure, faith, community building, etc.  These NGO workers seem to hail from every corner on the planet.  In the service we heard stories of Haitians and of folks from Britain, Kenya, Canada, and the United States.
At the end of the service, Pastor Bobby pulled pastoral privilege and appointed me to lead in a parting blessing.  I knew he would as the Holy Spirit had been preparing in me something that needed to be said.  While I can't recall my exact words, I spoke first about the great and terrible power of the tranbleman de te and how its power is a devastating destructive power which has impacted us all.  I then spoke about the greater power, of the Holy Spirit, who is continually active throughout Haiti in and through the work of God's people, reminding all there of the words of 1 Corinthians 12 "Now you are the body of Christ, each of you is a part of it" and of 1 Corinthians 6 that each of them are temples of the Holy Spirit, and that as Paul wrote in Philippians 1:6, "He who has began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it until the day of Christ Jesus."

In a place where the economic and social aftershocks of the earthquake continue to reverberate, this posture of faith is a secure place.  It is also the safest place to be as we consider the second reason Haiti had to hold its breath Monday:  politics.

Politically Haiti has nearly always been an unstable place.  A country barely 200 years old (independence was 1804), Haiti has seen more than their fair share of presidential coups and assassinations.  In fact, of the 44 Presidents so far, only 8 have served their full term.  This carries into recent history as 9 Presidents have been overthrown since the end of World War II.

Monday January 12, 2015 was a day of breath-holding politically as that was the day that terms of office of Senators would expire, effectively dissolving the parliament, and leaving President Michel Martelly with the legal right to rule by decree.  In a country where the population has memories of past dictatorial rule, and where corruption is an assumed norm, this is, to put it mildly, not ideal.

And so, the parliament has dissolved, the country has not spiralled into deeper chaos than it is already in, although it could.  Each day, we who are filled with the Spirit are called to pray and work and hope against the grain of despair and disorder that mark daily life here.  We pray that the power of renewal and rebuilding will overwhelm the forces of destruction and that one day, when people of Haiti refer to "the quake" they will be referring to that greater power of God making all things new.