Still Processing...

    

Children are the heartbeat of a nation; its pulse,

essential to its present, vital to its future….  

The catalytic process to the circle of life… 

“Process”, a word that has come to mean more than I could ever imagine....

I spent Thanksgiving weekend in Haiti this year, 

and while it has been more than a week since I’ve been back,

I’m still processing the experience … 

It had been almost 9 months from my last visit, 

most of the debris had been cleared off the roads, 

it seemed as if the country had returned to some type of “normalcy,”…

another word with different meanings in the mind of it’s beholder.

This trip was different for me. With the country at the brink of possible turmoil due to the elections and the spread of cholera, 
I still felt like I needed to go.  

I was ready in whatever capacity to get my hands and feet wet in helping…

but as my hands and feet were engaged in medical activities, 
my mind was processing…

Time seems to stand still when I’m in Haiti,  
maybe that’s why it takes some time to process all these images 
that won't leave my mind...

Still processing the thought of a dehydrated toddler whose mother watches helplessly as her son fades in her hands 
because she cannot afford $3 US dollars to buy IV fluids…

A haunting image of a young mother sitting by her baby’s crib,
his lifeless body covered with the yellow blanket that she used to carry him to the hospital with, weeping over him. 
The scene in the pediatric unit at the General Hospital (Hopital Universite de l’Etat de Haiti) is quite daunting. 

At the Pediatric/Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at Hopital Adventiste d’Haiti, 
a premature newborn struggles to live (poor thing was in a great rush to come into this world). 

While there is this deep sense of satisfaction over the fact that she is doing well, there is this overshadowing looming thought...

what kind of world is this little one fighting to live in…

She will leave the hospital to go live with her parents under a tent, 
with no running water, covered with dust, plagued with all sorts of bacteria. 

She’s just not matured enough.  

What child could ever be? 

As she grows up, where will she take her first steps?

There’s a thin path between the tent and the street. 
This is no place for a child.  

A disheartening thought to process. 

I can’t help but think about the tents that are placed right in the middle of the streets, still there since my last trip. 

How much can one’s lungs survive the exhaust from the cars passing by? 

How much noise can one endure 
from the car horns and constant chatter of passersby? 

Their dwelling place has no windows; 
some are creative to place a door in front of the tarp or a curtain, 
giving it some resemblance to a home.
Hence, a depiction of the resiliency of the Haitian people, 
by all means, a tent will become “home”. 

"Mwen rezi yem" (I take it as it is), an often quoted slogan, 
seems to be a recurring theme that runs throughout the country.   

Upon returning to the U.S., I couldn’t help but think how a 4 hour plane ride could transport me from one world to another….

The cold brisk wind hits me as I exit the airport,

no longer the distinctive smell of charcoal 
that permeates over Port-au-Prince.  

I have returned back to my own “normalcy”… 
but I could never really return back to normal

My mind won’t let me, 

it's still processing….

Creatively His, 

Guerline Mercredi, NP 


Guerline, Pulse Volunteer, is a Pediatric Nurse Practitioner of Haitian descent, living and working in New York City within an Intensive care capacity. She recently returned from her second trip to Haiti since the earthquake.