Earthquake hits home for Haitian Americans

On Wednesday, January 12, I found out that a catastrophic earthquake had struck the island of Haiti. I read that the country's capitol was in ruins, and the death toll was expected to fly past record highs. The only thing that was really different about my reaction, compared to that of the average American, is that I am Haitian. My Dad was in Port au Prince during the earthquake, and several members of my family lived throughout other parts of the country. I cannot say that my initial reaction was panic, but it definitely contained a certain degree of concern. I tried to contact my father with no luck. Cell phone lines in Haiti were down, and I was not able to get through to anyone. So, I had to go about my day trying to pretend that I wasn't completely absorbed by the uncertain fate of my father. That is when things started to get interesting. I started noticing the peculiar way in which people discussed or reported on the earthquake. I do not really see any need in making it known to the people around me that I am Haitian, so many people in my day-to-day life are completely unaware. This gave me an opportunity to experience a relatively unbiased version of people's reactions to the disaster. I don't mean to make it sound like anyone spoke badly, negatively, or even indifferently concerning the earthquake; because that is far from the case. In general, the conversations I experienced were very sympathetic to the people of Haiti. What interested me was the tone, rhetoric, and diction being used. It almost seemed like, when talking about Haiti, people were discussing aliens, or some group of people very different from them. Conversations like these led me to draw the conclusion that, in general, the people around me were unaware of the density of the Haitian population in America. It was interesting to me that virtually none of the people I heard speaking about the topic considered that the black guy in direct proximity of them, me, was Haitian. None of them considered that even though Haiti is a severely impoverished nation that we rarely hear anything about, there are Haitian Americans all around us. I was also struck from people's reactions when they did find out that I am Haitian. They were shocked. I've never seen anyone proclaim their nationality and have another person exclaim, "What!?" I wasn't offended by it in any way. I completely understand. I can't tell other Haitians from the everyday African American, either. I just never thought being Haitian was surprising. I don't want to leave you hanging, so I will finish telling about what happened with my father. He got through the earthquake unhurt and is currently staying in St. Marc, Haiti until air traffic and commotion dies down. Thursday afternoon he called me and told me that I was the only one he was able to contact, and that he needed me to help him find the rest of his family. I spent the rest of that morning on my cell phone speaking with members of my family I had never met. Once everyone was accounted for, my father was able to tell me more about what he was experiencing. We had our phone conversation while he was walking down a street in Port au Prince. My father is from Brooklyn, New York. He has a low, reverberating voice that would intimidate a lion. When he spoke to me, in his trembling and shaky voice, it was the first time I heard my father speak with fear. He told me that he had never been more scared in his life. He described how less than 10 feet from him bodies were being pulled out of rubble and being stacked in piles taller than him. My dad is over 6 feet tall. Our conversation was short, and I've had very little contact with him since. If anything, I guess I'm writing this column to inform. When you're thinking about the situation in Haiti, do not think of it as some off-shore disaster. Remember that the lives that have been destroyed in Haiti are of the same flesh and blood as millions of Americans that coexist with you every day.