Ledger

Issue date: 2/2/10 Section: Opinion

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.

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