MRE’s – part 2

MRE has another meaning in Haiti, stemming from the tumultuous period of political upheaval in the 1990’s. I know that I’m not an expert in Haitian history, especially not in this incredibly complex and still hotly debated period, but here’s my basic understanding based on lots of reading and conversations with people who lived through it. In those years, the divide in the country was quite clearly along economic lines – the people vs. the military and the so called MRE’s – “morally repugnant elite.” Surely throughout Haiti’s history those with wealth have in general done little to demonstrate any real care for the suffering of the masses. They ran their businesses, which provided jobs for some, but graft and corruption in the business community seem to have been as ubiquitous as in the military and the parade of failed Haitian governments of the same period. No one trusted anyone. People with wealth and power used their influence to brutally repress the democratic movements of Aristide, and as the years went on, Aristide’s gangs responded with gruesome violence. A favorite tactic of the day was “necklacing,” in which an MRE or other undesirable would have a tire placed around his neck, be doused with gasoline and lit on fire.

One thing that’s been particularly unique, I think, about my experience in Haiti is that I have had the opportunity to get to know people from so many different parts of Haitian society. Obviously most of the children that we serve in the school come from the poorer neighborhoods and slums, and since most of the staff are graduates of the school, so do they. But many graduates have managed to move up quite a bit in society. Many have laptops and a few have cars, and some can talk about traveling to the DR or even to the United States for vacations. But another of the most important groups in the LCS community is formed by some of the wealthiest people in this country. The project has worked hard in the last few years especially to engage the Haitian business community in supporting LCS, but also in supporting charitable endeavors all over the country. The notion of social entrepreneurship is new here, and many small grocery stores and even the giant cell phone company Voila are getting on board. One of he local store owners donated many essential grocery items to the school each month. Sadly, that man and many of his family members were killed when their store collapsed on them. Voila has made sizeable contributions to the school’s “office of external affairs” which supports graduates in finding university scholarships and job opportunities. Four days after the earthquake, Voila handed us 10 new cell phones with lots of minutes on them. Maybe the “haves” in this country are starting to get it finally, that their fate is inextricably linked with that of everyone else. Many have great hope that the shared experience of the earthquake will further that sense of solidarity.

One of my absolute favorite people in Haiti is a man named Patrick Brun. Truly, each day this guy is inching higher and higher on the list of the people that I admire and respect most in the world. Patrick was born into privilege in this country of so much poverty. His father’s business was in construction and hardware sales, and as a child he enjoyed an education at the fancy Catholic school, vacations in Europe and a life of relative comfort. In the 90’s he came in contact with Louverture Cleary School and the infinitely persuasive Patrick Moynihan. First he started selling building materials at cost, then consulting on construction projects. Before long he had drunk the proverbial LCS Kool Aid and had what he describes ad a true conversion. Now he’s up to his eyeballs in this place, and the chair of the Board (one of only 2 Haitians on the board.) On a personal level, Patrick Brun and his family have been a great gift to me and the rest of the US volunteers. They’ve had us over to their lovely home in Petonville and fed us chips and salsa and chocolate cupcakes. We’ve spent a few wonderful days of R and R at their small home in the mountains, where there are no mosquitoes, no tap taps, no TV’s, and no noise except for the mooing of cows. Patrick’s visits to the school are frequent, and he always takes the time to talk and to listen.

On the night of the earthquake, when we were missing our two senior most leaders, all I wanted all night was for Patrick Brun to walk through the door of that soccer field because I knew that his presence would calm people down, and that he’d help us to make good decisions. Sure enough, at about 8 pm, there he was, and it was like the weight of the world lifted off my shoulders. He brought us the first real news of what was going on outside. He had been downtown when the earthquake hit, and before returning home, he knew he had to come check on us at the school. Along the way, he picked up strangers along the road who needed to get to hospitals. We stood and talked for about 20 minutes about what to do with the diesel drums and whether or not it was safe to go into the dorms to get the kids blankets and mattresses to sleep on, and what should be our top priorities in the morning, and what were the signs of shock that we needed to be looking for in kids. Then he said goodbye – since there were people sitting in his car on the driveway who needed to get to hospitals – but he promised to come back the next day.

Since then, Patrick Brun has basically abandoned his family business and left it to his brothers. His work has become logistical support for the International Red Cross and Catholic Relief Services. He and a team of LCS students, staff and volunteers cleaned out one of his warehouses to be used for Red Cross building materials and medical supplies. He’s been on site each day this past week while another team of LCS affiliated people has worked to excavate the Cathedral and the Archbishop’s residence. The Church of Port au Prince is destroyed – church buildings are piles of rubble, hundreds of priests and seminarians (as well as the Archbishop and his staff) are dead, and all of the cultural and personal history that the Church preserves is buried under tons and tons of concrete. Since there’s no one left to organize the excavation and recovery of baptismal records and marriage licenses and cultural artifacts from the Cathedral and archdiocesan buildings, Patrick Moynihan and Patrick Brun are simply doing it themselves.

On Tuesday night I had dinner with a group of American surgeons and nurses who are staying at the residence of the Papal Nuncio while they serve in one of the city’s few functioning hospitals. The house is lovely, situated on the side of a hill overlooking the city. It was surreal to be in such a beautiful place, looking down on the city below without really being able to see much of the destruction, but knowing it was there (having just spent 2 and a half hours in gridlocked traffic to get up the hill.) Patrick Brun came over to me and I asked him how he was doing and for the first time since I’ve known him, he looked a little beat up, and admitted to me that he was really tired. Then he explained that he had read a Miami Herald article about how the wealthy of Haiti – the so called MRE’s – were basically unaffected by the earthquake. The article went on to explain that most had left the country and were doing little to assist in the recovery efforts. I looked at this man who had spent the last three weeks doing nothing but assist in the recovery efforts and said, “I’m really sorry Patrick. That must make you kind of furious.” He launched off on a little tirade about journalists being too lazy to leave their desks and find out the real story, and the danger of falling back on that old, divisive narrative at a time like this. After listing some of the other things people like himself were doing to help the country, he said, “this thing shows us that everyone in this country can die together, so we have to be able to live together. History started over on January 12, 2010.”

Someone suggested that he write a response to the article in the Miami Herald. For a moment he seemed to consider it, but then backed off. He explained that he could, but that it would be taken the wrong way by some and would just rekindle those old feelings of animosity, and this country can’t handle that at a time like this. So, Patrick Brun won’t defend himself, out of respect for the needs of his country. But I couldn’t let this one go. I wish American journalists would stop writing about heroic relief workers and start writing about heroic Haitian people like Patrick Brun.