The Hardest Things

Everywhere we went we encountered things that made my heart sink. But some things stuck with me, running through my mind for days afterward.

The youngest victims I saw were toddlers – brothers who had been saved from the rubble of their home. The oldest one’s hand had been irreparably crushed, and had to be removed. His empty wrist was wrapped in gauze. At two years old, he was already an amputee.

While everyone knows about the physical damage the earthquake brought, we weren’t expecting the damaged relationships. But the rush to deliver victims to emergency care resulted in many family members being separated from each other. We talked to several people who told us they had no idea where their family members were or even if they were alive. The collapsed infrastructure means that phone services and other forms of communication aren’t readily accessible. And with bodies buried unidentified in mass graves, it might be years before people know for sure what has happened to their loved ones. In the meantime, they deal with not knowing – and with incredible loneliness.

Another hard thing to deal with was the tension we felt as journalists covering a disaster. We were writing these stories to inspire people to help, and had even delivered a load of supplies upon entering the city. But we had nothing else to offer. Still, people kept assuming that because we were white, we had something to give them. “Give me a tent,” “Give me food,” and “Give me a job.” But all I had on me was my notepad, and the knowledge that help was coming soon.

I met a girl my age – her name was Jully. Though she didn’t speak English and I didn’t speak Creole, we tried to talk for a while. Mostly, she tried to convince me to give her a tent, and I was tried to convince her I didn’t have one to give. At one point, she assured me that she was “awesome” and motioned toward my belt with her eyes. I pretended I hadn't understood her, but I had. She was offering a sexual favor in exchange for some shelter. My heart broke a little in that moment.