Haiti H2O

I had a chance to speak to a predominantly African American church today about Haiti. This church rests in a poverty-stricken area of Pittsburgh and they contacted me regarding the earthquake in Haiti.

Our organization, Haiti H20, is sending down funds to our Haitian partners who are on the front lines of the increasing need in Haiti. They are in positions of leadership within their communities and able to direct food and water to families and individuals who are being impacted by the earthquake. This church has $1,000 left over from last year’s budget, and even though they need a new roof and face the ongoing needs and challenges of their community, they want to reach out and support the people of Haiti.

In the shadow of millions being raised by national organizations, this may not seem like much. Often, it is our perception of what we don’t have that informs our understanding of wealth. I have heard experts say that for 20 billion dollars, we would be able to provide impoverished people around the world with nutrition, clean water and basic healthcare. Ironically, this is the amount Americans spend on ice-cream per year.

If 92% of the world does not have a car, then if we have a car, we are perceived at least by them as being rich. It doesn’t matter what the condition of the car or the make; if a car sits in front of my house, I am one of the lucky 8% who owns one.

Do I have clean water? RICH! Approximately 800 million people went without food yesterday,and around 300 million of them were children. Do I have food in my home? RICH! If we have WIC to assist with food, RICH! If we have food stamps, RICH! If we have insurance for our homes, RICH! If we have access to health care, RICH! If we have free education for our children…and the list goes on and on.

Here in this church is a community scarred by the loss of several of its own youth, shot dead in gang violence. I experience a community who, by the standards of others, would be considered an impoverished and ghettoed area of Pittsburgh. And yet I discover a community rich in spirit, generosity and love, a congregation bound together by their story who yearn to share what little they have with those who have even less.

I am very grateful for the Hollywood stars and their efforts to organize telethons for Haiti. But after experiencing the generosity of this tattered and torn Pittsburgh community who gave from out of their poverty, I emerge hopeful and encouraged with a new resolve for responding to Haiti.

I am reminded of the aerial bombing videos sent during the Gulf War that we watched as a family in our “living room.” The blurred buildings viewed in infrared, outlined with a set of cross hairs set along its shape. Then BOOM! A cloud of dust, lives lost, and a new target on the screen.

What I didn’t see were the children and women impacted. I didn’t see the families in pain and chaos from the devastation of lost relationships and hopes. There was a disconnect, an interruption of the backstory to what I was watching on my television screen.

What brought this to mind was my recent scanning of the Internet for new videos and coverage of the earthquakes in Haiti. I see the masses wandering and looking for help. I can even view the stories of the lives impacted. I don’t just see the ruin of buildings; I can hear and view the stories of brokenness of the Haitians on my 17-inch Mac.

But the disconnect is back. Beer, pick-up trucks, cheerleaders, stuffed burritos, Whoppers, Viagra, 4th down, what was Farv thinking! mmmm dollar menu and McD’s, more tough trucks (that they could really use to haul all that rubble in Port-au-Prince)…and “Oh, there it is!”

Text 10 bucks to Haiti. Text American Red Cross. Mission accomplished. Now back to the game.

How to keep this on the front-burner after all the lights shut down and CNN takes leave will be a challenge for many who are interested in relief to Haiti right now. It seems that the best I can do is not to “add” Haiti to the disconnected universe I live in, but rather to cut out the peripheral fluff that secretly whispers sweet nothings into my ear.