The Third Wave_ A Volunteer Story - Alison Thompson [82]
Inside the compound, the expressions on our faces must have resembled those of Macaulay Culkin in Home Alone after he realizes that his parents have forgotten him. I shook the diamond-like pieces of glass from my clothes and hair and they fell to the floor with the weight of years of distress. The situation had turned dangerous in just a few seconds, and I had felt more vulnerable than I can ever remember feeling. When I walked into the restroom, I saw a girl with nine lives looking out at me from the mirror. I was confused and my ego was hurt, but I should have known better: These sorts of incidents are par for the course in disaster areas, especially after the initial shock of the trauma has worn off. People get angry. Later that night, I learned that the protestors were Haitian students who were upset at their government for its lack of support after the earthquake. I turned on my cell and twittered these words: “For every small crime committed here there are thousands of really great projects going on in Haiti with really good people helping,” and in that moment I unconditionally loved the boy who had nearly killed me.
Relocating 5,000 people from our village out of the flood danger zone was exhausting work, with no breaks for weeks, and my toes were perpetually numb. The new land we found for the displaced people was raw, but it flourished daily. A school and market popped up, and soon the village will grow into a city with new homes and the possibility of new beginnings. What I witnessed in Haiti was amazing. Sean had somehow managed to get all the NGOs in our village to work together. I saw how much stronger we all were when we pooled our resources and contacts for the greater good of serving the Haitian people. In all my years of aid work, I had never seen a collaboration like that happen. We sweated and laughed together, and would collapse at the end of an honest day’s work.
On a more romantic note, I fell in love with one of the volunteers. He walked into my life looking like a full-bearded explorer and we spent long hours saving Haiti together. He reawakened me to romantic love as we kissed for the first time way past midnight on the helicopter landing overlooking the tent village. It was the first time we’d had a moment alone together since we’d met. Only after we pulled away from each other did we realize that some of the 82nd Airborne paratroopers were positioned forty feet away watching the whole thing with night vision goggles.
Please don’t forget Haiti. Just because the earthquake is no longer making headlines, that doesn’t mean that the problems have been solved. There’s still so much work to be done. We need your help. Time is the most important donation: Come to volunteer, and spread the word through your social networks. Help us to alleviate the suffering. Haiti can be born anew, and we can also learn from the spirituality of the Haitian people. I don’t have a lot of impressive skills; I just know how to do a lot of little things that add up. One thing I do know how to do is love. Somewhere out there, a child is waiting for a delivery of your love. Come join us.
EPILOGUE
I have experienced great changes since that tragic day when I Rollerbladed through the streets of New York down to Ground Zero wondering if I could help. Every day on the volunteer journey, I have learned the freeing secrets of life. My parents instilled this knowledge in me throughout my childhood by taking me on their volunteer adventures, but it awakened in me as an adult only over these past ten years when I started doing missions on my own. In between, I indulged in many selfish years of me, me, me. Volunteering taught me that life is most enjoyable and satisfying when it is about everyone else. Through volunteering, I finally grew up.