One of my favorite students is named Alain. He is a good kid. He is very poor, by Haitian and certainly developed world standards. But, he is humble still, and has never asked me for anything. This is rare. Most students I know usually ask for something. And, why not? A white American is the closest thing they have to help, to anything extra. There are plenty of NGOs here, but it's difficult even for them to figure out how to help (a whole issue unto itself). It's hard to know where and when the money is showing up. The only reason I knew he needed help is because I began talking to him, and enjoyed his humility.
Alain is 22 years old. He lives with his aunt. His mom passed away when he was 13 years old, and he doesn't know his father. He has no other family. His aunt has her own kids though. Usually when someone like Alain is taken in by family, it's more of an obligatory gesture than a charitable one. Their own children come first before the relative. As such, Alain is the last to receive anything in the house. He gets little food, money, clothes, school supplies, or anything else. Quite often he'll show up weak and fatigued; he is either hungry, thirsty, or understandably mentally distant from the barrage of anxieties he has to deal with every day.
Last week I sat and talked with him for about an hour. He seemed conflicted that day, and needed to vent. There were times in the conversation I thought he was choking up. He is losing his job working at an internet cafe--his only source of money, meager though it is. He is trying to work on his education, but payment and school supplies continually thwart the effort. He is interested in being an emergency response worker and hopes to enroll later in the fall. But, there is no guarantee. Like so many, he wants badly to come to the US. If he could he would join the military. But, for a Haitian to actually be allowed out of Haiti is a daunting task at best. He has a cousin in the US, but she cannot help him move because she has children of her own and couldn't afford to take him in.
As he sat there thinking out loud to me, he began to speak more freely about his situation. He is alone for the most part; a few friends, but no family, hardly a sense of belonging. He wants to go to church but he can't afford the clothes, and would be ashamed to go otherwise. Most Haitians dress nicely for church. He only has a few sets of clothes and can't wash them that often. So, he'll wear the same thing for several days. He says he would do anything for work--aside from "bad things", but can't find it. "I'd sweep the streets if I could get paid, I am not too good for anything," he says with complete humility. And, as he continues on, "How can I have a family like this? How can I live? This so hard for me, I don't know what to do. I wish I could live in good country like the US, I could have started family by now. I will be older soon." Now I am nearly choking up. I couldn't imagine it: a slum, a slim to nil future, no family, no one to help, no job, hardly enough to keep a few sets of clothes, let alone afford things like food and school. And, yet like any human he still desires life. But, how can he have it?
What do I tell him? What words of comfort do I give him? The standard 'keep trying', 'don't give up kid' sayings somehow seem entirely inadequate. When reality seems to be saying 'sorry, you should dig deep Alain, can't say it will get better. In fact, it will likely get worse', or 'sorry, wish there was something someone could do, but there isn't'. I'd like to steal him from here, but I can't. He doesn't deserve this, but its forced on him. He didn't do anything for it, but he's punished. This world isn't fair, in fact its completely the opposite. He drew the shortest straw, like so many others. What can I do? Hand him a couple hundred bucks and hope he uses it wisely? I can't give him a job. I can't give him a home. I can't bring his mom back. I can't find his father. I can't guarantee his future. I'd like to give him everything. Especially when he says he is so happy to talk to me, and will miss me when I'm gone, and he is thankful to have me in his life now. Could I possibly feel any smaller?
I have tried hard to explain to myself why such inequity exists. Why do some have and some have not? Why has the world shaped itself this way? And, why do good people have to suffer so much? I know there is hope, if not in this life than the next. But Alain is still left with the everyday trial of getting and going about his day. He is not alone and there are millions of others (literally) who have to do the same.
These are not new questions. They are asked time and time again. The only explanation that has helped me I gave in my previous post. But, that was end of the road stuff, the Hope. But as Alain sits and tells me his story, what do I tell him? What do I offer him as words of comfort for the now?
