Sasha Kramer's blog

Six months later and sometimes it feels like we will be stuck in January 2010 forever. It as if we are frozen in time, looking out on the hillsides covered with tents.  Every once in a while we will notice a change, like the empty space where the church used to be on Delmas 53.  For years I would stay in the hotel across the street and be awakened by singing from that church. In January, when I returned to the hotel, the church was a mound of cement and twisted iron with a cross that dangled precariously into the street. Now there is just a hole, an empty space that still echoes with the voices of the choir.

Dear friends,
Tomorrow marks 6 months since the devastating earthquake. I wanted to take this evening to reflect on the past 6 months and to share with you some of our activities and challenges. It has been months since my last letter and I apologize for the lack of communication.  Since my last update in March our team has been working 50-60 hours per week on sanitation projects in both Port au Prince and Cap Haitien and it has been hard to find space for reflection and communication. It is late Sunday night and the moon is shining down on the capital, reflecting on the storm washed streets and plastic tarps as the city sleeps, reminding me of how many moons have passed since January 12.  I know that all of you have been holding Haiti in your thoughts and I am so grateful that you have shared this struggle with us through your support from afar.

Dear friends,

Friday February 12, one month after the earthquake, the first day of Jounen jèn, the days of mourning and remembrance, and we walked through the twisted iron and dusty shards of glass of the shattered National Cathedral. As we crossed through the open door and stared down the length of the cathedral it was as though the world had ended and even the wind had disappeared into the silence of the rubble.

Driving through the city with the sun beating down and the smoke and dust blurring my vision, I am soaked in sweat and still the goosebumps rise over my skin.  It is as if the souls of those still buried under the rubble are coursing through my veins, reaching for the sun, yearning to be free. I carry them with me as I ride through this broken city, but I can’t let them out, I am so afraid that they will take me with them to a place where I will no longer be able to serve, my mind is numb but my skin is crawling with loss.

January 22, 2010

January 19, 2010

I am writing to you tonight with a heavy heart. In one night our world changed in Haiti.  When the earthquake struck I was at the SOIL house in Cap Haitien with a group of students from the University of Miami, Florida International University and Notre Dame.  We were incredibly lucky in Cap-Haitien and although the whole city shook, there was no major damage.

Welcome to the snazzy new SOIL web site brought to you courtesy of our most recent addition to the SOIL team, web guru Nadine Mondestin. What you see here is the fruit of six months of gruelling virtual labour - we hope you like it.

Thanks to those of you who have patiently encouraged us to update our online presence, and we won't disappoint you - you can expect to unearth fresh dirt on SOIL on a much more regular basis.

We want to give special thanks to webmaster Danny K. who donated his time and incredible skills over the past three years to maintain our original site.