Erik of Cap-Haitien

When I met with Sarah Yachison at SOMA cafe on campus, I was struck by the way she characterized the differences between Haiti and Canada. She described in particular the complete difference in expectation, reliability and accountability.

“People live day by day, outside of due dates and obligations,” she said. “On the one hand it’s refreshing to be in a place where people aren’t consumed by where they’re going to be or what they’re going to accomplish in the future…but at the same time it’s difficult to see people without opportunity or hope.”

It would be both refreshing and difficult for a girl that manages so much, from school and work and humanitarian activity, to be in a place devoid of obligation. It is further difficult, for many of us, to imagine a place without the foundational services that we have come to rely on.

“[There is] no public service, welfare, health care, even electricity [is periodic], access to clean water [is limited], all while unemployment sits at 80%...even those that are educated and able bodied couldn’t find work for themselves and their families,” Yachison said.

To illustrate the way the instability in Haiti affects everyday people, their hopes, and their aspirations, Yachison told me about Erik, a 14-year-old boy in Cap Haitien. At first, while sitting at SOMA, she gave me small details. It evolved into a longer story through email. I was regrettably unable to include it in my piece for Issue 9.

Here’s Erik’s story:

“Erik was interested in learning english and lived nearby the house that we were staying at (which also served to be a classroom for the english class during the afternoons).
He was a quiet but delightful boy and would attend class with an enthusiasm and eagerness to learn. However, one day the instructors (two Canadians who came on the trip as well) noticed that he was upset. Erik broke down when they approached him. He stated in very broken English that his parents had both died and he was trying to take care of himself and his sister. His older siblings did not want to have anything to do with him. We would have never guessed what his situation was… Also, he did not appear to be in such a distressing predicament with his slightly stained white dress shirt, oversized slacks, and brown dress shoes.
Until we looked more closely and found out that that was one of the only outfits he owned (worn for special occasions such as church and school). Also, his shoes, although appearing shiny and relatively new, were missing most of the soles. He finally revealed all of this to the instructor that day. He said English was a solution, a way to hopefully one day get a job and make enough money to support himself and his sister. He continued to wait everyday outside of our house to see us and in anticipation to attend class. Despite his participation in our program he found school very difficult to attend, which was probably because he was too hungry to think. On our last day, it was very difficult to leave Erik, as he seemed extremely troubled and distressed. However, I hold onto the belief that our presence may have sparked some hope in him to keep going, in the face of such adversity and destitution.”

To support Sarah and the Cap Haitien orphanage she is attempting to finance, visit her by the 3rd floor U of W escalators on the first and last Monday of November.

That’s Erik, holding up a soccer jersey, brought by a Canadian aid worker. Soccer is the most popular sport in Haiti, according to Yachison, because all it really requires is a ball.