"Can we remain indifferent before the problems associated with such realities as climate change..? Can we disregard the growing phenomenon of "environmental refugees," people who are forced by degradation of their natural habitat to forsake it - and often their possessions as well - in order to face dangers and uncertainties of forced displacement?...All these are issues with a profound impact on the exercise of human rights, such as the right to life, food, health and development."
- Pope Benedict XVI -
All around
the world changes in weather are occurring. The number of hurricanes, droughts,
and tsunamis increases every year. It is no doubt that these are intense natural
travesties in the world, but what we have seen in the rainy season of Mount
Sinai is not something that makes international news, yet it shows so clearly
how environmental changes hit the impoverished, vulnerable people of the world the
hardest.
The month
of March held a lot of things as we, como
siempre, kept busy as a house. Our office at Hogar de Cristo took women to
an International Women´s Day celebration on the malecón (boardwalk) downtown. Women spoke, an Hogar volunteer´s
photography was on display, and tents of women´s and human rights organizations
lined the plaza. I played the mandolin in the back of a pickup truck for a Palm
Sunday procession that was being led by an actual burro. I turned 23. The Youth Group did a Live Stations of the
Cross procession for Good Friday (which unfortunately I was too sick to go to).
And I even decorated and hid Easter eggs for the University of Detroit High
school boys who are currently here. They had to find their lunch.
But, even with all of that, the most prominent occurrence is the rain here in Mount Sinai. We were told from last year´s volunteers that during the winter, it rains quite a bit. I guess I underestimated just how much. On March 2nd we got more rain than I ever could have imagined, and every street filled up at least to one’s shin. In our sector, there is only one cement street and the rest are uneven dirt roads. It makes for almost no drainage and the water that builds up is a combination of water, dirt, garbage, snakes, fish, and human waste.
That night,
the rain began at 5PM at by 9PM it began to fill inside the foundation´s walls,
was to our knees outside the gate, up to the waist at the corner of our block,
and chest-deep behind our house. We were surrounded by true rivers as we
watched neighbors link arms, walking against the current to find higher
shelter. Pieces of cane housing floated in front of our gate and our neighbors
scurried to try to prevent or slow the flooding into their houses. Behind our
house is a canal/trench that floods worse than any part of Mount Sinai, making
it impossible for those living on the canal to stay put through the night.
The rain
didn’t stop until the next morning, when people began to deal with the
aftermath. Mattresses were ruined, washers and refrigerators broken, cane house
walls destroyed. With the dirt roads, mud becomes an intense issue even after
the water drains. After the storm many
tanqueros (water trucks) wouldn’t even go down certain streets due to their
conditions so families can go days without access to water.
But the
aftermath isn’t just a couple-day-thing. Mount Sinai’s land is extremely flat,
which leads to a lack of run-off. Knee deep water can remain in some streets for
more than a week, depending on the heat and whether it continues to rain. Some
families live with water inside their houses until it evaporates. With so much still
water and humid air, viruses and sickness are transmitted far more easily and
the bugs (especially mosquitoes carrying dengue) are far more common. What’s
more, working on your house can be an extremely dangerous task, and
electrocutions are sadly common. Unfortunately, the son of a parish member was
electrocuted and passed away the week of the storm. All of this because of a
few hours of rain that Saturday night.
And then it
happened again a week later.
This is the reality of the people in this sector. Sometimes there is warning, perhaps a prediction on the news, but more often than not the rain simply comes. When it begins, you never know if it will continue all night or stop after a few minutes. From January to April the people live in insecurity and apprehension, never knowing if their reinforcements or pile of dirt outside their house will be sufficient. Insecurity: it’s what comes with living in Mount Sinai.
Our
neighbors, because of the hand they’ve been dealt and where they live on this
earth, are discriminated against every day. Whether it is from the banks or
government programming, the people are categorized as “Has no legal address”
and living with few basic services leads to, in many ways, a denial of human
rights. But weather also discriminates. It is not those in cement houses
downtown that feel the hit of a three-hour storm. The intense heat does not
hurt the families who can retreat to air conditioning and filtered water. Weather
does not calm down based on who is ready or not. I for one have never been truly affected by weather, and I’m not
sure I ever will be. The families who cannot afford to raise their cane houses
or replace their dirt floor or afford extra water on the hot days—they are the
ones who feel the impact of a change in climate and it is all because of where
and how they live.
Yet I have
seen what it means to get back on your feet because life goes on. A family lost
most of their mattresses and half of their wardrobe, so they cleaned the house
the next day and started salvaging what they could. A pharmacy was filled with
water so she broke into her savings and raised the floor knowing she would have
to work even harder the following months. Some visit a place like this and are
amazed by the “constant happiness of the people.” Yes, you can see those
smiles; I have laughed every day since arriving. But I know that the happiness
is not 24/7, and I know that they hurt. I’ve seen them cry and I’ve seen
distress. What is truly inspiring is
a kind of strength and determination, something I know I do not have. A certain
motivation that is learned: motivation that allows one to come back to their
house and work on it after swimming away the night before. The strength of
mothers who work to protect their children and the determination of families to
make it to the end of the winter season.
The two big
floods were hard knowing not only we were completely safe but that we couldn’t
do anything at the time. Being a part of a foundation based in a ministry of presence is, at times, so difficult when
all you want is to do. To see
material need and not be able to give takes patience and, in my opinion, trust.
Trust that words can move and that listening can heal. In my time here I’ve
visited, sat, laughed, sang, sometimes talked but mostly listened, and I’ve
learned far more than anything I’ve given. Lately I’ve been taking a class on
strength and it’s an amazing thing to sit through.
Please keep
the neighbors of Mount Sinai in your thoughts and prayers this winter season.
