"Maybe when I'm seventy I can rest and have some quiet"- Rea Dol explaining that it is her calling to help people.

Stepping out of terminal three in Fort Lauderdale waiting for a shuttle to take us to our connecting flight back to Canada, I couldn't help noticing the calm and order of busses, limos and cabs whisking well to do designer travelers out across a shiny new blacktop. A mere hour and a half earlier, the last vivid image I had of Port-au-Prince before stepping inside the airport was a naked man face down on the sidewalk, no one sure if he was still alive and a stoic UN officer just a stones throw away keeping post as if all was well. The streets were congested and full of potholes that were more like craters. The dirt, exhaust and humidity filled my sinuses and clung to my skin. People everywhere, seemed to move as a solid mass weaving in and out of heavy traffic that from my eyes was born from chaos theory. I knew that once I stepped on the plane that these visions of a desperately poor country would all be a memory.   

The contrast blows me away every time and somehow it is harder to accept what I see traveling home. The mundaneness of North America feels like a slap in the face, knowing that the people who just saw me off are going back to fight their endless battle to ensure their humanity is not forgotten in a sea of rotten politics and international markets that see chronic poverty as a good investment.

It was a great trip back to Haiti, albiet a hard one! The reality of the situation was driven home while standing on top of a pile of rubble up in Morne Lazarre (the neighborhood where the school resides). Rea pointed to where I was standing and said "three of my students are still under there" and pointing beside me, "two more are still under that pile".