Clinging to faith
2010-01-23 11:25
Port-au-Prince - There is not much left of the city's numerous churches, beside crosses and the occasional surviving stained glass window. Even the cathedral suffered irreparable damage.
But that doesn't deter hundreds of Haitians who congregate daily outside the ruined churches at improvised Masses to pray, giving thanks for being alive, begging mercy for the souls of their dead or, simply to seek an oasis of peace amid the chaos wrought by the quake that destroyed so many lives in the impoverished nation.
Some days, the religious hymns can be heard non-stop from sunset until the fist light of dawn.
The church of St Pierre is one of the few still standing in the capital city. But although not readily apparent, it suffered enough structural damage that nobody now dares to enter.
Since the quake, priests have celebrated regular Masses in a small patio outside the nave.
More than 100 people congregate at the afternoon vigil, seated on benches or old chairs, facing an improvised altar with a small crucifix that is brought out each day with utmost care.
Those who can't fit in remain to worship outside the iron bars, and passersby pause at least long enough to make the sign of the cross.
"Courage and mutual respect," the priest exclaims in prayer. All gathered there know exactly what he is referring to.
Chaotic refugee camps
Outside, life continues in its chaotic frenzy. The plaza of St Pierre, in Perionville, has become one of the hundreds of refugee camps that have cropped up in the city.
Thousands of people rush as dusk falls to bathe or gather water from a donated tank to cook whatever they can find to eat. Children run and play wildly as the adults listen attentively to a man giving instructions on how to receive coupons for food rations.
Cars pass by, some with the music blaring. Vendors make a final sweep with their carts of drinks or food.
But all of that all seems unheard on the other side of the portal where the Mass is celebrated.
There, a woman's sweet voice intones a hymn that renders the chaos outside distant. Another woman passes the collection basket, and some have a few coins to contribute. All hold hands, and manage a hint of a smile despite the numerous personal tragedies suffered.
Peace, if only for a brief space in time, returns to this corner of the city.
"I pray for God to help us and give us strength," explains one of the many women who say they attend every afternoon. "Prayer helps us," says another.
At the end of Mass, an old woman gratefully hugs the young priest.
Religion is deeply rooted in Haiti. Practically everything is entrusted to "Bon Dieu," the Good Lord, from the establishment of the lottery to the operation of the colourful public buses.
With the little they have left, and the great uncertainty they face, Haitians cling to their faith. It seems to be the one thing that, until now, the earthquake has not ripped away from them.
- SAPA