A Little Breath
by Aljany Narcius. Editorial and additional writing provided by the Heartline Haiti team.
Nine months have passed since Rosenie gave birth to her youngest child at the Heartline Maternity Center. He’s a little boy that paws at her face as she speaks, often sleeps against her chest.
“When I look at him, I tell myself I don’t have the right to give up,” she says. Her voice does not tremble.
Life has carried on in Cité Soleil, Haiti’s most infamous slum. One of the many shacks is Rosenie’s, where she lives with her husband and their three children. It was always hard to live in Cité Soleil, but now, in the fourth or fifth year of Haiti’s gang war (open to debate), things are more complicated than ever.
Getting around is not only a struggle with failing infrastructure, it is a test of your war knowledge. Where is the fighting today? Where has it stopped, and where might it start again? Where can I walk safely? Where can my children?
The heavy Caribbean nights are interrupted by the crack of gunfire, sometimes close, sometimes distant. There is still something more pressing than the war, than the poverty. Hunger.
Like nearly 6 million Haitians – more than half the population – Rosenie’s family faces what the UN calls “food insecurity.” Haiti is past the point of being poor –terms like “famine” and “acute malnutrition” are more appropriate.
Business closures, gang control of farmland, inaccessible markets, irregular income all contribute. For Rosenie, there are days everyone eats. There are days when only the children eat. There are days when nobody eats.
“There were times when I told them to drink some water and go to bed,” Rosenie murmurs. She is not seeking pity or sympathy from me. She is simply telling the truth.
School on hold
When the school year began on October 1st, the children had to stay home. The family could not afford the enrollment fees, much less uniforms or supplies. Watching them look out the window as other children walked to school was painful.
“They asked me, ‘Mom, are we going to go back too?’” she recalls. “I told them, ‘yes… but not yet.’”
She had no reason to believe that, no certainty. Only hope.
A small opening
In early November, something finally began to shift. The Heartline Maternity Center followed up with Rosenie. Through Heartline’s Community Care program, Rosenie received 25,000 gourdes (about $200 USD) as a grant to start a small business. She bought rice, sugar, pasta, oil, seasonings, and a small wooden table to set up her stall in front of the house.
The goal is simple: earn just enough profit to send the children back to school in January.
“When I received that money, I felt a window open. Not a big door, but a small window. And there was air behind it,” Rosenie says. “I hadn’t breathed like that in a long time.”
Her husband – who like many Haitians, is hunting for steady work – is doing his part too. He’s taken up tutoring, working with high school students for about 5,000 gourdes ($40) per student. It’s not a stable income, but it is what he can offer.
“When Rosenie received this support, I felt I wasn’t carrying everything alone anymore,” he says. “It gives us a little breath.”
What Heartline continues to do
Heartline’s mission is to invest in Haitian families – in big ways and small ones. We’ve said before that our work cannot end the war, cannot rebuild the government, cannot return other NGOs to Haiti.
But with Heartline’s help – with your help – families endure — one more month, one more season, one more chance.
Today in a shack in Cité Soleil, Rosenie perseveres. She’s taking one step at a time, doing what she can today, believing that tomorrow will be better.
And she’s not alone. She is like thousands of Haitian parents determined to give their children everything they can. They walk a path of quiet and patient resistance to overwhelming odds.
When you support Heartline this Christmas season, you can walk alongside them. If you believe, as we do, that every mother deserves to give birth safely, that every child deserves a chance to grow, that enduring one more day is worth it, then consider a gift today.
It may be the little breath that someone needs to make it another day.
About the Author
Aljany Narcius
Haitian journalist Aljany Narcius is currently pursuing a Master 2 in Media Management, online from France’s University of Lille. With ten years of experience in the fields of journalism and communication, Aljany is a linguist who uses the Creole language as her weapon in the fight against social inequalities, exploitation, and all kinds of violence.
