Suddenly, I have no complaints. Or perhaps I should put it another way — I have complaints, but I’m tamping them down and putting them aside.
Not only am I keeping my mouth shut, I’m silencing the inward voice that whines its wishes inside my brain.
Complaints come so easily to me. For example, if I think back to yesterday, I recall complaining about being cold and tired. I actually voiced those complaints to other people. But because I was cold and tired, I stayed inside for the day and hardly spoke to anyone. I reserved my whining for myself and wished for things I didn’t have — a tidier house, Chinese take-away for supper.
But my complaints fell silent on Wednesday as I watched news reports of Haiti, where people no longer have houses to tidy, or restaurants to order food from, or beds to sleep in, or blankets to keep them warm.
When they complain that they are cold, tired, hungry and thirsty, they are voicing reality. Their voices call out in need, not complaint.
I cannot fathom the destruction of Haiti from this week’s earthquake.
I look at the photos of smashed buildings and dead bodies covered in sheets, but I cannot comprehend just how horrific it must be on the small Caribbean island that shares the Atlantic Ocean with us and is part of what we call The Americas.
And yet this disaster seems closer to home than others that have rocked our world in the last decade. There is good reason for this, not only because we are trans-Atlantic neighbours, but because Haiti is only a friendship or family member away for so many Canadians.
It makes me give away my need to complain. I simply can’t complain when I think about Haiti.
If I’m thirsty, I have a half a dozen options to quench my thirst, including clean tap water. If I’m cold, I simply turn up the thermostat or, if I’m worried about the heating bill, add another blanket to my bed. If I’m tired, I can sit myself down in a chair, or lie down in a bed. If I’m hungry, I take food out of the freezer, or pick up the phone and order a Chinese combination plate, pick up.
Today, millions of Haitians have none of the options I’ve just listed. Thousands no longer even have life. I cannot comprehend the magnitude of this. But I can respond. I can stop complaining. And I can give money.
At least 2,000 bodies lay in the street. Most of them were in a makeshift outdoor graveyard, where bodies were stacked on top of one other. An additional 1,000 bodies lay stacked inside the hospital’s morgue. Some of the bodies had been brought there by relatives, and others had died at the hospital.