Recognising International Women's Day

08 March 2010

By Crystal Wells

On March 8th, we invite you to help us celebrate International Women's Day. Around the world, in conflict and disaster zones, 80 percent of those affected are women and children. But even in chaos, it is the women who are often the ones to hold families together and drive meaningful change.

The two women in this story are no different.  Both survivors of the devastating 7.0-earthquake that hit Haiti January 12, Mana and Marieta are generations apart, yet define what it is to be beautiful, strong women. We hope you will recognise International Women's Day with us by sharing this story with your family and friends.

The tents at University Hospital are stifling.  The air, thick with moisture, blankets each tent like a thick comforter in the middle of July.  On the hottest days, the temperature in the tents can reach as high as 110 F.  The patients rest side-by-side on simple beds, not more than a foot away from each other, with flies and mosquitoes humming in their ears. 

To put it simply, the tents are uncomfortable, congested, and coveted real estate for people who have lost their homes and have nowhere to go. 

Many patients have been at the University Hospital since the earthquake and, despite the uncomfortable living conditions in the hospital, do not want to leave because they have lost everything and have nowhere to go when they are discharged.

International Medial Corps is running patient triage and 24-hour emergency care at University Hospital.  Our volunteer doctors and nurses are also responsible for checking in on patients recovering from surgery and other conditions that require them to stay in the hospital for a couple days to as long as a few months. 

At one of the post-operative tents where International Medical Corps provides follow-up care, I met a young woman, Mana Alexandra, who at just 22 years old, lost both of her legs in the earthquake.  She sat elegantly perched on her bed, her slender frame resembling the grace and poise of a dancer, and welcomed me to sit with her and talk, as if meeting her in a café for coffee. 

After examining my stubby nails and shaking her head, Mana told me that she was in cosmetology school before the earthquake and loved to do women’s hair and apply acrylic nails.  This is something that she hopes to pursue again, but she lost both her home and husband in the earthquake and has an eight-month-old child to care for.

“I was outside my mother’s house when it happened,” Mana said.  “The church next door fell on the house.”

Mana was rushed to University Hospital, where she received surgery and wound care from International Medical Corps doctors and nurses and other organisations working on the grounds.  She has lived in the hospital for one month and seven days and today, with new bandages and a wheelchair, Mana is leaving to be with her aunt and eight-month-old baby.  “But I have no tent, so I will join my aunt underneath a big tarp where other people are sleeping,” she said.

If it were not for her baby, Mana told me, she would want to stay here in the University Hospital.  “I feel very comfortable here and have made close friends,” Mana said, nodding to the young woman in the bed across from her.  “But I am leaving today and I want to see my baby."

Mana is far from the only patient at University Hospital who has made a home there.  Another woman, Marieta Blanc, an elderly, but vivacious woman, with a hoarse laugh and one remaining tooth, said that she does not want to leave because all her family lives in New York City and she has no one to care for her when she leaves.  “I feel so sad,” she said.  “I have no one.” 

My phone burned in my pocket during our conversation.  I hesitated to ask if she had her family’s number in the United States, but I did anyway.  “When my house fell, I lost everything,” she said.  “They don’t know where I am or even if I am alive.  There number is buried in my house and everything has probably been stolen by now.”  

A brick fell on her foot and she needed surgery, which she received at University Hospital in the chaotic week following the earthquake.  “I have been here ever since and the doctors come to see me for physical therapy,” she said.  “It still is very painful to walk but it’s getting stronger.” 

In leaving the tent, I looked at Mana and Marieta, two women decades apart from one another.  One had family coming to retrieve her.  The other was alone with not a soul to call.  One would never walk with her legs again and the other was regaining the strength to do so. 

But both were smiling.  Both were thankful.  And both were beautiful.