Every inch of Breeze’s body ached unbearably as the weight of Ma’tee’s home rested on top of her. “Help me!” she screamed, her voice raspy and sore from strain. For two days, she had been trapped beneath the rubble. She was trapped next to Ma’tee’s decaying body, and the smell was slowly driving her insane. His dead eyes haunted her as they stared in her direction. She could still hear his voice in her head, terrorizing her, telling her that she would never escape, and she felt nothing but utter hopelessness, because she knew that no one even knew where to begin looking for her.
Breeze’s body wanted to give out on her. Without food she was weak, but she knew that she could not give into death. She had to make it out of this alive. She had come too far to die now. Ma’tee could no longer hold her captive.
Physically, she knew that she was injured, but she blocked out the pain as she tried to keep her mind strong. She knew that once her will disappeared she would die, so she tried her best to remain calm. Her father had always told her that panic sent logic right out the window, and she would need to think clearly in order to survive.
The excruciating heat made her feel as if she were roasting in a cement oven. The blocks resting on top of her baked beneath the sun all day, burning her so badly that it felt as if a hot iron were being placed to her skin.
She was grateful when the sun began to set, but the night brought on a completely different set of problems for Breeze. The sounds of the jungle terrified her, as the wildlife was attracted to the scent of Ma’tee’s corpse. She wished that she could cover her ears, but her hands were smashed beneath the rock, and the only thing she could do was close her eyes.
Zyir’s face popped into her mind as she tuned out the sounds of the night. He had always been her voice of reason when she needed him, and as she visualized him in her mind, she realized that she couldn’t quite remember all of the details of his face. Too much time had passed, and she no longer held his exact features to memory. It was then that she grew more determined than ever to make it home.
She had very little faith that her prayers would be answered. Speaking to God had not saved her from Ma’tee’s torture, so she was skeptical that He would spare her from this. She was tired of the hardship that had become her life, and a part of her wished that she had been the one to die when the earthquake first hit. It seemed that Ma’tee had been granted the easy way out, while she was left to suffer.
She could feel herself dying slowly. With every minute that passed, her heartbeat slowed down. It was only a matter of time before it gave out. Breeze suffered through the sounds of the night with her eyes closed, but sleep never came. Her nerves were too on edge for her to rest. The ground had not stopped shaking beneath her. Every few hours, another aftershock set off more destruction, shifting the house on top of her and causing her even more pain. The threat of it falling in on her completely was a constant threat. Any second she could be crushed to death, and the impending circumstance caused her body to tremble.
She began to talk to herself just to stay lucid, singing songs that she remembered to stop herself from giving in to the pain. Everything in her just wanted to let the earth swallow her. Exhaustion and fatigue caused her eyelids to become heavy.
Just as the daylight came creeping back across the horizon, she heard the sound of human voices. She strained to listen, thinking that her mind was playing an evil trick on her.
“Hello? Is anyone out there?” she called out at the top of her lungs. When she didn’t hear a response, her heart dropped in disappointment, but the footsteps around her grew increasingly more audible. Straining her ears, she finally confirmed the voices. She could not make out what they were saying, but it didn’t matter; she could not let them pass her by.
“Help! Help me!” she yelled desperately as she pushed against the rock, steel, and slate that imprisoned her. She screamed so loudly that her lungs hurt and she choked on the dust in the air, but she did not stop until she got the attention of the men. After locating her voice underneath the ominous pile, they rushed to her aid.
“Get me out! Get me out!” she cried frantically. “Please hurry!” She panicked as she felt the men lifting the concrete from her body. The closer they got to rescuing her, the more Breeze hyperventilated. Relief washed over her as she wept loudly. She had never been so glad to hear another human voice.
The men worked diligently to dig Breeze out as they spoke in a native Haitian dialect that she could not understand. They had no machines or forklifts, only their bare hands and the strength that God had given them, but that did not stop them from helping Breeze. Although a language barrier stopped them from communicating, they knew what the look in her eyes meant. They could see her pleading with them to get her out.
The more weight that was lifted off of Breeze, the more pain she felt. Her legs were completely useless. The blood flow had been cut off from them, and her light skin had turned a sickening blue.
Once they could maneuver her out, one of the men picked her up, while the others began to dig out Ma’tee.
“No!” she yelled. The men looked at her in confusion, but none of them stopped digging. They refused to leave a man behind. When they finally removed Ma’tee from the rubble, they realized that he was already dead. They debated whether they should carry his body down the mountain, but there was no point in wasting their energy on him. Even if they did take his body to the town, it would just lie out in the streets. No one who died in this tragedy would receive a proper burial, so they figured it best to just let him be.
Breeze let her head rest against the chest of one of the rescuers as they began their descent down the mountain. Not once did she look back. She was eager for help, and expected to be rescued as soon as they finished their descent down the mountain. She was unprepared for the chaos that awaited her in the city of Port- au-Prince. Everything had been destroyed, and there were too many people to help and not enough relief to make a difference.
The men dropped Breeze off at a safety site that had been set up, and went on their way. It was a free for all; everyone was out for self, and the lack of organization gave her no one to turn to. She was left to fend for herself.
The safety site looked more like a demolition site to Breeze. Makeshift tents had been made out of sheets and spare fabric to cover some of the injured people being treated by the doctors. The chaos was overwhelming as Breeze surveyed the aftermath of the quake. Trapped atop the mountain with Ma’tee, she had no idea how big the earthquake really was.
The magnitude of its destruction was unimaginable. Everyone was displaced, everyone was injured, everyone needed help. This natural disaster had destroyed an entire nation of people, so much so that even the organizations that had come to help did not know where to start.
Breeze had been one of the lucky ones. She had made it out of the rubble. She was cut badly, bruised beyond belief, and starving for nutrition, but she was alive, and as she looked around sadly at all of the dead bodies, she realized how grateful she was.
When the circulation finally came back to her legs, she walked aimlessly, trying not to stare at the lost children who walked the streets, many in search of parents they would never find. Their cries made her cringe because she knew exactly how it felt to be ripped from those you love.
American camera crews recorded the horrendous tragedy, and even CNN’s Anderson Cooper reported live in an attempt to display what was happening to the world. Haiti had been impoverished for years, but the earthquake had put the international spotlight on the black nation.
Breeze was dumbfounded because although America was reporting on the situation, she never saw one reporter put down their microphones to assist or offer help. When the little red lights of their camera came on and the crew was filming, they were engaged and sympathetic, but when it came down to actually contributing to humanity, they all recoiled selfishly. As soon as the cameras stopped rolling, their concern for the earthquake victims dwindled, proving to Breeze that it was all for show. There were people dying around them, and all they cared about was the story.
