Fr. Rick Frechette C. P.

Haiti Now: Hells & Luminescence

by

Dear family and friends,

As we have made our way through the weeks celebrating Easter, Ascension and soon Pentecost, the sufferings in which we accompany the Haitian people are the farthest you can imagine from being joyful and consoling.

Since Lent began in March, many farmers, young and old, have been killed in their fields in Berlot (Kenscoff Mountains). A whole family was burned alive in nearby Pernier. Four members of a parish youth group were hung by their arms from the Church rafters in Carrefour Bert (Kenscoff Mountains), and one of the security agents from our orphanage was brutally killed and his body burned in Furcy.

These are terrors just from only the past few weeks, and only some of those near us. We are in our fifth year of these vicious attacks by gangs on the population, country wide. Imagine the depth of the national suffering.

Read more

The Fields of Tanis (a reflection from Haiti)

by

Dear Family and Friends,

The Haitian people are living through a fourth year of violent torment.

It is the tragic unravelling of the country, with vengeful political discord and the rule of gangs, keeping everything on a crash course.

Having been surrounded by gun battles for most of the past 7 days, and having helped many gunshot, traumatized, robbed, abused and humiliated people over these years, it is more than evident that a bullet easily destroys the whole person: body and mind, heart and soul.

So I had every sympathy for “Keket” yesterday when she, like so many, came to see me for any kind of help.

She was a strong, stocky market woman, in her sixties, until very recently when weakened by a stroke. Since so many clinics and hospitals have closed in the past years, Keket was “lost to follow up.” The whole country is lost to follow up. The whole country is sick in every sense.

Read more

Brother Sun

by

Dear family and friends,As I write these words, the violent rule of gangs in Port au Prince in increasing, and reaching our neighborhood, which is also the neighborhood of US Embassy.

The Embassy is, during these very days, evacuating all non-emergency personnel.The effect on us is that our hospital now receives many warlike trauma and gunshot injuries, especially since the specialty hospital nearby that was managing them closed, precisely because of armed attack on their hospital.We cannot get surgeons to come to our area. It is a red zone. And like many hospitals in Port au Prince, we cannot even keep the competent people we already have, since many are fleeing Haiti to raise their families in a safer country.We are not capable of managing high level trauma. It means we stabilize the gunshot injured as best as we can and transfer them to a private surgery center at our expense, for which we have no budget but must act to save lives.We are facing the worse crisis we have ever faced in 34 years of dedicated mission here, and the consequences are not only the disintegration of a nation and all the institutions that constitute civilization, but the people are floundering in a tsunami of despair. The dangerous sickness of despair surrounds us like a violent sea in a hurricane.And yet amid all of this, there was Raphael.

Read more

Song of Ascension

by

Dear friends and family,

We found the five of them under a Mango tree last night, to which we had been led by bandits after a release deal was cut by their families.

We were the “guarantors” that the ransom given by their families would achieve their freedom. (This is, in fact, almost never the case, until multiple ransoms are paid.)

It was a dark 10pm, made up of many kinds of darkness.

Read more

The Rose named Laetare

by

Dear Family and Friends,

Thilus just came back to us today, taking THREE MONTHS to get from Jacmel to Port au Prince.

He is 2 years old, his belly is tight like a drum and nearly bursting from an enormous and sick liver,
he has grey and flaking skin, he is weak and exhausted.
Jacmel is usually a FEW HOURS from Port au Prince by car. A little bit more by bus.

But not when your bus and everyone in it is KIDNAPPED crossing Martissant, on roads totally controlled by thieves,
and especially if there is no one on earth who can pay your ransom.

Read more

“Stay with it”: Letter from a Disaster

by

Dear friends,

I write this letter fully aware of the continued devastation of the war in Ukraine, with so many serious consequences and even worries of nuclear war.

I am also very shocked and saddened by the tremendous destruction and loss of life by Hurricane Ian in Florida.

I am following with deep sympathy the destruction by the powerful storms devastating most of the countries in Central America, and the ongoing plight of so many refugees in that area and worldwide.

If you are reading this, it’s because the people of Haiti are also important to you, as they are to me. I have never in my life seen such a confluence of destructive forces as are afflicting the people here. There really are no words to describe what is happening.

Read more

Epiphany, and the Flight into Egypt

by

 

While quietly crossing the threshold from a most difficult year into a (hopefully) better year, I lit a simple fire in an old tire rim, and with Orion twinkling in the darkness above, I contemplated the religious icon that accompanies these words.

Read more

Ransoms & Ripeness

by

Fr. Frechette has been writing regular updates from Haiti since the earthquake on August 14th. What follows are his two latest missives, starting with his most recent, which is marked by an undeniable urgency. His earlier update has an up ending that should give readers a genuine lift since Fr. Frechette’s good faith is the opposite of beamishness. His invocations of viridians in that first note made your editor think of Lorca’s Gypsy Ballad:

Green, how I want you green
Green wind. Green branches.
The ship out on the sea
and the horse on the mountain.

Maybe “Romance Sonámbulo” isn’t quite apt for a priest, but Fr. Frechette is large (and Lorca’s mountains and sea seem right for Haiti). Fr. Frechette may not be forever young but he is surely unwithered.

Read more

The Riderless Horse (Letter from Port au Prince)

by

The year was 1963. The name of the horse was Black Jack.

Even for a 10 year old, it was both moving and troubling to see the horse with no rider following the coffin of President John Kennedy–with a spirited strut, yet not easily controlled.

The horse with the empty saddle is an ancient symbol of poignant absence.

The horse without a master, the nation without a leader, the body without a soul.

We are living the painful and dangerous days after the brutal killing of Haitian President Jovenel Moise. The horse has no rider, and does not know where to turn.

Read more