TITANYEN, FEBRUARY 1, 2020

Yesterday, I  took part in a memorial service for over 50,000 of my Haitian friends, buried in a mass grave at  Titanyan, a lonely, desolate spot, located on the road between Port-au-Prince and St Marc.

I will never be the same.

It was an arid stretch of hillside, with not a single tree; nothing for cover but a hardy desert grass. A breeze moved dust,  raised by a dozen school buses that had transported  people to  the ceremony.  This had been arranged by Aimer Haiti, a movement for the revival of Haiti, created last year. It is now in the forefront, helping many Haitians in their efforts to meet the aftermath of devastation that, in only 44 seconds, destroyed Haiti, as it existed, forever.

1443 Hours, EDT, January 12, 2010.

Everyone in the crowd had someone in the mass grave. One small boy of 11 stood there, looking across the football-field sized gravesite. His faith, mother, three sisters, a brother and two aunts were resting there. He had no one left as he stood beside the memorial cross erected there, leaning against his pick. …………

He had helped with the burial.

I am Irish and the Irish are an emotional people.

There is no more fitting tribute.

There is no better expression of my feelings, and those of my Haitian compatriots gathered there… than can be found in Ireland’s unofficial national anthem.

I dedicate this to my 50,000 friends who rest here, plus the tens of thousands who remain buried and un-recovered……  And to the many others, who will be lost over the coming months to disease and other factors…

Click here to listen to Danny Boy being sung by Franc D’ambrosio

Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer’s gone, and all the flowers are dying
‘Tis you, ’tis you must go and I must bide.

But come ye back when summer’s in the meadow
Or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow
‘Tis I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.

And if you come, when all the flowers are dying
And I am dead, as dead I well may be
You’ll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an “Ave” there for me.

And I shall hear, tho’ soft you tread above me
And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be
If you’ll not fail to tell me that you love me
I’ll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.

I’ll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.

All Haitians have someone at rest in this massive grave.

Everyone in Haiti is interrelated and shares in each other’s sorrow.

Millions of Haitians are scattered around the world, much like my Irish forefathers, all hoping to return one day – to the land they love. When they return, I hope they come and pay their respects to those we have lost.

They are waiting for you.

Sleep well my friends……