Haiti and Children: Difficult Discussions

Sharing Saturday

Given the nature of loss of a number of my recent postings, I was thinking I would post something lighter this week, maybe about the ridiculous late night television wars.

And then real catastrophe struck, devastating Haiti, necessitating still more conversation about loss. 

In fact, however, even before the earthquake, there was another, smaller loss of note. Miep Gies, the Dutch woman who hid Anne Frank and preserved her diary for the world, died at the age of 100 this week. I learned from her obituary that she and I share a birthday, which was a "click" moment of connection for me that morning.

I, like many of my contemporaries, grew up with Anne Frank imprinted on my heart. I read her diary for the first time when I was about 10 years old, and it made an enormous impression on me.  She was a girl I could relate to, and yet she had undergone horrible atrocities and a tragic death. She made it all accessible by her words – like me, she was a writer. And so Anne became my beacon, allowing me to see how I could make an impact on the world with my words. 

But what made Anne's story so resonant and scary was that it was true. Although I didn’t stay up at night worrying about Nazis taking me away, I did obsess about other atrocities that might reach my world, typical worries of a kid of the 70s and 80s – World War III and nuclear holocaust.

Miep Gies provided sanctuary and safety to the Franks and several other families for two years as they hid in the "Secret Annex" in Amsterdam. She put her own life on the line to deliver food and news and provide company to the refugees. After the Gestapo were tipped off and raided the Secret Annex and took Anne and her family away to their deaths, Miep, in an utterly selfless and brave act, visited the Gestapo headquarters and tried to bribe them to release the Franks. She put her life on the line in a way that few are willing to do. To the day she died, she refused to be perceived as a hero, but rather as a human being who did the only thing a human being could do.

Today, as we watch the devastation in Haiti, and haven't even begun to hear the true numbers of dead and wounded (although they are presumed to be in the hundreds of thousands,) we watch as other modern heroes board planes without a second thought to their own safety and fly in to help with the wreckage. We contemplate which relief organizations will best direct our funds from the safety of our computer screens while brave people risk their lives to pull the living out of rubble and try to bring in food and supplies to the children and adults who have lost everything.

The world is trying to provide some sanctuary in the midst of utter ruin. Just as Miep Gies provided sanctuary in the midst of utter hell.

How do I begin to have these conversations with my children? How do I teach them about both the monstrous, inexplicable evil of the Nazis, as well as the utterly random destruction of the city that was Port au Prince? Why Jews? Why Haitians? How do we explain why these things happen? And how do we instill a sense of obligation to help?

On Thursday morning, I asked my two younger children, 3rd and 5th graders, if any of their teachers had talked about the earthquake in school the day before. They had not.  I'm not surprised –  first of all, we Americans were only first getting a sense of the proportion of the disaster on Wednesday, and teachers did not really have time to incorporate a meaningful dialogue into their lessons. So I decided that it was my job to inform my children about this world event and to provide some context. 

The 5^th grader was hanging onto my every word – she already knows that there is bad in the world, having read a book about the Holocaust this year, and having been taught about it in religious school as well. She is trying hard to process what the destruction of a city has to do with her life of band practice, basketball and friendship. Maybe she's thinking about the children who have died. It's a tough thing to contemplate.

The 3rd grader was resistant to hearing too much. He is not quite ready to learn about how things fall apart.  He is just starting to run to the bus stop by himself, open our front door with a key, be able to cross the street and play outside without supervision. But he is also having a hard time falling asleep, and every night for the past two months has peppered me with questions about a fire in the house, monsters in the closet and robbers downstairs. He also, is trying to make sense of his fears, and thinking about Haiti is just too big and far away for now.

So I end where I began, with sanctuary. My balancing job is to provide my children with safe haven from their fears and worries so that they can move more easily in the world. But it is also to let them know, at the appropriate age and moment, that earthquakes can hit and bad people do bad things. But in the midst of these terrible tales, it is also my responsibility to tell them the stories of the heroes, like Miep Gies, who embody the human spirit of helping others when the times require and sanctuary has failed.

Comments

[Patrick J. Kiger]

Karen: A very thought-provoking essay. We've been grappling with the same dilemma.

[Gina Fiedel]

Thanks, Karen. I always enjoy reading these posts.

Haiti is such a special place to our family. I feel a now distant, but very personal connection from my childhood to Haiti and their culture. I was there twice and my parents went several times, made dear friends there, built a tradition of visiting- many family stories created there, art collected...so many influences artistically and otherwise. I wish I could go and help too. Wish I was one of those kinds of people that know how to do that.

And slightly off the subject, but thinking of Miep Gies prompts me to ask if you've read The Book Thief. And if you haven't, to highly highly suggest that you do.