Justice Looks Like Love
Author: Alix Comeau, RN, Haiti Mama
Gadley was one of the sweetest children I have ever met. He had a smile that could just reach into you and warm you from the inside out.
And that giggle... from the first moment I met him, I loved him--it was impossible not to. And then on a Friday afternoon in November, the horrible awful happened. A police officer, aiming for a gangster, shot Gadley in the back as he was playing outside his home.
His mama, just arriving home from work, picked up her bleeding baby and held him tight as a moto driver carried them down the bumpy Port au Prince roads to find a hospital, because that police officer didn't know what he'd done, or didn't care.
Gadley died in the hospital. And in order for the hospital to not throw his little body away, we had to drive to the police station, where the officer on duty yelled at and belittled his grieving parents, in defense of the police officer in question. We then had to pay off a judge, who at the time I thought was going to help us file a petition against the officer, but was really only there to give us permission to move the body from the hospital to the morgue. I later learned that filing a complaint against the police would not only be expensive but could also place a target on Gadley's family and would likely be more harmful than helpful.
Haiti is hard.
It. Is. So. Hard.
It is easy to be swept away by the
tide of all of the injustice and lose your mind with all of the "why?"s.
Why did he have to die in the first place? Why is there so much greed and corruption? Why does the goverment do so little to look out for its people? Why is it so difficult to get justice?
I was asking all of those questions, standing in the kitchen with a lump in my throat, tired of crying, when Talia, her words like a balm
to my raw heart, said something like, "Tausha says, 'Justice looks like love.'" And it's true. We may not have justice in the way that we want it, and we may not have answers to any of the gnawing questions, but there is so much love. And love overcomes everything. Even corruption, and greed, and mangled hearts.
Haiti Mama is a family, especially in times of crisis. Everyone- and I really do mean everyone- came together to support Gadley's family and one another. We cried together, held each other up, prayed together, sang
together, and were broken together. It was raw but it was also beautiful.
A few days ago, Gadley's mama said to me, "Haiti Mama got me through this. There wouldn't have been a funeral if it wasn't for Haiti Mama. They would have thrown my baby's body away if it wasnt for Haiti Mama. Tell them thank you."
Love overcomes injustice. Thank you for being part of our family. Thank you for the love.
Do not be dismayed by the brokenness of the world. All things break.
And all things can be mended. Not with time, as they say, but with
intention . So go. Love intentionally, extravagantly, unconditionally.
The broken world waits in darkness for the light that is you. ~ L.R. Knost