Hope and Belief

Hope and Belief

I was recently asked by a journalist to talk about my experiences working on the disaster relief efforts for the American Samoa tsunami. I would like to share my response to one of her question, not because it is particularly profound, but because it expressed a sentiment that I had difficulty expressing until that moment.

Q: Despite the long hours, extreme fatigue and seeing pain and suffering every day, what about your experience in American Samoa made it all worth it?

A: For me, the big payoff is always in small things. As Mass Care Administrator I spend the whole day thinking as globally as I can -- how are we going to help thousands of victims? How are we going to get enough trucks, enough supplies, enough workers, enough warehouse space? My job is to struggle with politics, weather, logistics, money, resources and time as best as I can, as cleverly as I can, for as long as I can. Large scale disaster relief operations are always about compromise and struggle -- you are always trying to push a big rock up a steep hill. When it gets a little overwhelming I do something small. I give out cookies to little children. I spend a few minutes with elderly victims talking about their life experiences.

I remember a Grandfather who came to see me. He was from a small village to the west. He had been told by the government that the water was safe to drink but it wasn’t. His four grandchildren were now sick. He went to the chieftain who told him to see the American Samoa government. He borrowed a truck and drove to Pago Pago to see the government. The government sent him to FEMA. FEMA sent him to the Red Cross. Someone in the Red Cross pointed him to me. I asked him what he needed. He said water for his grandchildren. Anything else? No, that was it. I walked out to the storage area and carried four cases of water to his truck. It was enough for a few days. The Grandfather gave me a hug and started crying. His problems weren’t solved but he now had hope and belief. Those are big things -- hope and belief.

You can’t dwell on what you are unable to do. The larger the disaster the more that is true. You dwell on what you are able to accomplish. There were times during this operation when we had no water to give out. There were times when the Red Cross was the only organization who had water but we could have used much more. Is that sad? Yes. But perhaps there are four grandchildren, in a village somewhere, who I will never meet, who were restored to good health by a few cases of water. Perhaps they are playing in the sunshine as I write this. We make a difference to people who I will never see and in ways that I will never understand. But it doesn’t matter. It is not necessary that I see or understand. It is enough for me to have the hope and belief. That is the big secret. The Grandfather and I received the same gift during our short meeting -- hope and belief. This makes all of the long hours, the fatigue, the pain and sadness worthwhile. No question.