Katz & Farmer: Home & Suffering

     According to Paul Farmer, human suffering “must be embedded in ethnography if … representativeness is to be understood” (378). This assertion perfectly accompanies Jonathan Katz’s personal account of Haiti pre and post earthquake of January 2010. Giving horrific images and media-fueled rumors actual context, Katz uses relationships, stories, and observations to embed the human suffering of Haitians into its tumultuous and limited ethnography.

     Both Farmer and Katz’ pieces got me thinking about what I know of human suffering. I’ve experienced a parent’s death and the F-5 tornado that tore through Tuscaloosa in 2011, but other than that…nothing that would be determined a hardship. These experiences would hardly register on what Farmer describes as the “human suffering index” (369). Although I don’t know what the leading causes of death are in my home country, I am sure that they are not AIDS and political violence, like in Haiti (377). Farmer suggests that another reason my suffering would not register on the index might be because I am of a higher socioeconomic status. Thus, although I am less likely to suffer, my suffering would more than likely be noticed. This is the opposite scenario of those who are most at risk for structural violence, as made especially possible by impoverished conditions (383). When it comes to comparing my personal experiences – or, theorizing from the flesh – to storm victims, ChouChou, or Acephie, it seems clear that I know nothing of true human suffering. After all, “structural violence all too often defeats those who would describe it,” and since I am not subjected to it, I cannot describe it or be defeated by it (377). I will probably never know what it is like to feel how the man did whom Katz encountered in Carrefour: “But where we are, they will not see us” (78).

     Katz’s in-depth description of human suffering is one that certainly leaves feelings of unsettledness. These feelings far precede the post-storm aid allocations, and I was upset from the beginning, most notably when the author tells of the United States withholding aid from Haiti in the 80’s until “proper” (i.e. Americanized) elections were held (45). The patronizing actions taken by not only the US, but also many other large and affluent countries, were often quick fixes disguised as a humanitarian effort for the purpose of maintaining power and influence over Haiti’s people and economy. Unfortunately, this fight for power never resulted in questions on disaster preparation or what could be done to actually help Haiti’s at-risk populations. When the quake struck, “great government ministries and posh hotels had crumbled alongside the meanest cinder-block homes” (55). In this scenario, it seems the storm did not discriminate; poorly built homes fell just as easily as high-end buildings that were not up to code. The post-quake reaction, however, did discriminate; not only were relief efforts mainly focused on the capital, but the buildings where machinery and resources pooled were those which housed higher-class blans or foreigners. What does this say about relief work? Katz writes: “Donors and responders are seldom asked to take a hard look at themselves” (284). If we did, what would we really see? In reality, the picture would be pretty grim, as Katz illustrates, but since we always define the self in relation to the other, those who give money, aid, or resources to the victims can only see themselves as heroes.

     For me, the most thought-provoking statement from Katz was towards the end of the book, when he states that living in Haiti “rewires you” (273). Katz references Haiti as his home several times in the book, and when he was supposed to return to his “natural home,” he was reluctant and uncomfortable. Keeping in mind Ahmed and Castenada, memory (Katz’s book/experiences) and home (his physical and emotional location for several years) cannot be separated from material objects and rituals” (9). These elements, then, rewired Katz’s thoughts on home-building and meaning-making, and when he finally did leave, it was out of pure frustration and exhaustion. This did not make Haiti any less of his home, especially since home and migration should be thoughts of in terms of a plurality of experiences (Ahmed 2).