On October 1st, a mudslide tore through the town of Santa Catarina Pinula. As of today, October 9th, 253 have been confimed dead, and almost 400 still missing.
More than 100 homes were demolished in a section of the town known as Cambray II. The area of the disaster has been declared uninhabitable, and crews working at the site will decide on Monday whether to designate it a cemetery.
Earlier this week, our ministry host asked if any of us wanted to go visit the site of the mudslide and help in any way we can. We all decided to go. At first I was excited to go and help, but last night, I heard someone say “What if we see dead bodies?” That’s when I realized I actually didn’t want to go at all. I didn’t think about what we might encounter out there. I didn’t really think at all.
Regardless, at 6:30am, the 20 of us hopped onto our bus and left. The drive there seemed to take forever. Not knowing what we would be driving up to terrified me.
When we got there, we pulled up to a relief center. Most of us stayed here sorting shoes, clothes, and food. We helped for about two hours, and then went down the street to meet up with the others in our group.
I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t to be walking towards a morgue. Dozens of people in canopy tents waited for the names of those found. The people here were waiting to collect the bodies of their loved ones and bury them. I knew the mudslide had killed hundreds, and left hundreds missing, but here I met the faces of the broken. Here I saw real and true pain. Here I felt the hurt that was so suffocating.
I don’t know what I expected, but this was not it. The search for the living is soon to be called off; knowing that there most likely won’t be any more survivors being pulled out from the mud. The families waiting knew what they were waiting for, but I could have never imagined. To wait, and know, but not wanting to face the reality just yet; having the smallest of hopes.
In one moment, I looked around the tents and didn’t see anyone sobbing or hysterical at all. What I saw was worse. People who couldn’t lift their head to speak, or move a muscle at all; people who were numb. Children, siblings, parents… they were all there and they were all missing.
I don’t know what I expected but it was not the smell of the dead.
Only two of the guys from my squad were allowed into the actual morgue. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t to hear what they had seen in that room.
I was half expecting to see bodies, but what I saw was far worse than that. I saw the living. I saw the hurting and broken. I saw pain like I have never seen it in my life.
I don’t know what I expected, but today was not it. Today my heart breaks for the statistics you see on the news. Today I question why things like this happen. Today I wonder why I have been so blessed.
I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this.
