She’d been to Nicaragua and Mexico on service learning projects in school, and she was certain she would eventually volunteer someplace where they spoke Spanish to make use of her undergraduate degree. But learning Creole and living in Haiti? Um — not really.
She says: “I think Haiti picked me. I didn’t pick Haiti.”
Rachel Prusynski went there on somewhat of a whim. Her best friend, Molly Hightower, was spending a year working with orphans. Rachel had a month off between semesters in her doctoral physical therapy studies, which is why Rachel went to Haiti, and why nothing else would ever be the same again.
Over her break, Rachel and Molly spent their days at the hospital working with children with special needs and their evenings doing girlfriend things. For 12 days, they enjoyed their time together.
One day, back from an afternoon of shopping, Molly and another volunteer went to their rooms while Rachel and the volunteer’s brother (also visiting from the States) went to the seventh floor of the building to use the computers. At 4:32 p.m. on Jan. 12, 2010, the shaking started. The word in Creole is tranbleman té a: earthquake.
Rachel wrote a poem:
“Haiti haunts me
Because I feel guilt
Because I feel guilty every day
Because now I live for two people …”
The building pancaked, trapping all four of them. Rachel — somehow — crawled or was pulled from the rubble. Bleeding, her arm broken, glass embedded in her skin, Rachel was taken by passers-by to the American Embassy within hours of the earthquake.
The next day, she was evacuated to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, and three days later, she was back in Boise.
Bit by bit, she would learn that the volunteer, Erin Kloos, had been found alive in the rubble.
But her brother, Ryan Kloos, who’d been sitting just inches away from Rachel, did not survive. Neither did Molly, found two floors lower.
“Haiti amplified (everything). Now I have this second chance.”
Rachel describes a love/hate relationship with Haiti. On the one hand, her heart is broken by poverty that is endemic.
On the other hand, being in Haiti is the one place where she finds solace.
“These people … know what it feels like to lose someone in an earthquake. So they’re my people. It will always be that way.”
And the guilt. Oh, the guilt.
Even before the earthquake, Rachel (who is a 2005 Bishop Kelly graduate) had been developing a philosophy she calls the “original birthday gift.”
The idea started when she went to Nicaragua and watched people dig through mountains of burning garbage looking for food or something to sell.
The idea was amplified in Haiti, when she hugged children born with AIDS, and held babies who, at 3 months old, were the size of grapefruits; and when she did physical therapy with children stricken with entirely preventable diseases, such as meningitis and malnutrition.
“(I realized this): I did nothing, absolutely nothing, to ensure that it wasn’t me who was born into that garbage dump or born with AIDS to a mother who abandoned me.
“(And likewise), none of us chose to be born into these lives where we have food and clean water and families who can afford to send us … maybe to college.
“(In the slums of Nicaragua or Haiti), you see these kiddos — just like you when you were 2 or 3 years old … They didn’t deserve that, just like I didn’t deserve this.”
That’s the birthday gift. But it comes with a catch.
“You have to start deserving that gift.”
Because the inequity bothers her. A lot.
“You might as well work as hard as you can to kind of even it out. ...
“And the great thing is: Every morning, you wake up, you have a new chance to be something extraordinary.”
She wouldn’t say so herself, but Rachel has become that person.
Tormented by wanting to return to Haiti immediately, she instead dedicated herself to fundraising in the United States.
She’ll graduate in May and, after working a couple of years to become more experienced, she will return to Haiti — to finish Molly’s year of work.
“I get a lot of ‘You’re so inspirational,’ and that’s sweet. But I’m just 24. I read a few books and volunteer. It’s not that hard.
“I don’t like that pedestal for either of us. It gives (other people) an excuse to separate themselves: ‘This is a person who is so amazing.’ But no, you’re that person. You can do that, too.”
Her friend Molly is her case in point.
Rachel emphasizes that Molly didn’t start out looking very extraordinary: She had an average grade point average, slept till noon, had an unhealthy obsession with Diet Dr. Pepper and “America’s Next Top Model.”
“Molly proved to me that ordinary people can do extraordinary things, and I believe her legacy is thus … She was a normal college student who woke up and decided one day to be more than that. Anyone can make a similar decision.”
If there’s a sense of urgency there, you’re right. It’s there, along with a sense of obligation that she feels everyone should have, not just those who have survived earthquakes.
Rachel’s favorite quote is from Jean-Bertrand Aristide, former president of Haiti: “ ‘Tout moun se moun.’ Every person is a person.
“If I had to say what I believe in (it’s that). We’re human beings. We’re all each other has. … No matter what, they’re still a part of the human family, and so we’re going to help them. … There’s no giving up on people, because you wouldn’t want them to do the same to you.”
In January, Rachel returned to Haiti for the one-year anniversary of the earthquake. She climbed into the ruins of the cathedral with echoes of her own experience causing anxiety, fear and also a new conviction.
“The earthquake, losing Molly and getting through this last year has taught me that I cannot live with regrets. … Life is precious. But life is also short …
“Sometimes I resent Haiti for bringing an unexpected path to my life, for taking Molly, and for making it difficult to relate as easily to others. … Sometimes I hate Haiti a lot. But sometimes, I am also incredibly grateful for the richness of experience and the amount of conviction and passion Haiti has brought to my life.”
Rachel lives with the burdens of responsibility for having a second chance, and of opportunity that comes from living a bountiful life. It’s a delicate balance; she’s working on paying off her original birthday gift debt.
“Something out there is telling me that I need to do something with my life because I have all these blessings and I have a life that two people, who were in the same building with me, don’t ...
“But you can turn your life into one big thank you note.”
Know someone living “from the heart”? Idaho Statesman photojournalist Katherine Jones spotlights someone in the Treasure Valley who influences our lives not only by what they do, but how and why they do it. Do you know someone we should know? Call 377-6414 or email kjones@idahostatesman.com.
The earthquake in Haiti killed Rachel Prusynski’s friend, so she lives for two and does her best to deserve the ‘original birthday gift.’
