And the rains did come...

I don't know how to describe the last two months to you. I had been warned that the rainy season in Ecuador could be tough (get the boots ready, padre) but this was not the image I had. We have truly experienced the most horrific consecuences of the worst "rainy" season in memory, (not one parishioner can remember worse). Every day, from lunch time until the next morning, constant downpouring from the heavens with a three of four hour reprieve in the morning as if to say "get the stocks in". In the mountains of Canar we have had terrible landslides, huge movements of earth - everywhere. Parishioners, especially elderly parishioners are living in a state of paralysing fear. I cannot tell you how many families I have been with who have just broke down crying having lost everything, land, home, (or what passed as) everything. I cannot describe the feeling of having someone stare at you through eyes of fear, fear at what might happen if that "abre" or "crack" in the earth, high above their home, fills with water that night. I have never witnessed the like.

During the past month I have managed to visit the majority of the thirty six communities in the parish, (some of them are simply incomunicado) and to witness a people already struggling with poverty, now have to come to terms with the destruction of the very little they have, of dwellings, lands and sometimes life. Three weeks ago, I helped some people recover the remains of José Zamora from the mudslide where he spent the night. He was 65 and was attempting to move his two cows from one patch of grass to another, fearing they might be washed away, they are still eating, God rest him. Some days later, we discovered the remains of a young girl returning to her family in the town of La Troncal for "La Carnevale". She and three of her friends were overwhelmed be a slide, they recovered, she is now at peace. They have been many such stories. Two friends of mine from the almost always incomunicado communitiy of Ciemientos, were helping out in a "minga" which would roughly correspond to the Irish "meatheal", a group working voluntarily for the betterment of their community. (A memory in my homeland unfortunately). Anyway, Olger and his wife Olga and their family were helping out to clear some pathways through the mountains of the mud of an earlier slide when their young son, Franklin, (5) was washed away. He was not found until late the next day, two metres beneath the surface. I suppose these stories give some sense of the tragedy, of the pain, of what has happened to our parish community in the last month.

I, Fr. John and some young people spent all day yesterday delivering rations of food to the most affected families. Last week, in a meeting of the Red Cross and Plan International (two international organisations with immense resourses) it transpired that help was not forthcoming, at least for some weeks. This, obviously, was unacceptable as many families in our parish were starving. We decided to try. Thanks to the support of my homeland and a very kind donation from Mary Keane in Youghal, ( sister of my colleague Fr. John) we found ourselves in a position to buy rice, sugar, tuna, pasta and flour to the tune of $5000. We gathered members of the central community together for many hours to make rations which would last two weeks for the families most affected. If need be and the Red Cross do not arrive, we may have to return to those same families next Sunday. God will provide as always, I'm sure. Tomorrow, Tuesday, we will visit another 110 families in a different community but also very badly affected, San Pablo, and again seek to help them in whatever way we can. (rations are being prepared as we blog)

To end, I very sincerely ask your support, spiritual or material, whatever form that may take.