Like the country itself, Burial Road stretches between those who have everything and those with nothing. Even modest funeral parlors offer elaborate services starting at $1,100 \u2014 far beyond the means of most Haitians, who live on $2 a day or less.<\/p>\n
No matter how rich in love they may be, most people can\u2019t pay those fees. And so, the bodies of their sons and mothers wait here so long that their faces melt, their skin unravels. They are stacked one atop another in gruesome, wet piles that resemble medieval paintings of purgatory.<\/p>\n
The men who have finally come to their rescue aren\u2019t friends or relatives. They don\u2019t know their individual stories. But they recognize poverty.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey didn\u2019t have a chance,\u201d says Rapha\u00ebl Louigene, the burial team\u2019s stocky, soft-spoken leader. \u201cThey spent their lives in misery, they died in misery.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mr. Louigene and the other men work for the St. Luke Foundation for Haiti, a charitable organization started in 2000 to help the country\u2019s poorest. <\/p>\n
Read it all<\/a>.<\/p>\n Haiti: The Heroes of Burial Road @riotta<\/a> @radio3mondo<\/a> https:\/\/t.co\/efvwFwkc2m<\/a> via @nytimes<\/a><\/p>\n — A. Cafasso Vitale (@Alcavi) December 14, 2017<\/a><\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n