Henri Ford - Professor of Surgery, Son of Haiti

Sunset Boulevard is worlds away from the spine jarring road between Cap Haitian and Milot. Yet, as I moved slowly toward Children’s Hospital of LA, I recognized that those two worlds would coalesce soon.

Parking in the garage, I took the brightly painted Giraffe elevators to the 8th floor and the department of Pediatric Surgery. There were many familiar names of colleagues with whom I’ve shared lab results and meals at various academic surgical meetings. The Chief of Surgery is one such colleague, Dr. Henri Ford.


I’ve known Henri for more than a decade, as our paths crossed at meetings and other groups. He was the President of a major surgical society and always projected a calm confidence and humility. I knew he was from the Caribbean, but it wasn’t until after the earthquake, that I realized his roots were in Port au Prince. I asked him if I could stop over, not to talk about recruitments and academic politics, but rather about Haiti. He readily agreed.

Henri’s father was both an AME minister and director of immigration in the government. His spiritual core, compelled him to speak out on occasion and this led to a visit from the Tonton Macoutes. Realizing that future opportunities for his family would be limited, he moved them to Brooklyn, where there were some relatives. Henri was 14, and spoke no English. His parents made it clear that English was to become his first language, and he spent many nights struggling through standard high school English texts. During summer school, he met a tutor who was a junior at Princeton. Seeing Henri’s determination and drive she encourage him to apply.

He was admitted with a full scholarship.

Rather than rest on this accomplishment, he continued to accel and fulfill the expectations for himself and his family. Harvard Medical School, residencies in General and then Pediatric Surgery, followed by a stellar academic career in Pittsburgh and now Los Angeles. But he never forgot his roots.


Henri travels back to Port several times a year. He led a group immediately after the quake and you may have seen him with Dr. Sanjay Gupta of CNN, working in primitive conditions. As Haiti moves beyond the one year anniversary, Henri continues to be involved in organizing medical care and working for stability.

We talked of our various experiences and the frustration of not being able to provide even basic levels of care. He shook his head telling me of finishing somewhat advanced neonatal surgery, only to have the child die when he left. We talked of the “Haitian Diaspora” where well intentioned and committed practitioners become frustrated and leave for other countries. I’ve spoken of Jerry Bernard, who learned laparoscopy in the states, but does not have the equipment in Milot. He is staying, as is his internist wife, but I’m afraid they are the exception.

Aid will not flow to Haiti until the government stabilizes and faith is restored. In an ideal situation, 9 regional hospitals will be built, one in each district, and residency programs will train the next generation of providers. Haiti can learn from its successful island neighbor, the Dominican Republic.

But after all the theoretical talk, and the hopes, we both concluded that it will be a long haul. Why do we keep pouring our souls into what seems like an endless hole? Henri was quiet for a moment, then softly said, “Until I returned to Haiti, I didn’t know my raison d’être” I nodded.

In that small office overlooking the Hollywood Hills, two middle aged academic surgeons, successful by many external measures, shared a moment of what they both knew was truly important. And despite the challenges, they will return to Haiti, do what they can, and carry on with faith for the future.

Beauty in a Time of Chaos

On the way to work today, I was listening to NPR discussing the current unrest in Egypt. Apparently, some of the intensity has died down, but there has sprung up a large tent city in the middle of downtown. Protests continue, but people are also finding other ways to channel their energy.

They are making art from the trash that has been discarded by the thousands of people that gathered.

I couldn’t find pictures on line, but the descriptions are pretty uplifting. One young man fashioned a plane from plastic cups and rags. Asked what it represented, he said it was the way that Mubarak would be leaving the country. Others created Egyptian flags from scraps. They expressed their energy through creative development.
Even in the aftermath of the quake, the street leading to Hospital Sacre Coeur was awash with color. Although the vendors could be a bit aggressive at times, the art was remarkable. It celebrated the past, and the bright colors reflected the light with hope for the future. Even the brick wall, where the water supply faucet was mounted, was transformed into a street scene.
You express yourself where you can.

I was returning, and wanted to keep a small reminder with me of the people of Milot. One of the artists gave me this simple woven bracelet. The markings have faded with wear. Some of the pieces were local stones that otherwise sat on the roadside. It’s just string and stones, yet it is more. We all can look at an object, but feel the emotion that goes with it.

Trash is in the eyes of the beholder. Find inherent beauty and hope wherever you can.