In the oppressive heat and humidity of an evening at summer's end, a crowd gathered in downtown Montreal.
Hundreds, if not over a thousands, stood in the faint, warm drizzle, and let music and emotions raining over their ears and hearts. Before them, on a makeshift shift stage in the middle of a square, was the Orchestre Symphonique de Montreal (OSM) under the direction of Kent Nagano. His iconic long, wild greying hair danced as he gestured before the score of musicians, who together magically emitted the renowned melody that can calm even the most hardened and embittered souls. In the silence of darkness, the city seemed to come to a standstill, basking in the moving voice of soprano Marie-Jose Lord:
...Quand j’aurais chanté dix mille ans
My skin crawled as I watched the crowd sway and hum in unison. I too swayed and hummed with the crowd. There was an unspoken connection, for for the last two hours we have been united by music, by that universal language that spoke of fear, of joy, of hope and despair. Music that may have meant different things to different people, but standing there, bearing the uncertain mood swings of the sky, we shared a connection with the people of Haiti.
Dans Sa chorale des anges
Je n’aurai fait que commencer
À chanter ses louanges
De tous les dangers de la vie,
La grâce est mon abri...
There was a connection through the bonds of humanity and charity, one that transcended the distance, that broke through race and colour. Briefly, but even briefly can seem an eternity, people who have never met one another were brought together there and then listening to the same notes, same words that flowed on stage.
Seven months after the devastating earthquake, Haiti has almost completely disappeared from the news... pushed aside by the latest (foiled) terror attempts, by other disasters both natural and manmade, by the flamboyance and debauchery of celebrities.
But tonight, at OSM's season opening concert, music and poetry again reminded us of the plight of a people and country still shaken from the raw violence of nature. We, those standing on that square, may never be able to share the same sense of desperation and suffering of Haitians still waiting for clean water, food, basic medical supplies or a secure roof over their heads. But through the live broadcast that transmitted images and sounds from Montreal to Port-au-Prince, many Haitians could see from the crowd of people who have gathered and who have generously donated that they have not yet been forgotten.
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