Amanda Weingarten didn't set out to be a hero. She wasn’t planning on changing lives. She certainly hadn’t anticipated hundreds of people looking to her for guidance. At least not that particular day.

But, when a call from the S.C. Department of Social Services was forwarded to the School of Languages, Cultures, and World Affairs’ dean’s offices late that Friday afternoon, she seemed destined to make a difference.

“There just happened to be a big rainstorm coming, so when DSS called the French department, no one was there, and it went to the dean’s office,” recalls the school’s development officer. “I just happened to be right there when the receptionist got the call asking for French speakers to translate for the Haitian families flying into Charleston that night – and I just happened to have no plans.”

It had been just over three weeks since the catastrophic earthquake in Haiti, and the Charleston International Airport had been designated a repatriation site for Haitian-American evacuees and relief workers.

“I knew that having someone to help with communication would put them at ease a little and make things a little less scary,” says Weingarten, who started speaking French as a toddler and spent two years studying in France. “Being able to express your needs and your emotions in your own language is so important, especially when you’ve been through the kind of devastation they’ve been through.”

And so she quickly joined the efforts, working 5- to 12-hour shifts between 10 p.m. and 10 a.m. throughout the month of February, when the airport received between two and five flights – each with 50–75 passengers – a night.

“It’s heartbreaking to see so many people suffering,” says Weingarten, who also collected sweatshirts for the evacuees. “I noticed they were coming off the planes in their sundresses and shorts, and they were freezing.”

Once in the airport, each family went through immigration and customs and got optional medical evaluations and psychological assistance before transportation to their destination was arranged and any other needs were addressed.

“I try to stay with the family through the entire process,” says Weingarten, adding that the process typically took about three hours. “It’s pretty grueling for them. I’m just there to make it easier. They’ve already been through enough hell.”

Indeed, many of the evacuees had lost not only everything they had, but everyone they knew – including their families. Such was the case of a 6-year-old boy whose parents had been killed in the earthquake.

“He started off very grumpy, violent. He was just very temperamental. But, by the end, he was all hugs and kisses,” says Weingarten, who worked with the boy for nearly eight hours before he boarded a plane for Ft. Lauderdale, where he would live with his aunt. Two days later, Weingarten got a call from the boy’s aunt, thanking her for everything she’d done. “Knowing that I’d helped make this nightmare a little better for someone – it motivated me and reminded me why I was there. It made it all worth it.”

Still, the despair the families have experienced – and will continue to experience – is a lot to absorb.

“I’m not really thinking about what I’m hearing and seeing. I’m scared that if I talk about the stories I hear and the heartbreak I see, I won’t be able to function – I don’t know that I’d be able to go in and get the job done,” she says. “I think I’m going to have to process it once it’s over.”

She has, however, begun to grasp the magnitude of this experience in both her own life and in the lives of countless others.

“It’s monumental,” says Weingarten. “This is probably the biggest impact I’ll have on the course of history.”