Haiti: Poverty & Earthquake Destruction Now Part Of Daily Life

Since I arrived in Haiti my trip has been nothing but eye opening and emotional. This is an experience that I will never forget.

The Arrival

As the American Airlines plane landed at the airport on Monday morning I could see the hundreds of tents that the US military had set up along the landing strip. Pallets of food and water wrapped in clear plastic stood next to the runway as Haitian airport workers sat by the cargo area watching the commotion taking place on their own land.

No one checked the papers of those arriving; my passport didn’t get stamped and neither Haitians or Americans greeted anyone. I stood by the side watching the groups of relief workers that had flown in with me. Some seemed thrilled to be there, others looked nervous.

I manage to catch a ride with a relief group into the city — the Miami Rescue Mission. These folks took me under their wing from the second I told them no one was waiting for me and had no place to go. The group of doctors and nurses saw me as one of their own even though my job was not to save lives, but to tell their stories.

At the gates of the airport was a white UN tank parked with blue helmet soldiers holding up their guns. US troops stood by the airport exit as well. We exited unto streets full of people that were walking back and forth, selling, begging, getting into pick up trucks. The walls along parts of the street had grafitti that read, “Help Us,” “We Need Food And Water.” It all seemed so unreal.

I didn’t see much destruction on my way to the heart of Port-au-Prince. I coulnd’t help but to stare out my window and look at my surroundings and at the people of Hiati — they were so calm, peaceful even, resigned to keep on living despite the great devastation just days before.

We got to the center of town, people were selling fruit, used shoes, and everything else along the muddy streets and stinky gutters. Children were often present, their bellies unusually inflated perhaps from worms and parasites. Everywhere I saw there was poverty.

The reliefs workers spent the night at a bakery in Petion Ville. We were given a huge loading area to put down our luggage and to sleep in. The place had electricity and running water. It was too good to be true. I was dying to take a shower, it had been a long trip from Los Angeles.

That night the doctors and nurses from the group went out to eat at a very nice restaurant near where we were staying, The Pizza Garden. The idea was to avoid eating the food from the streets, but being in such an elegant place made the experience even more surreal. While I sat there having dinner with prominent Miami surgeons and a high ranking government official from the Dominican Republic, I felt uncomfortable. How can it be that two different realities could exist in the middle of such devastation?

What Was Left Standing

Early in the morning on Tuesday the group split to go to different hospitals — some headed for the mountains, rural areas, and local hospitals in Port-au-Prince. I did some interviews for Free Speech Radio News then headed to see the affected areas.

My photo camera really can’t capture the intensity of a building or house that has collapsed. This 7.0 magnitude earthquake didn’t respect if you were rich or poor — nice and old homes were crushed all around Delmas. Sometimes the smell of the dead still trapped in the rubble made me want to vomit, I quickly covered my face with my t-shirt the moment the pungent smell hit the car.

There were people on the streets laying on the pavement with their children. Plastic blue tarps from the UN and UNICEF hang to cover their heads and some just used their own bed sheets as walls for shelter.

The poverty as well as the devastation by the earthquake were almost equally striking. This is a country of young people and I can see why no old people could ever survive such hardship. I felt for the children and the parents who have to do anything to survive here.

I didn’t see any looting anywhere, no one was getting violent either. Instead I saw people standing in long lines with containers of all sizes waiting for water. Many more stood in line to the counters of the Western Unions and other money transfer stores. The heat and humidity didn’t make things any easier on them.

After a whole day of driving around I went back to the bakery to rest. I was not sure of what I was feeling, but I knew that I was in the right place. Less than 24 hours since I had arrived in Haiti, I was in love with this country and its people.

Where Is The Help?

As I fell asleep on Tuesday night, I tried to count how many UN and US vehicles I had seen. The tally: 7 or 8 UN vehicles; 1 for the US.

I kept thinking of the great show the American government likes to play for the media. The big power players promised so much help, but there was so little action.

Haitians looked at me with wondering eyes where ever I went. That night I re-played in my head the memory of a young Haitian girl, perhaps 8 or 9-years old who was sitting on the sidewalk selling lemons and who told me that I had just taken her picture, but that I had not given her any food. I felt useless.

On Wednesday, I worked on a story for Free Speech Radio News about a woman who had started a care center for children with special needs. Her home had been badly damaged and she had no choice but to move the children to a house in the country side where the disabled kids slept in the backyard.

I had also visited a tent city in Delmas where 800 survivors were packed in less than an acre of land with only 80 tents. I interviewed a Haitian pediatrician who had been at the site caring for the children and adults since the earthquake hit. She looked stressed out, hard and cold. I felt that I was coming to take from her instead of give to her as I held that microphone.

The need at that tent city was great, I could see the anguish in adults and children, the hunger, thirst and their fear. I asked the pediatrician if she had received any help from the US military or a relief organization, “No. I haven’t seen them,” she said.

Dolores M. Bernal will continue to write about her trip to Haiti for the News Junkie Post during her stay there.

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