In Haiti, 'hoping for God to help' in earthquake's aftermath

Mar 7, 2010 — The Commercial Appeal

Tom Charlier

Mar. 7, 2010 (McClatchy-Tribune Regional News delivered by Newstex) -- The 2-year-old girl wore a pink Minnie Mouse dress, plastic flip-flops and a stare that could crumble concrete. Next to the makeshift shelter where she lived in a sprawling tent city, she gazed up at a visitor intently, silently as her grandmother spoke of making do without enough food.

In the three weeks since I returned from Haiti, I've thought often of that girl, whose name is Junia, and countless other children, wondering if they're healthy or even alive now. Given the conditions I saw, it's hard to be optimistic.

A 10-day visit to earthquake-shattered Haiti will do that to you -- leave you awash in images so grim and intense and otherworldly that it takes weeks to process it all. The experience reveals the vivid contrasts of a country that is both beautiful and wretched, and whose people are equally noble and kind, desperate and hopeless.

It is Friday, Feb. 5. Photographer Alan Spearman and I, along with a dozen or so other passengers, are cruising in a turboprop plane from the Turks and Caicos Islands to Haiti. We are on assignment to cover the work done by a surgical team from Le Bonheur Children's Medical Center at a Port-au-Prince hospital treating victims of the devastating Jan. 12 earthquake.

Quite suddenly, the turquoise waters of the Central Atlantic give way to a coastline guarded by towering green mountains. This sight, at once beautiful and forbidding, is our first look at Haiti, and to me it underscores just how unprepared we are.

Because we didn't get all the approvals necessary until about 24 hours before departing, the trip was hastily arranged. We had time to rush to the Health Department to get the recommended slate of shots -- for tetanus, typhoid, hepatitis A and B -- but most aspects of the trip remain uncertain. Since we can't fly into Port-au-Prince, the devastated capital, we must land in the city of Cap-Haitien and find a way across 150 miles of mountains and wilderness.

As a result, on this sunny Friday morning we are heading into a chaotic, devastated, non-English-speaking Third World nation with only the barest amounts of food and no solid provisions for clean water, shelter, transportation or translation services. Our only protection against malaria is mosquito repellent.

As if to add to the risks, we're each carrying $1,500 cash -- our only means of bartering in a place where credit card service is sketchy at best.

In preparing for the trip, everyone I talked to was leery of our plans. "Oh my God, be careful," was a typical response. But a Memphis woman who has traveled to Haiti for more than a decade put it best. After a five-second pause on the phone line, she said, "I think you're in for a big adventure."

Our introduction to Haiti begins in Cap-Haitien, a city of 80,000 on the northern coast.

The streets are chaotic, with people riding atop buses and women walking with baskets of fruit balanced on their heads. Children push wheelbarrows of sugar cane, while men tote blocks of ice to their refrigerator-less homes.

Foul-smelling water mingles with trash in the gutters. Small children silently hold their hands out to beg for food or money, and in front of the main cathedral, men gather to watch a cockfight. At the U.N. military compound, soldiers man a machine gun behind sandbags.

The rich irony here is that just across a mountainous peninsula from Cap-Haitien lies a place called Labadee, Royal Caribbean's (NYSE:RCL) "private paradise" for cruise-ship passengers, complete with luxurious beach and water park. Royal Caribbean's literature downplays Haiti references, noting instead that the resort is on the "north coast of Hispaniola."

Back in the real Haiti, Cap-Haitien is dirty, poor, chaotic and desperate. But compared to what we'll see in Port-au-Prince, it's somewhat of a paradise itself.

The highway leading out of Cap-Haitien makes a steady climb up one of the many mountains that cover almost the entire breadth of Haiti.

Through connections made at a Cap-Haitien hotel, we've hired a gregarious, enterprising Haitian named Marmontel Michel to be our driver, translator and all-around "fixer." He's in his early 30s and speaks fluent English to go with the Haitian Creole.

We've agreed to pay him, for 10 days' work, $1,500 -- roughly $200 more than the annual per-capita income of Haiti.

He's eminently worth it, though, for the prospect of novice foreigners driving through Haiti would be nothing less than a suicide mission. There are no roads worthy of the word; nor are there any enforceable traffic laws. The right-of-way goes to whoever can get there first, producing a free-for-all of drivers barking threats, admonishments and pleas in Creole. Pedestrians are virtually fair game.

"What happens if you run over someone?" I asked Marmontel at one point.

"You don't stop," he replied. "You keep going and go to a police station and bring a policeman back with you." Otherwise, pedestrians could "take revenge."

The trip over the mountains is winding, bumpy and arduous. We ascend through the clouds, passing breathtaking vistas and hamlets containing homes made of coconut leaves. Men can be seen hand-hewing huge logs into planks, while women peddle fresh bananas and chickens.

The only drawback is the dearth of trees. Haitians still cook with charcoal, which they make by burning hardwood slowly under a layer of sand. Over the years, they've cleared all but 2 percent to 3 percent of the country's original forest for fuel and shelter.

After descending from the mountains we are in dry scrub land -- almost desert, really -- dotted with cactus. Parts of the highway remain washed out from Hurricane Ike, which killed hundreds of Haitians two years ago, forcing us to bounce along a dry riverbed.

After passing through a banana plantation, we're rolling toward the outskirts of Port-au-Prince, where the first signs of earthquake damage -- and resulting chaos -- appear.

The tent cities we had heard so much about proliferate in the Port-au-Prince area, occupying flood plains, soccer fields, parks and any other open space. They are even more squalid, desperate and dispirited than we had imagined.

At a camp in the suburb Cite Soleil, large families huddle beneath bed linen propped up with sticks amid the dust, flies and heat.

On this first day of interviews we see evidence of the chronic poverty and malnutrition that afflicted Haiti long before the earthquake. Time after time, the children I've judged to be maybe 9 or 10 years old are revealed, in interviews, to be 16 or older.

One of the Le Bonheur team members later tells us he's noticed that about nine of 10 Haitians are anemic -- a condition that can be seen simply by pulling back the bottom eyelid and finding only white where a pink layer should exist.

We don't know what to expect, security-wise, in these camps. Unlike some of the television network teams, we have no guards or weapons.

But despite Haiti's reputation for lawlessness, kidnappings and political unrest, we encounter no trouble, although the arrival of two Americans invariably draws intensely interested crowds.

During one "welcome-to-Haiti" moment, Spearman pulled me aside and said, "Just so you know, that guy standing next to you has a machete." It seemed odd then, but after a few days we grew accustomed to seeing Haitians carrying machetes -- vitally important tools -- as nonchalantly as Americans tote cell phones.

After an hour or more of scouring the streets of Port-au-Prince, we finally locate Sacred Heart Hospital, where the Le Bonheur team is working.

From there, we follow the doctors' caravan, led by their security team, on an hour-long drive to a suburban compound that houses the Haiti Medical Missions of Memphis, which was established 13 years ago by Memphis physician Dr. Gordon Kraus.

At the facility, which is housed in a Catholic compound containing a seminary and retreat for priests, we are offered a spare dorm room with two beds, a fan and bathroom with shower. Compared to what we've seen, it feels luxurious.

Each morning, the nuns put out some breakfast items, including bread made by a priest, and in the evening, there is a dinner usually of beans and rice, pasta and sardines.

Haiti is more than 80 percent Christian and overwhelmingly Catholic. Everywhere we travel we are struck by Haitians' passionate religious fervor. Christian signs and Bible verses adorn billboards and vehicles, and loud, rousing church services are held throughout the week.

The people break into prayer seemingly without notice. Once, while I was transmitting a story at the hospital, where an Internet connection was available, an elderly woman nearby began singing a Creole prayer so fervently I feared she would become hysterical.

Time and again, we met people like Michel Jean-Philipe, a shotgun-toting security guard at a steakhouse. He lost his wife and home in the earthquake, leaving him with five children to care for alone. His plan? "I'm hoping for God to help me," he said.

At one point, I asked Marmontel about the controversial remarks made by American evangelist Pat Robertson, who suggested that the earthquake and other tragedies visited upon Haiti were punishment because the nation's founders "swore a pact to the devil" to gain independence from France.

He agreed with Robertson's version of the nation's founding. "That's true. That's what happened," he said, while not endorsing Robertson's assessment of a curse.

And as for Robertson's insistence that Haiti needs a "great turning to God," it's hard to imagine a more devout place.

During the days that follow, we are inundated in tragedy.

We visit more tent cities, see people sleeping in streets and venture through blocks that resemble photos of Stalingrad after World War II.

We follow a father on a long walk up a steep hill to retrieve his sick baby from a tent, then accompany him back to Sacred Heart.

On another occasion we see a woman sitting on a curb with a sick baby, whom she tries to give to Spearman and later to me.

We climb into an ominously tilted school building to confirm that the body of a ninth-grade girl still remains under rubble in a second-floor classroom. Bodies are everywhere, in fact. Untold numbers of the estimated 230,000 killed have yet to be recovered.

But worse than seeing the dead -- in my view, at least -- is witnessing the appalling conditions facing the living.

We see sick kids everywhere -- in the tent cities, at the mission compound and at Sacred Heart. In trying to track down kids from an orphanage who had been treated by the Le Bonheur team, we venture through shattered slums where a virtual open sewer flows past hovels and swarms of flies engulf our vehicle.

On our last evening working out of the hospital, a translator rushes in and exclaims that a baby has been brought in and "is about to die." Within minutes, the baby is dead -- probably from dehydration brought on by diarrhea -- and covered with a sheet in the emergency room.

Outside, the parents sit gazing out at the bustling courtyard area where other medical teams work. They look bewildered and stunned, and I'm glad that -- without Marmontel nearby or any other stories to write -- I have no reason to bother them for an interview.

It is Sunday, Feb. 14, and we have retraced the arduous drive from Port-au-Prince back to Cap-Haitien the previous day. Our flight out of Haiti is delayed by weather, and I take advantage of the extra time to buy Haitian rum at the airport shop.

Later that day, after connecting in the Turks and Caicos, we fly to Atlanta, then to a cold, snowy Memphis.

The "big adventure" we'd been told to expect is over.

The nightmare that is Haiti continues.

Contact Tom Charlier at 529-2572.

Le Bonheur Team Helps Haitians

* Monday, February 8, 2010 -- Dickson Jacques, 4 months, had severe diarrhea. He was brought to Sacred Heart Hospital barely alive and was badly dehydrated. An 8 person team from Le Bonheur Children's Medical Center assisted over 600 Haitians on their 13 day medical mission trip to Port-Au-Prince. Le Bonheur Chief of Critical Care, Dr. K.J.S. 'Sunny' Anand cared for the baby at the hospital. Flies in Haiti are able to reach and land on bodies still buried under debris. These flies are currently carrying disease all over Port-au-Prince.

* Saturday, February 13, 2010 -- Thousands gathered in front of the Haitian National Palace again Saturday for a weekend of prayer and healing one month after an earthquake killed over 200,000 people in Haiti. John Marco, 18, lifts his hand in prayer. All Haitians are still deeply impacted by this tragedy.

* Monday, February 8, 2010 -- Vanicile Jean Charles, 68, prays while waiting in the heat with several hundred other people seeking health assistance. She suffered broken legs in the earthquake.

* Tuesday, February 9, 2010 -- Evi Charles, 25, nurses her daughter Francia Blaize, 1, Tuesday. 1.5 million people are homeless and living outside as a result of the Haitian Earthquake. Many thousands more are predicted to die as a result of disease energized by the approaching rainy season. In Tapivert Camp located in Cite Soleil, Haiti, 3,480 people will be susceptible to disease and even forced to live in worse conditions when the dirt they live on will turn to mud. Their tents will be destroyed when the heavy rains come. Currently clean water and food are scarce. Typhoid and Cholera will certainly flourish in these camps.

* Monday, February 8, 2010 -- Evealine Methelus, 31, collapsed and became unconscious during a rehabilitation session for her amputated leg in Port-au-Prince. She lacks proper nourishment, hydration and is recovering from her surgery outside in the heat. Azor Marc Henry, her husband Norginale Urite, and physical therapist Matt Huish try to help her to regain consciousness with water, food and electrolytes. A Le Bonheur Children's Medical Center surgical response team of eight has been working constantly in Haiti since their arrival January 28th.

* Sunday, Feb. 7, 2010 -- Twenty-four-year-old Jeanny Fable scoops water out of the gutter to make the spot where her two children lay on the sidewalk clean in Port-au-Prince. Her husband died in the earthquake. Marie Jacinte, 52, tries to sell chickens. Sacred Heart Cathedral collapsed in the earthquake and is several blocks from where the LeBonheur Children's Medical Center doctors are working. Fable's children are sick. She was given medication for one child at Sacred Heart Hospital but could not read the instructions and did not know what to do with it. The doctors at the hospital generally have to use translators to communicate with the patients.

* Monday Feb. 8, 2010 -- Alan Spearman/The Commercial Appeal -- Memphis doctors KJS ' Sunny' Anand (chief of critical care at Le Bonheur Children's Medical Center) and Trey Eubanks (Le Bonheur general pediatric surgeon) triaged patients today at Sacred Heart Hospital in Port-au-Prince. Anand treats earthquake orphan Wood Williams ,6, as Christine Syl Vaint ,41, waits with her four- month-old son, Jeudi Benjamin. Furniture fell on him during the earthquake. The baby is vomiting, has diarrhea and fever.

* Tuesday, February 9, 2010 -- Photo by Alan Spearman. Wideline Jackin, 6, and Lovanise Jackin, 2, wait in the sun for their mother to come back with more water in the Tapivert camp in Cite Soleil, Haiti. The pink bowl in front of the kids contains their total food supply of rice, salt and a scallop size bit of pork. Doctors say the situation in Haiti will get significantly worse because the coming rainy season will help spread of horrible disease among many many thousands living in camps. We don't know this number. The tents will also be ruined in the monsoons.

* Saturday, Feb. 6, 2010 -- Photo by Alan Spearman. Derek Kelly, 34, a Campbell Clinic pediatric surgeon with Le Bonheur Children's Medical Center amputates Evaline Mathelus' leg Saturday at Sacred Heart Hospital in Port-au-Prince. Haiti. The 31-year-old woman's leg was severely injured in the earthquake and became infected to the point of endangering her life. A Le Bonheur surgical response team of eight has been working constantly in Haiti since their arrival January 28th.

* Tuesday, February 9, 2010 -- Hundreds of people got a 55-pound bag of rice per family today near the Port-Au-Prince airport in Haiti. Soldiers from the UN, Brazil and the United States provided security. This effort is part of a 14-day food surge by the World Vision organization.

* Tuesday, February 9, 2010 -- 3,480 people are currently living in the Tapivert camp in Cite Soleil, Haiti. Trash is burned around the exterior of the camp.

* See all

24 photos

at full size

Newstex ID: KRTB-0126-42646763