The following blogs were written by Mildrede Beliard, CARE Haiti’s Communications Officer
January 11, 2011 - Today will never be worse than yesterday
January 11, 2011 - A shovel, a rake and another door
January 11, 2011 - Today will never be worse than yesterday
January 12, 2010 starts out like any other day at the beginning of the year: streets are full of children on their way to school, people going to work, street vendors, cars that fight over each inch of the road. We cross each other without seeing one another: too busy, too distracted.
The workday continues normally. We have had meetings all day to prepare our participation in the carnival which starts in two weeks. We eat, we laugh, we tease each other, carefree, easy, with no other concern than choosing the right outfit for the next day to impress our colleagues.
A few seconds make everything fall apart.
Each person will describe those seconds of horror differently but we all share this feeling of how the earth opened up beneath our feet. First, there was this noise. A cry of the earth as if it was howling and creaking from a pressure too strong. Then, nothing. Complete silence. And finally, like one single voice, the screams of horror, panic, disbelief, the suffering of a whole nation.
A cry that swells until it becomes unbearable as we see the horror and devastation. We cannot even see one meter ahead of us. A cloud of dust covers the city pitifully, as if it was giving us time to prepare ourselves for the unbelievable.
A girl, her arm shredded, blood spilled over her face, calls out for her mother before she collapses. A woman's body, her head exploded under a concrete block, frozen in a last reflex to escape death. Blood everywhere, torn bodies. We cross each other on the street, but this time, we recognize each other. Under the dust that covers us, we're all the same, brothers and sisters.
On 12 January 2010, Haitians found each other. United in horror, but also in survival. Like any creature who feels threatened, we embraced each other. No more social classes. Only men and women trying to console each other, drawing strength from comforting the person sitting in front of the rubble desperately waiting for a sign of life from a loved one who did not make it out.
A nation that desperately waits for a gesture, a sign, anything that would wake us up from this nightmare. A miracle perhaps? When you’re praying with all your strength and you firmly believe, your prayers will be heard. From all over the world came gestures of solidarity, from countries we didn’t even know existed. And even better than a miracle: helping hands, words of comfort and something to hold on to while we try to get back on our feet.
While some people would give anything to leave the country, others arrive to tell the rest of the world how much help is needed. People who have little, almost nothing, want to share. Every Haitian abroad looks for friends, relatives they lost sight of decades ago. Every Haitian in the country shares what little they have or don’t have with the other people who have only their lives left.
Rescuers from around the world put their lives at risk to continue the work begun by the Haitian people with only their arms as tools. We saw people who had lost everything report for duty and inquire about how to assist their brothers and sisters.
We have seen CARE’s staff going back home exhausted after a day of distribution, making their beds on the floor and waking up before sunrise the next morning. A way to give meaning to their lives, a way of showing their gratitude for having escaped death, a way of saying thank you to all those who, without even knowing us, have reached out. We have seen doctors walking through the streets from neighborhood to neighborhood, a megaphone in hand, offering free care to the wounded.
On January 12, 2010, Haiti has experienced the horror. But we also saw love, solidarity, compassion.
A year later, much remains to be done. Many streets are still littered with debris; houses partially destroyed continue to be a danger to those passing by. The spontaneous camps are now villages and every family seeks to build a more permanent shelter, a more solid structure to withstand the rains and winds.
A year later, thanks to the generosity of many people, mothers who gave birth in makeshift hospitals can put a roof over the heads of their children. However, children were forced to leave school and have no way to return: the costs are too high and their parents lost everything.
Reconstruction is slow and painful. In addition to physical space, we must also rebuild this nation. Teach a population that has lived of donations for the last months to regain their autonomy. Teach people who have seen their world crumbling down within a few seconds to believe in the future again.
And reconstruction is hampered by the odds against our nation. Cyclones, floods and now a cholera epidemic. There is so much to do that progress appears minimal. You offer cash for work to build a road to facilitate access to a remote area. With the money, the recipient can start a small business. He can feed his family but he will continue to live in a tent or a makeshift shelter because he cannot afford to rebuild his house or rent another one.
There is always more to do. Not only building a shelter but also latrines in the neighborhood which never even had such a facility before. Providing potable water. Ensuring that there is a medical clinic, a school where parents can send their children without ruining themselves paying for it.
There is so much more to reconstruction of Haiti than simply rebuilding destroyed houses! It is a long term commitment, an involvement of all sectors and actors – above all the population, which needs to be empowered to become more than just beneficiaries.
Deep wounds heal with difficulty but, despite crises and bad luck, we have faith in the future. We know that today will never be worse than yesterday because we are not alone.
January 11, 2011 - A shovel, a rake and another door
The first thing that catches the eye when arriving in Carrefour is a big shallow pit in the road surface. It is covered with stagnating water and all sorts of garbage. Fruits and vegetables are stockpiled on the ground in which seems like a makeshift improvised market. The road is framed by buildings on each side, most of them destroyed or hastily built back.
After the January 12 earthquake that destroyed a large part of the Haitian capital Port-au-Prince and its surroundings, the neighborhood of Carrefour has literally exploded with people. It had been overpopulated even before the disaster, but now, many people have come to seek shelter in the hillsides. Spontaneous settlements have sprung up in the middle of the main road, without any room to put in place latrines or manage waste disposal.
Photo: Mildrede BeliardEveryone here is very relieved that there was no major disease outbreak after the earthquake. “Ever since the first days, CARE teams have organized sensitization sessions and spread messages of body hygiene and environmental hygiene. This helped us prevent a sanitary catastrophe and an epidemic. “Dieulène St. Vildor is a mother and a grandmother. She lives with her family in the Camp Mon Repos. And she knows that diarrhea can kill a child within a few hours. Like many other women, she is an active member of a “mothers club” that has been established by CARE.
The mothers’ responsibility is to keep the camps clean. “We could not simply let our children live in this dirt. But at the same time, we weren’t able to use the little money we had to buy broomsticks and other cleaning devices. So we just did what we could. And our commitment surely inspired CARE to accompany us.”
What started as a hygiene promotion campaign has quickly turned into a project supporting the whole community. Following a request of Carrefour’s mayor, CARE set up an urban cash-for-work program. This initiative achieves two goals at the same time: The community can finally live in a clean environment and their salary helps injecting cash into the local economy.
Photo: Mildrede Beliard
Rose-Carmelle is only 18 years old, but since the doomed day in January, she is the head of her family. Her parents died during the earthquake and left her and her two younger sisters behind. Their uncle took them to live in his makeshift shelter and tries hard to feed an additional two mouths. But school is definitely out of reach these days: There is simply not enough money to pay the fees.
“I need only one more year to finish school. But my sisters have just started. They have to continue their education, no matter how high the costs. If I had not learnt how to read, they would not have chosen me as team leader for this project. And now I earn a bit more than the others. My parents would die for a second time if they knew that their daughters would remain illiterate.” Rose-Carmelle has everything worked out: “This money will not cover the school fees for all three of us. So I will temporarily interrupt my studies and start a small business of selling shoes.” She estimates that she has made enough money to allow her sisters to go to school for at least one more year. “I dream of studying medicine, but this will have to wait a little while.” That little while until the situation gets better. The little while until her uncle has found a job. The little while until the school fees can be paid out of their small wallets. That little while…
“I am optimistic, you know? I did not dare hoping to send my sisters to school. And then along comes CARE and starts this project and it opens another door. Who knows what lies ahead for me in the future?”
The cash-for-work project has provided 5,000 people in 39 camps in Carrefour with a temporary job and income. At the end, more than 1,000 m3 of waste had been removed. And the cleaning devices such as broomsticks, shovels and rakes were handed over to the project participants during a festive ceremony at the mayor’s office in Carrefour.