First Day Impressions of Port au Prince

by Megan Cavanaugh

February 9th 2010

I woke up last night to a cat pawing at my head through the mesh of my tent. Better than the way Mary Lou woke up- hearing the roar and buzz of huge cargo planes and all the nuts dropping from the trees thinking we were experiencing an aftershock. She told me she got out of her tent thinking " if this is an earthquake I want to SEE it." I agree. I will admit to curiousity, though I would definitely not say I WANT to experience an aftershock. We are told that there was one today late in the afternoon in Petionville, and that it was small and people are ok. We did not feel it at all, though the electricity flickered for a while.

Everyone else woke up when the Baptist preacher started mass at 6 am. It is usually held in the church across the way, now held in the street. I asked Papito what he was yelling so angrily about to his congregation- apparently he was telling them Haitians are being punished by God because they have lost their way. This makes me angry. Haitians, I know are the most God loving and selfless people I know. And despite the poverty and distress they go through, they continue to praise God and love him and believe in him unfailingly. How many of us have had our faith tested that way I wonder. I don't think I ever have. And the dialogue I always have with God when I come to Haiti begins again.

This morning we gathered as a group underneath what is usually a garage but has become an outdoor living room. The staff here at Walls have been gathering the furniture from the wreckage and digging it out of concrete over the last week. It is odd to see the table we usually have group meetings at now sitting intact outside on the driveway... when we arrived only a few pieces of its oval shape were here. Tonight when we returned from work it was almost complete. So we had a breakfast of peanut butter and bagels we had brought with us at our table. Off in the tap tap and down the bumpy dusty streets to La Plaine, an area of Cite Soleil where we worked for the day. In the traffic of the morning it takes about 45 minutes. But we discuss that traffic is probably a good thing- it means people are moving about, doing things, traveling and hopefully- working.

Jim spoke to our experience working today so I will not, suffice to say we are already seeing the detrimental effects of people living outside and so close together without sanitation. People with high fevers of 105-107 and diarrhea. A lot of what I suspect, but can not confirm, is malaria. So we treat for malaria. We work in Abner's school building, in rooms they have cleaned of rubble and fallen concrete for us. We have a makeshift pharmacy we set up. Simple chairs to sit and see patients in. It was a good but frustrating day; frustrating because you think of all the tools and medications you have available at home that you are aching for because you can not help someone the way they deserve to be helped. But I think we make a difference. We saw about 60 people today, between three providers with translation taking a lot of time I think that is a success. I saw about 17 myself, and the first case was undoubtedly pneumonia. The second I'm fairly certain malaria. Hopefully not typhoid. It gets insanely dripping sweaty hot around 1:30 in the afternoon. We come home in our tap tap about 4 pm. Stop at a local market. I go into my first Port au Prince mini market and am actually pretty surprised by the array of goods considering all that has gone on here. I take a nervous glance at the on huge crack through the ceiling of the super market. I do my usual- if there was an aftershock right now what would I do? But I'm starting to worry about it a lot less.

We sip cold coca colas, well earned I think, in the back of the tap tap on the way back to Walls. I look around at the markets on the side of the road and amazed by the fact, and encouraged by the fact, that life is starting to go on here. A Haitian friend points out the fact that yes, life is going on, even though bodies still need to be recovered by the rubble. But people need to eat, and so they continue to work- or at least try to. Employment is hard to come by. Poor people here used to live day to day here for the most part, on about a dollar. Now I think they live hour to hour.

We get home and enjoy the cool evening air. We eat a meal of spaghetti with hot dogs, a pretty traditional Haitian meal. We talk about human rights and the UN in Haiti and debate the good and bad of their presence. We talk about our patients and how most of them will be sleeping under the open sky tonight, trying to fight off the same mosquitoes that gave them malaria. Sometimes you do honestly wonder if you make enough of a difference.

After dinner we all shower- and I can tell you this is one of the BEST feelings after a hot sweaty day here. You can actually FEEL the heat, dust and sweat come off your body. I sit down to read some of the book I brought and just as I am thinking about how this is my absolutely favorite part of the day here- the cool evening air after a hard days work- singing begins, strong and beautiful in the street. A Catholic mass is being held just over the wall. People sing as one, praising God and being thankful for all they have. (All they have?! I think initially- but someone points out- yes they have life and that is something to be thankful for). They come together in the street, not caring that their church has become a pile of concrete, they just want to be together and pray and sing. Beautiful singing! It honestly does my heart a world of good to hear, Haiti is still alive and as strong as ever. They just need some help.

Another day of work tomorrow. Looking forward to it. Bon nuit.


~ Megan