On to Port au Prince

by Megan Cavanaugh

This is the building we usually sleep in at the guest house of Walls, a huge pile of twisted metal and crumbs of concrete.

Our home for a few nights, set up in the driveway at Walls.

More tents at Walls.

We spent the rest of last night sorting an resorting our bags of medication and supplies in Papito's and Rhodie's apartment, trying to predict what we would see and how much. Then we all realized how exhausted we were, showered and slept. Up early and in a taxi with all our baggage to the bus depot. Papito picked up the tickets we reserved. Chaos and jostling to get bags on board.


Mary Lou and I sat next to the bathroom. I promised not to complain at all on this trip so I will just reiterate- on a 7 hour bus trip with 50 people we sat next to the bathroom. But really the ride was easy and smooth compared to what I had mentally prepared myself for. But if you are imagining a highway like we have at home... This is narrow roads, sharp turns, massive pot holes, many quick stops and oddly- many many speed bumps. People sit by the speed bumps trying to sell various goods because they realize that people will have to slow down and check out the goods as they go by.

My first trip through Dominican customs, at the southern border, Jimani, was easy enough. Thank goodness for Papito who is a pro and trilingual. We enter the city through cois de bouquet, which I am misspelling. We comment how normal everything looks. I am trying to prepare myself.

And then my jaw drops at the amazing cracks through solid concrete buildings and homes where the front of the house simply slid off. We drive by the airport- on one side there are tents of various shapes and sizes, some makeshift homes, as far as I can see. We get to the rotary of the aiport and there are masses of people. We all know this is one of the spots the world food program is delivering aid so the huge crowds make sense. I see the huge new us embassy as we step off the bus into the hot hot sun. Dirt parking lot, familiar smells of port au prince- charcoal and sea air and diesel and something new I can't place but makes me a little sad, as if it's a metaphor for the sad change that's occured here.

We try to say hi at the us embassy and check in but the marines wave us away with a smile and just tell us its not necessary- but that if we have trouble to contact them because they are there. One of them in his dark glasses makes me promise we arent going to try to sneak any kids across the border while here. I laugh and say no, what a sad mess that situation is. Veniel, the manager at Walls guest house where we are staying in Port au Prince, has sent a big truck to pick us up. A stranger approaches and just asks : "Walls?" and we all smile and say "wi!" and start loading up the truck . More collapsed homes and buildings. Some perfectly fine, such a sharp contrast.

People tell us about the earthquake-it was not the ground shaking left to right as you would imagine. It was the ground moving up and down- almost like huge waves rolling underneath. Someone says that at one point a small tree outside was thrown as high in the air as an electric pole. I can't imagine it, but we begin to see the damage everywhere. Help me spray painted on walls, we need aid written on cardboard. Orange x's mark where rescue teams went through. We arrive at walls, three beeps and the armed guard opens the steel gate as always.

I am in shock, my heart jarred by the enormous pile of rubble that stands in the place of the huge building that normally houses us and the many guests that stay- from other ngo's or international couples working to adopt a child . I hike up the huge pile of rubble and look down through one of the sheets of concrete and see the tables we all usually eat at, communal style. They are flattened onto the ground. I can't even recognize anything else. 5 people died here. Two staff and three guests. They have already dug out the bodies. I think about how many times I've slept peacefully in the building that collapased. Destroyed, totally.

But Veniel is amazing and resourceful and one of the buildings was spared, though not safe to sleep in. No one sleeps inside still, everyone sleeps outside, in the street or in their yards. We put up our tents. We are happy and surprised that there is running water and fairly constant electricity, a miracle even pre-quake in Haiti. We are surprised we are the only foreigners staying here, except for a single woman working on education in Cite Soleil. We chat, I ask her about what she has seen.

Food and water are still hard to get- especially for women with small children and the elderly who cant fight for it. Calls and emails go out to home- we are all here and safe. We pack ourselves into the back of a tap tap and travel 20 minutes to a fast food joint. It is bright and clean and full of people and food. It is surreal to see considering what is on either side of it. We eat burgers and fries- a new experience to me in Haiti. We don't linger as Abner points out- we should not hang out in buildings when there are still tremors occuring. I'd momentarily forgotten.

Back to Walls. We have a meeting by the light of our mini battery powered lantern to try to plan tomorrows clinic but come to the conclusion that it is impossible to plan more than a few hours ahead. This is Haiti after all. Go with the flow. I crawl into my tent ready to sleep but first I glance around to make sure there is nothing that might fall on me in the middle of the night, should an aftershock occur. The electricity has shut off. The generator hums. Tons of dogs barking. More to come. Gotta sleep. Long day working tomorrow. Thanks for reading. -Megan