The earthquake hit us at about 4:45 in the afternoon on Jan. 12. I was in my office at the MINUSTAH (United Nations Stabilization Effort in Haiti) Headquarters, where I work as a United Nations officer in Maritime Operations, when I heard a dull rumble. The building moved violently as I struggled to get my footing. My desk lurched a meter in one direction, and then a meter in another. A file cabinet had shifted in front the door, blocking our exit. With the help of another UN officer, I moved the cabinet and stepped out into the hallway.
The main part of the building—the old Christopher Hotel—had collapsed, sending dust and debris down the hallway and blocking the only normal egress from the building. Together with a French officer, we cleared the floor, escorting people to a window with a landing, where others outside helped them to the ground.
An officer from Argentina and I then found an extension ladder, and together we managed to evacuate about another 30 people on the floor above us to safety. They were, of course, very scared – hell, I was scared. We simply spoke to them to calm them, and guided them down the ladder.
After clearing these evacuees, I began walking around the building to attempt to understand what had actually happened. The answer was all too clear when I encountered about 200 people still trapped inside the building, covered in cement dust. Most were stunned, shocked. Many were badly injured, but luckily many of us survived. I saw many Haitian nationals who work with us, and whom I had befriended. They were hurt; they had lost their homes and loved ones; and yet, they were so happy to see me. I was struck by such selfless behavior. Imagine: they lost everything, but they were content just to see that I was ok.
Over the next two to three days, the bodies of the dead were brought out to the street and laid on the sidewalk. Some were covered, some not; survivors just didn’t know what to do, as many of these bodies were family and loved ones. The tennis court outside of the hotel served as our only refuge; we had little choice, as the damage incurred by the hotel itself left it uninhabitable. Each day, the other officers and I returned to sleep for a couple of hours before driving back through the destruction and sadness.
Since the earthquake I have been assigned as a liaison to the Joint Task Force sent by the United States to support humanitarian assistance and disaster relief activities. MINUSTAH provides security for the UN World Food Programme (WFP) and Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs) and supplies direct aid to those impacted by the events of Jan.12.
Just over one month later, I finally have a place to sleep and take a shower. The massive infusion of aid has provided food and shelters for tens of thousands of survivors. The WFP launched a remarkable effort to feed two million people in 14 days: at Day 6, we fed well over half a million people, averaging a little over than 100,000 survivors each day. The operation ended on Feb. 13, having reached more than 2.2 million people. An additional six-day phase was added on Feb. 14 with a focus on providing aid to children and pregnant or lactating women. There is still plenty of food to distribute to those in need.
The food provided is expected to feed a small family for one to two weeks. It is delivered at 16 strategic locations called Distribution Points. The WFP issues color-coded food coupons, through local elected leadership, almost exclusively to women and children. This provides a higher degree of assurance that the food will stay in the family. Sadly, some of the food that was initially distributed was turned around and sold by many of the men.
I met a young man here when I first jointed the MINUSTAH mission in July 2007, as part of a six-month assignment. Joseph was orphaned at birth, but now, at 25, had found two of his brothers and a sister. He had a small home, and cared for his family, specifically one brother who had tuberculosis.
I heard from Joseph three days after the earthquake. He was in Dominican Republic. He lost all of his known family when his house collapsed.
“I guess I’ll just have to start all over again,” he said. “I’ll be okay.”
This is almost typical of the people here who have suffered so much.
Leave a Reply