A group of CARE staff and journalists -- 12 of us in all, landed in the city of Puerto Plata in the northern coast of the Dominican Republic early this afternoon. We were welcomed as tourists by a steel drum band, scantily clad dancers and free cocktails. It was a surreal experience.
Shortly, we all boarded a bus, which is taking us on the first leg of our eight hour journey over land to reach the Haitian capital of Port-au-Prince. By all accounts, the scene will change dramatically once we cross the border. The lush green hills and gentle rain we see through our windows will give way to the harsh, deforested landscape of Haiti.
Even before the earthquake, Haitians lived in desperately poor circumstances; 80 percent of Haitians survive on less than $2 a day. I can scarcely imagine what it will be like now.
One of the ironies in this disaster is that CARE’s offices in Gonaïves are serving as an information hub because the conditions are so much better there than in the capital. Gonaïves was a wasteland in the aftermath of the Tropical Storm Jeanne. That was 2004, which also was the last time I visited Haiti and, now, it is a comparative oasis of calm and order -- proof that cities can be reborn and that places of disaster can become home to people once again. One of my companions on the bus said, “When we cross the border, it will be like going from heaven to hell.”
Communication is so difficult that the only contact with our colleagues in Port-au-Prince has been through text messages. The needs of survivors are overwhelming. Most immediately clean water, food and medical care.
Our Haitian colleagues are working around the clock because of the enormous task of meeting these needs. I can only hope that whatever small help I can offer will at least bring some hope.
