JANUARY 29, 2010

The sound of sweeping is covered by hammering as Haitians start to rebuild their lives.

Yesterday was hot. Will Pavia and I went in search of people preparing their new accommodation in a camp that sleeps 20,000 homeless people. Sweat dribbled down their faces as they tied cotton sheets to reclaimed timbers. A modicum of protection from the sun but no protection from the rains that will come in March and April. By June the hurricane season will be here and no one knows what will happen then. Some are lucky enough to have acquired plastic sheeting and tarpaulin. Their faith in God is unbreakable and they know that their fate is in His hands.

Haitian people who have lost their homes, queueing at a medical clinic at Diquiny camp in the Carrefour district of the city.  Click to enlarge  (Ben Gurr/The Times)

The children are a good starting point when taking pictures in these camps, they take great delight in seeing their image on the digital camera’s monitor. They want to talk but I don’t speak French or Creole so conversation can be impossible or very slow.

Haitian children playing with a broken pair of glasses at Diquiny camp.  Click to enlarge  (Ben Gurr/The Times)

Our next mission is to find the location for a massive longer-term camp being set up by the UN on the outskirts of the city. We come across a likely area baked hot by the sun, dead, desert dry and exposed to the wind. A hideous hell in which to live. The proposal is to have the IDP’s (internally displaced people) build permanent homes at the work camps in exchange for food and water.

A flat plot of land about five miles outside the centre of Port au Prince that may become a massive camp for people made homeless by the earthquake.  Click to enlarge (Ben Gurr/The Times)

I try to record some of the scenes I see from our moving vehicle and have to react fast. There is a sense of life returning to normality.

A Haitian woman cooking beans outside her make shift shelter at Diquiny camp.  Click to enlarge (Ben Gurr/The Times)

Our driver’s name is Lesly but we have nicknamed him Goodjob because after each successful mission he turns to each of us in the car in a cheery creole accent and with a beaming smile says: ”GOOD JOB”! He negotiates our tiny soft-top jeep around, and sometimes through, the endless potholes in the broken roads. I am working with Martin Fletcher now and we stop off for much needed drinks at Lesly’s home which was barely touched by the earthquake – just a few cracks here and there.

A Haitian woman carrying provisions to her make shift shelter. Click to enlarge (Ben Gurr/The Times)

For one US dollar each we became an unusual sight at a cock fight. Men only, women don’t come, bring their best fighting fowl to battle with their neighbour’s birds. It is a way for them to forget the misery surrounding them and a chance to make or lose some cash. It’s unlit and dark and photography is tricky. Two birds fight bouts of about ten minutes, pecking and scratching at each other, until the judge declares a winner. The blood soaked loser looks dead but it’s not and after being washed is left gasping for breath on the dusty floor. It will fight another day.

Haitians take their minds off their problems by participating in the national sport of cock fighting Click to enlarge (Ben Gurr/The Times)