Three in a Million - Voices from the Haitian Camps (http://www.commondreams.org/view/2010/02/19)
by Bill Quigley
February 19, 2010
The United Nations reported there are 1.2 million
people living in "spontaneous settlements" or homeless
camps around Port au Prince. Three people living in the
camps spoke with this author this week, before the hard
rains hit.
Jean Dora, 71
My name is Jean Dora. I was born in 1939. I live in a
plaza in front of St. Pierre's church in Petionville
[outside of Port au Prince]. I am here with twelve
members of my family. We all lost our home.
We have a sheet of green plastic to shade us from the
sun. We put up some bed sheets around our space.
I have many small grandchildren living here with me. My
son and daughters live with here too.
My daughter will soon have a child. She will go to the
Red Cross tent when it is time for the baby to come.
I worked for the Chinese Embassy for 36 years. I
cleaned their offices. I retired in 2007. Until the
earthquake I lived in an apartment with my family. The
building was destroyed.
At night we put a piece of carpet down on the ground.
Then we lay covers down and try to sleep. When it
rains, the water comes in.
We bring bottles to fill up with water. But we have
very little food.
There is no toilet in the park. We must go behind the
church.
My son used to work to support us. He is a good chef.
He worked at a restaurant by the Hotel Montana. The
restaurant was destroyed. He lost his job. There is no
work.
During all my days, I have never seen anything like
this. I am not in a good position to say what will
happen next. I think things are not going to change. I
hope things will get better. But I don't think so.
My son has no job and he cannot help our family. If my
son is working, we can all stand up. If he is not
working, we are down.
The future is not clear. It looks dark for us.
Nadege Dora, 28
My name is Nadege Dora. I am 28. I have three boys and
one girl. I am supposed to deliver my baby this month.
I now live in the plaza in Petionville with the rest of
my family. Our house was destroyed. I used to sell
bread on the street to make a little money. The father
of the children does not help us. It is as if we are
not alive to him.
We are just trying to survive. No one in our family is
working. There is no work.
If you get a ticket you can go get a bag of rice. But I
am a pregnant woman. I cannot fight the crowds for a
ticket. I tried. But people were squashing me and I was
afraid I would get knocked down and crushed.
My niece helped a woman bring rice back from Delmas
[another neighborhood outside of Port au Prince]. She
shared her rice with us. Right now we still have some
rice. But we have no oil. No meat, no milk, nothing but
rice. We have no money to buy other ingredients.
Since the earthquake I have never eaten a full meal.
When my baby comes, I will go to the Red Cross tent to
have the baby. I went there to see a Doctor. They gave
me some pills. Those pills made me sick.
The mayor came here and asked people if we had
relatives in the countryside. They would help us go
there. But we do not want to go to the countryside. We
don't know anybody in the countryside. We need to have
a better life than this.
Garry Philippe, 47
My name is Garry Philippe. I am 47. I live by the
airport entrance. I built my own tent. I tied a sheet
to a tree and I put up poles to hold up other sheets.
I live here with my five children. My wife was killed
in our house in the incident. We lived in Village
Solidarity. I owned our house. I built our house over 4
years, step by step, as I got the money. I was outside
when it happened. My girls were by the front door and
ran out. My wife ran back to help the boys and she
died.
We had no funeral for my wife because we have no money
for a funeral. I buried her myself in a cemetery by
Cite Soleil.
The children cannot imagine that their mother is gone
just like that. They are always thinking about their
mother.
We do not have beds. When it is time to sleep we put
bags on the ground. Then we put our covers on the bags
and sleep.
We wash ourselves by putting water in a bottle. Then we
stand in a pot and pour the water on our selves.
When it rained we went to a place where they had a
plastic tent. We stayed there till the rain stopped.
More than 20 people were inside that tent.
Before, I was a mechanic in a garage. Where I worked
was destroyed. There is no work since the quake.
We heard other camps got bags of rice. In our camp,
nothing. I ask friends for food. Sometimes someone will
give us something to eat.
We have no toilet in this camp. When we have to make a
toilet, we do it in a bag. Then we bring the bag to the
edge of the camp. It is about a one minute walk away.
We see the trucks going in and out of the airport. Many
trucks. But the trucks never stop for us.
It is not safe here. But what can I do? I accept it, it
is God's work. We pray in the camp together.
No one has come to talk to us to tell us what is going
on. We know nothing about tents or tarps. There is no
school for the children.
I cannot tell you exactly what is going to happen next.
I am not the Lord. I think it is going to get worse for
us in the camps. We need tents and food. We need water
and school and jobs. We need help to find a place to
stay. The rain is coming soon. Water is going to come
and our babies will lose their lives.
Bill is legal director at the Center for Constitutional
rights and a long time human rights advocate. This
article was written with the assistance of Vladimir
Laguerre in Port au Prince. You can contact Bill at
quigley77(AT)gmail.com (
[email protected]).