one month

(Posted late because I feel asleep typing it the first time!)

Today is Friday, 12th February. Today is a day of national mourning, national commemoration. People were on the streets from early this morning, white tops and black trousers or skirts, gathering in large crowds and singing to music blasted from 2m high speaker stands. This weekend will be one of reflection and prayer. Carnivale, supposedly starting on Monday, has been cancelled. 

***

Not last night, but the night before, it rained. I was only aware of it briefly as I faded into and out of consciousness, initially awoken by the cockerel next door who has a tendency to crow at 2am, 3am, 4am and 5am, as well as dawn and pretty much whenever the need strikes him. 

With near impeccably ironic timing, our first large-scale distribution of shelter items in Port-au-Prince was yesterday. We gave out plastic sheeting, hygiene kits, buckets for water and other items to people from communities in a district of Port-au-Prince. Over the previous few days, we identified who we were going to distribute to, and given each beneficiary a voucher. Inevitably, though, far more people came desperate for any handout that they might get. The vast majority of items we managed to give out to those we had identified, but as stocks were dwindling at the end our small team of volunteers from the community lost control of the crowd. We had to stop the distribution and leave the site, somewhat more swiftly than anyone ever likes to do, but plans for any distribution have to include escape routes. 

I saw this happen as well on Monday. I observed a distribution in the areas surrounding Leogane. The Canadian military volunteers security for distributions in that region, and had set up a cordon around the site. We were distributing to about 500 beneficiaries. The site we were using then was completely open, and as the orderly queue of beneficiaries with vouchers got shorter and shorter, our stocks got lower and lower. There was a second, ad-hoc queue of hopefuls which had about 1500 people in it. As the last kit was given out, the military released the cordon. Within about five seconds, we were surrounded by people picking up our discarded bags and plastic strapping that tie the bundles together for transport. The crowd was very good-natured, but it could easily have been different - without any form of shelter, aware that at any time now it will start raining, and in a month start raining heavily, and standing in the hot sun for several hours only to be left with nothing...

***

There was another noticeable aftershock this week. It was the fourth since I arrived, and the first I actually felt. Our security officer used it as a drill to train us to get out of the building if we feel one, but most of the people, including the few national staff who were around at that point, just treated it as an annoying interruption to work. 

Earthquake instructions for Haiti are different from other places, I understand. Because of the building materials (almost exclusively concrete) and the poor or non-existent building codes and standards, the first priority is to get out of the building. Getting under a table won't provide much protection if the ceiling collapses and a concrete slab weighing several tonnes falls.