Haiti: Tent Camps

I went to post-earthquake Haiti expecting to see many damaged or destroyed buildings, piles of debris still awaiting clearing more than 1 year later, broken streets and infrastructure needing public investment. I saw some of that, but much less than I'd expected. Instead, I saw a city laid out along a beautiful sea coast, with myriads of shops lined along the main streets and side streets, flourishing street markets in every block, crazy traffic and traffic jams with everyone driving with horn, colorfully painted ancient buses jam-packed with people. In short, much the same thing I've seen in other capital cities I've been to in Nepal, India, Mongolia, Zambia, Ethiopia.

And then my eye focused on a distinctive difference: tent camps. Everywhere. On any and every piece of (formerly) open land in the city, even on the outskirts of town, or across from the international airport. I seriously doubt there is any open green space in today's PAP. It's filled with people living in their tents.

My image of tent camps was formed in my (mercifully) brief Boy Scout career--campgrounds, lakes, woods, space. PAP tent camps are the antithesis of this. They are packed, lacking in any sanitation except possibly porta-potties, no organization, no trash pickup, etc. (One notable exception is Grace's tent camp, which does have central bathroom and bathing facilities, organized trash collection, the rudiments of self-government, and self-run security.)

One dimension of the tent camps is their sheer size. I was told that shortly after the quake, there were perhaps 1.2 million people in PAP tent camps. There were approximately 2.3 million people in the PAP metropolitan area, meaning about 50% of the population was in tent camps after the quake. We were told that today, about 660,000 remain in tent camps--25% of the population. I'm trying to imagine if 1/4 of Cary, or Chicago, or New York were crowded together onto our parks and any other vacant land and living there, still, more than a year after the quake. I can't imagine this.

And then there's the density. I did the math for Grace's tent village--40 square feet, total, per person presently. But that's just a number. I walked through the Grace village, fairly quickly, but the overwhelming sense is claustrophobic, especially for someone like me who doesn't like crowds. I'd last about 2 hours in a tent city--I can't even be in a mall much longer!

And the physical realities. Tents are not solid--tops leak during the regular hard rains, water flows under the floor as it surges through the narrow paths of the camps. During my week there, it rained--hard--for a period almost every day. If during the day, you get soaked. If at night, you get soaked and also get no sleep.

And the social aspects. The quake was (mostly) equal opportunity--it didn't ask whether you had lots or little or no money. It just shook and destroyed. People who had houses and had risen above the abject poverty of Haiti had their houses destroyed. Others who had nice shacks (no, that's not an oxymoron--there are gradations of shacks) did so, too. And of course, the thousands who lived in abject poverty before the quake also lost the little they had. Now, those people are thrown together into very tight living conditions. Just when you might have thought you had gotten out of the poverty trap, and removed your family from the humiliating conditions, you find yourselves back with very little, side-by-side with others.

And the psychological dimensions. The capacity for hope keeps us going. In the early days/weeks, the tent camps were a life-saver, in many respects. But you knew they were temporary. As weeks turn into months turn into more than a year, anyone able to escape the camp has surely done so. Even in New Orleans, we were able to evacuate the Superdome and Convention Center within a month or less. Yet maybe 650,000 remain today, more than a year later.

Tent camps are the central reality of post-quake PAP. As I follow developments there in the months ahead, I will do so through the prism of tent camps. Until or unless a government or NGO plan addresses them, it is merely empty words and tinkling cymbals.