Despair, Desperation, and Distrust in Haiti Following Earthquake

The situation following yet another disaster in the country dubbed “poorest in the western hemisphere” is grim, even by Haitian standards.

Washington Post:

In the Western Hemisphere’s poorest nation — one worn down by repeated natural and man-made disasters — the list of broken infrastructure and housing is an omen of new hardship ahead. In the rural southern peninsula, which is already cut off from the capital by the violent gangs that control the roads, tens of thousands of homes and buildings are in ruins.

Broken tombs destroyed from the earthquake lie along National Route 7 on Thursday in Camp-Perrin, Haiti. (Joshua Lott/The Washington Post)
Among them: 24 health-care facilities, including four that were obliterated and some that serve as the only hospital within a several hour drive. At least 287 private and public schools were damaged or destroyed. A key bridge in Jérémie is buckling, threatening to isolate thousands. Sections of road — including a recently paved highway that took more than a decade to build — have been split, chunks of them broken off.

Just as it did in 2010 after a more deadly earthquake — and in 2016, when Hurricane Matthew pummeled the same southern communities stricken by the quake now — Haiti is looking to the international community for help.

But that hasn’t worked out well in the past.

Last week’s quake reopened old wounds from the 2010 temblor that struck closer to the densely populated capital and killed more than 220,000 people. Over $13 billion in aid was allocated by international agencies to respond to the disaster. But mismanagement, a disconnect with local reality and lack of organization led to mistakes that the Haitian government, international agencies and NGOs say they can’t afford to commit again.

Allegations emerged that some aid groups raised money on the back of Haitian suffering while using relatively little of the funds on the ground. In 2016, the United Nations acknowledged its peacekeepers played a role in a post-quake cholera epidemic. In 2018, the charity Oxfam admitted that staff members had engaged in “sexual misconduct” with vulnerable earthquake victims.

Joel Charny, a longtime humanitarian aid worker, described the international response in 2010 as “monstrous.”

“There was just so little respect and understanding of the Haitian people,” he said.

To avoid the mistakes of the past, the Haitian government is now requesting that aid flow through it, and aid groups say they are improving coordination to avoid overlap and address critical needs. But Haiti was already in the midst of a humanitarian crisis before the quake, and aid groups remain concerned about meeting needs in a country that now has so many.

Haiti buries a president, but it’s longer term crisis lives on

“While humanitarians are focusing on the immediate life saving response, longer term solutions to development deficits need to be addressed to support Haiti to build back better,” said Christian Cricboom, Haiti director for the U.N. Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs.

The Haitian government criticized international aid groups for widespread distribution of tents in 2010 — saying it led to sprawling tent cities that remained for years. Controversially, officials are asking aid organizations to refrain from large scale tent handouts now — a request aid agencies say they back.

People sit on top of a collapsed home in Camp-Perrin, Haiti, on Thursday. Thousands of homes and buildings, especially in the southern part of the country, were destroyed by the 7.2-magnitude earthquake that struck earlier this month. (Joshua Lott/The Washington Post)

People displaced from their homes have moved into tent encampments. After the mishandling of aid following Haiti’s last major earthquake in 2010, the government is requesting that fewer tents are donated. (Joshua Lott/The Washington Post)
But with hundreds of thousands of Haitians suddenly homeless across the south, there is less understanding in the streets. Distrust of local and national officials, who victims insist are corrupt and will spread distribute the aid for personal or political gain, is growing.

“How are we supposed to stay dry after our houses collapsed?” said Sylvia Herculus, 38, pointing to the bedsheets she strung up in a square in the hard hit city of L’Asile, 10 miles from the epicenter. Hundreds of residents who lost their homes are now squatting in the square, which has the feel of a refugee camp.

Not far from Herculus, a disabled man sat in the open in his underwear and a tank top, a sanitation bucket next to him. He struggled with palsied hands to shield his exposed body with a thin towel.

“We need tents!” Herculus said. “They say they will rebuild quickly. But we know they won’t.”