The much discussed and fretted over rainy season has arrived in Haiti. No, you didn’t miss it—there hasn’t been an official hurricane yet, and all fingers are crossed that it does not arrive. But storms too small to be named, but big enough to tear down trees and tents and scatter rubble and garbage have been blowing through Port-au-Prince.
A couple weeks ago one such freak storm blew through the city, eventually destroying 8,000 tents and killing six. The storm was not forecast—Haiti does not have a functioning weather monitoring system, and reporters had to call the US coast guard to verify that it was not a tropical storm. I was driving through the city in the moments before it struck, when hot wind blew dust in my eyes, and merchants scrambled to tuck plastic sheeting over their baskets. Driving home past felled trees, my driver exclaimed, “imagine if it was a hurricane!”
A tent hung suspended from a broken telephone pole near my house for days. Two nights ago another heavy storm hit. Even stable houses flooded. Electricity has been sporadic or reliant on generators ever since.
In the aftermath of the January earthquake, and amidst the politics that have slowed the reconstruction process, countless organizations have distributed tents. Dr. Megan Coffee, an American working on tuberculosis at the Haitian University and Educational Hospital joked that when organizations hear of an issue they “throw tents at people.” A private hospital owner was incensed that NGOs working at his hospital refused to pay his staff salaries and asked if they could pay them in tents, blankets and food instead. Lives are rebuilt with salaries, he said, not by tents. A friend of mine jumped on the business directly after the earthquake, buying and selling tents for profit.
Over a million people still live in tents in Port-au-Prince, and the number has stagnated over the last months—many people have nowhere to go due to lack of funds and employment, and housing and land disputes for the buildings still standing. But Dr. Coffee wondered if when people are counting their donations if they are considering that these tents have a three to four month life spans. “People aren’t camping, they are living in these tents.” And with families coming and going, and opening businesses under their tents, amidst hot weather and wind, the fabric fades and weakens.
Even if the “big one” doesn’t strike, Haitians are facing daily housing struggles. It may not be international breaking news, but it’s raining in Port-au-Prince. People are getting wet, people can’t get electricity, children are getting sick, and even though it is, it can’t go on.
