Finally on the ground in Libya. Two days of transit to the Egyptian border from Tunis, two days to get across, lots of hassles. Got to spend a couple evenings at a fancy 5 star hotel in Masa Matruh right on the Mediterranean though. Woo hoo… No pics.
First 48 hours on the ground in Tunisia -
Morning of arrival at the Tunisian/Libyan border Gadaffi’s forces made a hard push to solidify control of the western front.
Stayed in the refugee camp until sunrise, shot for an hour or so, spent the rest of the day trying to figure out how to get across. Yesterday the refugee flow slowed to a trickle, only Bangladeshis and sub-Saharan Africans being let through, no Arabs.
All roads leading to Ras Jedir on lock-down, had to accept the reality that a border jump wasn’t going to happen here at the moment. Booked the next flight from Tunis to Cairo, will enter through the eastern front like everyone else.
Few snaps from my first hour back in the saddle:
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Welcome back! One year photo hiatus. Severed all the flexor tendons and much of the nerves in the four fingers of my right hand. Out of the country, no health care, etc. After eight months of BS, finally organized tendon transplant surgery at a public hospital in NYC. Tunisia? Pre-surgery physical therapy. Egypt? Pre-surgery physical therapy. Libya? Ciao, baby! Gaffer taped up some left handed Leicas and ready to roll with my cripple self. Sexy pic from the MacBook Pro of aforementioned incident, just incase you’re curious:
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Finally saw a Haiti 2010 t shirt today. I fly back to NYC tomorrow morning. Au revoir Ayiti.
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Attended a burial ceremony the other day. While wondering around the cemetery snapping I was waved over by a grave digger. The woman mourning requested that I not photograph, this was the seventeenth family member she had buried in the past six weeks. We drove back to Champ de Mars together and she explained a bit of her life since the earthquake. Her son was trapped underneath the rubble of her home, speaking to her coherently. She contacted the UN to dig him out, they crushed him with the backhoe. The UN refused to help bury the body so she carried it on her shoulder to the cemetery that evening. The cemetery was locked, she climbed up the pile of dead bodies and jumped the gate before smashing the front of her father’s tomb with a rock and laying her son inside. Sixteen corpses later and there we were, watching her nephew being placed into an already over-stuffed grave. I expressed my sincere condolences. “I don’t care about that, I want to tell you a story”.
There it is.
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No more access. The director was always a problem and now the guards won’t play ball. Short of scaling the wall with some sort of grappling hook I think this is it. Unfortunately I was only allowed 5 minutes to shoot each day I could get in, would have liked to spend more time with these guys.
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No access to the psychological institution today, my usual method of arriving after the director leaves and negotiating entrance with the guard failed to work. I was told to come back tomorrow at 10 AM. This could be a problem.
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Brought some Haitian butter cookies and cigarettes today, everyone was happy.
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“Hey man, where’s my cookie? You were supposed to bring me a cookie. You keep coming but you don’t bring no cookies.” I am uncertain if there is an official food distribution system at the institution I am currently working at. The patients claim they are not fed but the director says otherwise. Monday a man was hiding in the bathroom corner eating chicken and rice out of a styrofoam container; yesterday another was sitting wrapped up in blankets eating rice and beans from a styrofoam container. Every street food vendor in Port-au-Prince uses identical styrofoam, the patients must receive the food from visiting family or pay the guards to get it for them. I will pick up some cookies tomorrow.
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Awoke to a 5.6 aftershock last night around 1:30 AM; seven minutes later a subsequent aftershock shook me out of bed. First time I have experienced two back to back like that. Ran out of the room with my camera and joined the other guests in the courtyard, we stood around in our underwear for a few minutes and made some morbid jokes before going back inside to sleep. The Haitians staying in the rear of the hotel were more cautious and seem to have spent the night outside sleeping on pool chairs. The Israeli aid workers staying in the next building over pitched their tents on the concrete. The first week I was here I gave my tent to an elderly lady living outside with no waterproof shelter. I think my room has new cracks in the walls.
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Sorry about the lack of updates, got quite a bit more sick before getting better. Was escorted to General Hospital the other night after being coerced by the fine healthcare workers observing my symptoms at Le Plaza. Saw an American doctor and got hooked up with Cipro and electrolyte mix. Spent the last days in bed recuperating, drank tons of water and got off the cigarettes and alcohol temporarily. Feeling better now, the more incapacitating symptoms have dissipated and the antibiotics seem to have done their job.
Started a reportage on psychological institutions, more pics to come.
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Stuck in bed for the past two days, extremely sick. I suspect the delicious street chicken to be the culprit of my illness so back to Clif Bars serving as my main sustenance. Hope to be fully operational by tomorrow.
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Yesterday I jumped onto a truck to get a better view of the outdoor prayer ceremonies. I was offered bread and water by the Haitians already on top. I graciously declined the bread and tried to decline the water but they would not take no for an answer; I placed it next to a lady sitting by me when no one was looking. Death and destruction have never had an effect on me, at least in the short term. Yet I had to fight back tears the 20 minutes I was sitting on top of that truck. Their generosity was brutally humbling.
Shortly after the prayer ceremonies ended it began to rain. When hurricane season hits in a few months conditions will deteriorate drastically. To what point? My driver Bauvais is optimistic: “Only Jesus knows, only Jesus can choose the rain… But Jesus loves Haiti.”.
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Taking toll of the damage around Port-au-Prince it is frightening how many of the destroyed buildings were schools and hospitals. Previous to the earthquake tertiary education enrollment was at an estimated 1% and 1 in 3.5 children born never saw their 5th birthday. People seem to be settling into the IDP camps for the long haul, makeshift concrete foundations are being set for tents and two story structures built out of salvaged scraps of wood are beginning to pop up. One tries not to think what the statistics will be in a few years time.
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Strange how familiar the smell of death is, every few houses the sweet/sour breeze is instantly recognizable. I think it is human instinct.
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“Mister, do you want to see dead bodies? I can show you dead bodies, this morning I saw a dog eating a lady. I am a tour guide, I help the tourists and show them around. I can show you where I saw the dog eating the lady.” The large IDP camp on Champ de Mars/Rue Capois has vendors selling tourist trinkets, local paintings and wooden carvings with the word “Haiti” inscribe across the street from the Plaza Hotel. I am waiting for the Haiti 2010 t shirts.
I spent yesterday figuring out logistics on the ground, sourcing translators and a cheap motorbike driver. I walked around the city getting a feel for the situation, talking with people and listening to their stories. Today I head into Cite Soleil.
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Arrived in Port-au-Prince last night after 4 days of transit. Driving into PaP was a bit surreal, the bus driver decided to put on pop love songs as we began to enter the capital and catch glimpses of the destruction and IDP camps. Did not get to take many pictures, slept 90% of the bus ride and arrived when it was dark. This one is from the Dominican side of the Jimani border while waiting for the passports to be cleared – Three Haitian workers unloading a truck of Dominican brown sugar to drive into Port-au-Prince.
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