These are the images of the aftermath of the Haiti earthquake that touched me most: the emergency shelters, the tent cities and camps of the displaced earthquake survivors. Everyone in these temporary settlements is in desperate need of basic necessities; potable water, food, shelter, and medicine. They wait for aid that never arrives and try, in the meantime, to scavenge what they need to survive, even as they are angered and upset at the reports of looting that portray and condemn them as criminals, as if they had any other choice.
I spent several months in a refugee camp in Macao when I was a child. During this time, before finding refuge in Canada, my family was stacked in a warehouse of cubicles not much larger than the beds they contained, separated from other families only by cloth partitions. When I first came to Haiti, it was the similarity between what I had experienced and the emergency shelters, the tent cities and camps of the displaced earthquake survivors, that touched me most. Out of disparity, while living as refugees and displaced survivors, we are all alike.
The world’s interest was gripped by the tragedy, but is already shifting away despite the development of ever increasing problems. Everyone in these temporary settlements is in desperate need of basic necessities; potable water, food, shelter, and medicine. They wait for aid that never arrives and try, in the meantime, to scavenge what they need to survive, even as they are angered and upset at the reports of looting that portray and condemn them as criminals, as if they had any other choice. In the words of Anatole France, "The law, in its majestic equality, forbids the rich as well as the poor to sleep under bridges, to beg in the streets, and to steal bread."
Despite all this, there remains hope. They find hope in the surviving members of their families, in each other, and in their religion. They will live on and they will rebuild.