At The Orphanage

Happily and contentedly installed at the facilities at Diakonos, my first job is more bureaucratic than practical.

For i have one advantage that no-one else has here, and that is my “white” skin colour. I find such racism extremely difficult to swallow, but i am here to do whatever i can, and if my “whiteness” can assist the situation, so be it.

The orphanage has been paying what seems an extortionate US$130 per month for Internet broadband connection, but it has only been operation at 56K, meaning that the Internet connection has been painfully slow and no photos have been able to be sent electronically.

We try to call Access Haiti, the Internet company, but are kept on hold for more than 30 minutes with no joy. Thus, Wilkens (my tent buddy and an ex-marine) and I have more than a two hour journey to make it up to the office of Access Haiti. The journey takes two long bus journeys in the sweltering and oppressive 34 degree heat.

The buses are clearly not designed for those of us “blessed” with 2 metre long legs and are filled well beyond capacity with blaring Caribbean sounds over a 2000 decibel sound system. Together with the dust, grime and horrendous smells that encompass the city of Port au Prince any journey around the capital fills me with dread.

We finally make it to their Head Office and quickly make the most of their air-con, drinking water and flushing toilet facilities. Never shy to play the “indignant foreigner” card, we are quickly seen to, and within 20 minutes have the modem reconfigured with the assurance that all will now be well. However much we plead, we are unable to secure a direct telephone number so we are pretty much stuck with another arduous journey if there are further problems.

We are both hot, smelly and at a point of exhaustion, and Wilkens splashes his non-existent cash on a chicken lunch/tea/dinner to revive our spirits. It´s possible i am just hungry, but it tastes delicious. Back through the bleakness and squalor of the city, our camp seems a complete paradise in comparison to so many other parts of Port au Prince.

Whilst the Internet has been successfully considerably improved, there remains a problem with the telephone connection. Poor today brave Wilkens volunteers to repeat the journey alone. I do reluctantly offer to escort him, but he is very happy and clearly prepared to go it alone.

Wilkens and I share the deluxe tent and mattress to ourselves, and I feel very spoiled, not least because all the children and auxiliary workers are bundled onto sleeping mats under one giant tent.

With the walls and gates damaged from the quake, improvisation is imperative. So parts of the external walls have been rebuilt and where not completed, corrugated iron, barbed wire and an electric fence has been used. Jean-Luc is very concerned about security, and is up most of the night as the temporary security guard. He is looking to find a shot-gun for additional security, but these are difficult to get hold of in Port au Prince at this time.

My only concern is that after a few more days in the sun i´m gonna lose the “advantage” of being white, but at least i can safely say i certainly don´t sound local.