1 March 2010: When I first in arrived in Haiti nearly two weeks ago, I was told that one of the biggest safety concerns would be the road to Jacmel from Port-au-Prince. Once the rains came, mudslides could make it impassable and therefore dangerous to anyone caught on the other side. 

Plan Haiti has an office in Jacmel, a port city in the southwest region that before the quake was known for its quaint French colonial architecture and lively arts scene. I’d watched Plan’s video footage of thousands of family tents from Plan Dominican Republic coming to shore, just days after, because the town was so badly damaged and the people were cut off from the support and supplies coming through Port-au-Prince.

A visit to Plan's tents

On Friday, I found out that Marc-Antoine Lefedor, Plan Haiti’s Information Communication Technology Manager was going to Jacmel the next day to check how things were going for his team. I asked if I could tag along. I knew it would be my last chance before leaving next week, and I wanted to see exactly what had happened to those tents. 

Saturday was a clear, blue-sky day, and I gave no thought to the rain. And even though the straight road leading to the mountain was fissured and lifted up in places, I felt safe. The road was long and winding but it was well paved. We passed through the town of Leogane, the quake’s epicenter, and there were so many people shopping for fruits, vegetables, and bric-a-brac on the sides of the street, we had to honk our way through. It was market day.

Bored children: school needed

Plan tents in Jacmel

At some point, I looked back from the mountain and saw the wide green plain below stretching out to the sea. Meanwhile, on the sides of the road, were people getting on with the business of living. Many were just walking alone. There were many fruit stands along the way, with mandarins, limes, mangos, and grapefruit for sale, usually from baskets set on the ground. I passed many children, who without school, looked very bored.

After about three hours, along with all the colorful tap-taps and speeding motorbikes with a least two people riding precariously on board, we arrived. I saw how in Jacmel, unlike Port-au-Prince and Croix-des-Bouquets, there were no sprawling tent camps. The red and beige tents that Plan had delivered were slightly sun-bleached, but they were neatly organized in long rows, on the town’s streets and in the parks and plazas.

Marc-Antoine arranged for me to go to a child-friendly center in Jacmel, which was on a street lined with our tents. A big group of girls and boys of all ages gathered there to meet me, so I could take their photographs, and maybe talk about life after the quake. The first question they had for me was: “What is your name?” And since the name Heidi sounds a lot like Haiti when it’s pronounced in French, we all started off with a good giggle. 

Waiting for rain

We never got to my questions about what it's like to live in a tent with their parents who are constantly worrying about the rains and making ends meet. Instead, after I took some photographs, I turned my camera around. Watching them see themselves on the LCD screen made us all howl with laughter. And for that moment — before the rain fell hard later that night and the road back to Port-au-Prince was almost impassable — we were in a child-friendly space, together, taking a break from the world.

Support Plan's recovery work in Haiti