Helping earthquake victims in Haiti touches volunteer

It's been more than four months since an earthquake devastated Haiti's capital and killed hundreds of thousands of people. Yet, bodies are still entombed inside crumbled buildings, while survivors continue to fight over food and medicine.

It's clear that millions of dollars in supplies and other donations have yet to reach those who need them the most, said Theresa Land, a Las Vegas resident who spent three weeks in April in the country helping earthquake victims rebuild their lives.

Pallets of diapers, canned goods and other provisions remain untouched near Port-au-Prince International Airport, leaving many Haitians and relief workers scratching their heads.

The problem no longer is getting donations to Haiti. Now it's about who doles out the goods to earthquake victims in dire need.

"Unless you send (donations) to someone or a group who can personally get it from the airport to hand it out, these people never get it," said Land, who traveled with about 30 people with the nonprofit Global Volunteer Network.

The only time she ever witnessed money being spent on aid was construction equipment rebuilding the country's presidential palace, which imploded as a result of the earthquake.

The Haitians "haven't seen a dime of money," Land said.

"The people say it all goes in the Haiti government's pockets. They are so sick of their government."

In a red notebook, Land wrote about the heartache of Jacmel, a small city 50 miles south of Port-au-Prince.

It was one of the locations hardest hit by January's 7.0 earthquake that killed about 250,000 people, injured 300,000 others and displaced at least 1 million people.

Heavy rains poured down during the beginning of the three-hour bus ride from Port-au-Prince to Jacmel. The group's luggage was floating on top of the bus, their belongings -- and all of the toilet paper they had brought with them -- soaked all the way through.

A river of raw sewage and trash flowed through the city of 40,000, and the stench stung her nostrils.

Land wrote: "The smell in areas was really bad -- a mixture of urine, feces and rotting garbage."

The group erected a community center and taught English and math classes to children and adults.

She slept on a cot in a one-person tent with two other people. Her compound was inside a collapsed home that was being built before the earthquake.

For much of the trip, she bathed with baby wipes and used a hole in the ground for a latrine. When they finally built a shower, group members had only two minutes to rinse off.

Land's group was able to salvage an old generator and ration electricity for three hours a night. That allowed them to use cell phones and computers, finally providing a connection to the outside world.

At times, her morale wavered in the overwhelming discomfort.

"The heat here is really getting to me, I think it's more the humidity. I feel tired earlier each evening. The food sucks, the same crap every day for two weeks. I'm so looking forward to eating a pizza and a big bowl of ice cream."

But readjusting to life in Las Vegas has proven difficult. Land said she cannot eat without getting a stomachache or sleep a full night.

"It was a relief leaving and knowing I was going to come home to food and comfortable living," said Land, who returned home April 26. "It's very hard to see that and come back."

She chokes back tears as she recalls, in the comfort of her own home, a two-hour visit to an orphanage one day.

It's too emotional to talk about. For much of the conversation, she gestures toward the red diary for details.

Her handwriting and wording change at times throughout the journal -- from neat cursive with a distinct description of her surroundings to a sloppy, hastily written cursive with less detail and more emotion as her thoughts take over.

"I noticed a small boy of about two sitting on the floor in his own urine eating rice out of a bowl. Up against the wall was a two-month-old baby sleeping with flies all around its little head. The mat it was on was so dirty."

Despite the mosquitoes and rats, Land talks about and wrote about her strong desire to return to help Haitians recover, although she questions if it will ever be possible.

She wrote: "I don't think in my life time there will be much done. I do plan on returning. I feel I left a piece of me in Haiti."

Contact Kristi Jourdan at kjourdan@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0279.