People are everywhere in Haiti.
In alleys, on top of buildings, in the middle of the street, in parks, in the backs of crowded ‘tap tap’ taxis.
And people are walking, too — carrying children, personal belongings, food, clothes, and anything else they can manage.
I wonder where everyone is walking. Sometimes, I think moving is just a better alternative to standing or settling near wrecked buildings.
And the tent communities are widespread. If there’s an open space, then there’s a good chance there’s a blanket and a tent of some kind where people are sleeping.
When night falls, there is no light in the city streets. Headlights from UN trucks, relief and aid caravans or media convoys illuminate the sidewalks.
Drivers set their own traffic patterns. No traffic lights, so just honk the horn several times to let people know you’re about to cut them off or make a u-turn down a one-way street.
It happens.
But such a tragic situation can also inspire. Folks are still living their lives the best way they know how. And they’re helping each other along the way. And that doesn’t change — whether it’s disaster or just another Monday night or Thursday afternoon.
There has been violence, unrest in certain areas. These are desperate times. It’s not wise to downplay this at all.
But there is also another side — or two or three sides to that.
A collapsed school has become a refuge for a residents of a Petionville neighborhood. Young children chant ‘Obama, Obama,’ at the sight of any helicopters or airplanes reaching the airport. Haitian women braid young girls’ hair along the crowded city streets.
Keep in mind there are families in Haiti. There are people in Haiti like you and me — workers, store owners, craftsman, brothers, teachers, nurses. Let’s not just give them one big ‘devastated’ label.
There is so much strength in Haiti if you look beyond all of its problems. Yet it is hard to look beyond unimaginable pain and the countless signs which read “Need food, water and care” in 3 languages.
It takes faith, perspective and patience.
How much do you have? More importantly, how much will the Haitian people have?
I still think about 22-year-old Pierre Roberson searching for his older brother just across the street from the Port-au-Prince airport. Or Ricardo Pierre, a Haitian native, who is volunteering his time in a Santo Domingo hospital to help doctors translate as they care for Haitian patients. And then there’s Jeanne Ker, a Haitian-American who has now lived through the earthquake and Hurricane Katrina. She tends to her ailing mother and refuses to return home to New Orleans.
Talk about strength.
People are everywhere in Haiti.
Good people.
Follow theGrio’s Todd Johnson on Twitter at @rantoddj