Jessica Freeburg - Collapse and Chaos: The Story of the 2010 Earthquake in Haiti

On January 12, 2010, residents of Haiti, located on the small island of , many Haitians were working hard simply to earn enough to support their basic needs.

The markets in the capital city of Port-au-Prince were busy with men and women buying and selling goods. Voices speaking Haitian Creole, the French-based language used by most Haitians, floated through the markets like gentle waves. The streets were filled with greetings, casual conversations, and bartering. A steady flow of bodies and chatter filled the space as people carried on with business as usual.

Since only 50 percent of Haitian children went to school, many youngsters spent a typical day helping their parents or looking in nearby areas for work to bring home money. Those who attended school learned about their ancestors proud accomplishments, including becoming the second nation in the Americas, after the United States, to secure its freedom from colonial rule. With a population composed almost entirely of descendants of African slaves, gaining independence made Haiti the first black republic in the modern world.

The Haitian people had weathered many natural disasters, including multiple hurricanes in 2008 that killed hundreds of local residents and demolished thousands of homes and businesses. But today, the sun shone brightly through a clear sky and there seemed no reason to worry as people continued with their work.

A hillside community built on the hills above Port-au-Prince, 2009

Wismond reached across the counter and handed change to the women. The 24-year-old had been standing for several hours behind the counter at the small grocery store in the Napoli Hotel in Port-au-Prince. He helped customers with their purchases as they passed through his line.

Thank you, he said with a smile before wishing the customer a good day. Bon jounen.

In Haiti, a good job was a precious thing. Wismond did not have to go far to find people in desperate situations brought on by poverty. The streets were full of people trying to sell anything that might bring them a little money plastic water bottles refilled with juice, used baby clothes, and fruit. People walked among the traffic, wiping down vehicles as they passed, hoping the drivers might hand over a little money for the work.

He smiled at the next customer in line as she set her canned goods on the counter. Bonswa, he said, using the Haitian Creole word for good evening.

The bell rang as Rosemary, her boyfriend, Romules, and her 21-year-old cousin, Stephanie, neared the Andr Malraux School.

They felt privileged to be students. They looked at attending classes as the doorway to a better life. For example, Stephanies goal was to study medicine and become a doctor. Rosemary had no doubt her cousin could achieve this one day.

After Stephanies aunt passed away, she moved in with Rosemarys family. Stephanies quiet humor brightened the already joyful household, and the two cousins quickly became as close as sisters.

Rosemary and Romules paused at the gate, hoping they might settle their argument before Rosemary went into the school.

Hurry, we still have a few minutes to study with the others, Stephanie called to them as she rushed toward the front door of the two-story schoolhouse. Youll make yourself late standing out here to bicker! National college entrance exams were coming soon, and many students gathered in a classroom before regular classes to take advantage of every spare moment of study time.

Ill be right in, Rosemary replied. It should only take a minute to convince this stubborn boy why I am right and he is wrong.

Or Ill pretend to agree quickly so you can get to class, Romules huffed.

Stephanie paused at the door and looked back at them both. Im not sure which of you is more stubborn, she said, smiling and shaking her head. Then she turned and hurried into the school.

Allison sat on the exam table at her doctors office. Her 6-year-old son, Jack, sat in a nearby chair playing a game. She hadnt planned to see the doctor this afternoon, but Dr. Maggie had insisted she come in to have a facial rash treated.

Accompanied by her bodyguard, Lamarre, Allison had changed course from a trip to the grocery store, and headed toward the doctors office instead. Allisons family employed staff to protect them because of the high crime rates in and around the city. Despite her hopes for Haitis future, she knew kidnappings and murders were far too common.

Allison had been in Haiti for several years. She came first in the spring of 1996, serving as a U.S. diplomat. Just one day after arriving in Haiti, she met her future husband. Although she left briefly to take a post in Paris, she returned, married, and settled in as a stay-at-home mother to their son, Jack.

Your new building looks great, Allison said, glancing around the newly finished office on the second floor of the four-story structure.

Thank you. My husband does nice work, Dr. Maggie replied. Her husband, a French architect, had designed the building. Now you can lie back. Well cover your eyes and start the treatment.

Allison settled back onto the table, shut her eyes, and allowed herself to relax.

When you are done with your homework, you can help me with dinner, Lexmarks father, Dieuveil Marceline, said. I am going to feed your brother.

OK, 12-year-old Lexmark replied as he looked up. His father stood in his bedroom doorway holding his baby brother.

Lexmark enjoyed most of his schoolwork and felt proud of himself for earning good grades. Education was very important to his family, and he knew he was lucky to be attending school. He knew many boys his age did not get to do so.

He heard the familiar creak of the rocking chair in the living room as his father settled into it to give the baby a bottle. Lexmark opened his textbook and turned to the chapter he had been assigned to read.

Port-au-Prince to study household workers and human rights.

Although hardships in Haiti were evident, Laura found the daily routines of those around her quietly predictable. Many of the men would go out each day, searching for odd jobs. She could count on seeing the young students washing their uniforms each night by hand. After dinner, families sat together to watch Mexican soap operas that had been dubbed over in French.

Laura had been touched to see the generosity of many Haitians who were happy to share what they could with her. The residents of this community, who in just a short amount of time had become her dear friends, shared their food and looked out for her as if she were a family member. She sat quietly reflecting on the notes shed taken about her new friends.