(The following is a translation of an article published in FRANCE-AMERIQUE, a French newspaper in the USA. Thanks to Juliette Havelka for her translation.)

A Frenchman from Haiti, Serge Klang, lived through the earthquake in Port-au-Prince on January 12th.  After having lost everything, he is back in New York with his Haitian wife, Geralde, and tells his violent story with delicacy...
 
There is rage and these words are full of anger.  These sighs and silences full of violence. There is also inconsolable distress, which, with a little less clearsightedness reappears in fits and starts.  Facing this outbreak of strong feelings emerging from a mixture of emotions, Serge Klang hangs on to a disconcerting and embarrassing generosity. It seems to remind him, after his experience of the Haitian earthquake on January 12th, that he is still a human being, and alive.  Nevertheless, he has experienced what the whole world has seen on television.  "I am in the heavy traffic of Port-au-Prince, late for a meeting.  I am listening to the radio and looking at my watch for the nth time when, suddenly, all hell breaks loose!  My head hits the roof of my car, and I am tossed about like a cork in a very rough sea before being hurled against my side window.  Outside four houses collapse one after the other and clouds of dust rise all around. People totally panicked run in every direction, some fall heavily to the ground, others lie down or are on their knees.

In cold blood, this former professor of the Paris Sorbonne, now an architectural and land consultant in Port-au-Prince, born in Haiti 64 years ago, describes the inability to agonize during this type of moment, and admits that he realises that, facing these unleashed elements, "man is nothing." he whispers.  "one observes people without purpose or direction who remain silent in order not to wake the monster.  One must above all not anger it.  Then one observes others who are obviously running nowhere."

Today, back in Huntington (Long Island, N.Y.), Serge Klang tells of the moments after the earthquake, his immediate thoughts:  call his family to reassure them, to reassure oneself  too, then ... go home, climbing over chaos.  This earthquake is an ordeal which has completely upset the foundations of his life.  He confides:"Facing a tragedy of this amplitude, one cannot but bring up the question of God, of his role and his relationship with men.  Today my faith is shaken.  I understand all those who fell on their knees, raising their arms to heaven to thank God for having spared them.  But they are doubtless unaware that this action shows a thoroughly selfish attitude:  thank you for having spared me and mine... too bad for the others.  All in all, one must examine the profound meaning of this phrase which has always intrigued me:  'Let the dead bury the dead.'?  I don't know."

For this devoted lover of the country which saw him grow to manhood, homage to Haiti becomes almost indispensable.  "I believe that the Haitian people is fundamentally the most good that can be, he says, making voluntarily a French language mistake.  Not the best, but the most good.   Craftsmanship, style of living, literary, artistic, and culinary culture, and above all the extraordinary welcome extended by the Haitians which made Port-au-Prince the pearl of the West Indies."  It would be the worst thing to glimpse forgetfulness.  "Today, Haiti has collapsed.  Now It is indispensable that out of this catastrophe of human dimension should arise something positive.  I sincerely believe that the international community will provide the means. However, I am always left with the question on an elementary reality which is beyond belief:  how can man conceive that to make war billions of dollars can be found each month, while to save a country one can only think in millions."

The following is an account written by an anesthesiologist who was just in Haiti for about a week as part of a volunteer emergency medical team. If the situation needed to be made more real for you, this will probably do it.

Team of 12. Did over 100 operations in the most challenging conditions. Not all amputations. Some limb salvaging procedures. It was a limb salvage device company that flew us in and gave us maybe a million $ in free devices and other support.  A disaster of heartbreaking proportions. The trauma team from Hospital for Special Surgery. Did we do a hundred surgeries? Many amputations. But many limb-saving procedures too. Synthes corp. gave us a jet and many hundreds of thousands of $ in ortho equipment.

The place stank of rotting flesh. Patients in the corridors and courtyards with the most outrageous injuries. By the end of the second day the smell had cleared. Other teams were there. An orthopedist from the Dom Repub. named Scott Nelson (what a hero), Dr. Bacot and a great team from St. Thomas. Medics from France, Mission of Hope team (USA), medics from Australia (what is it about Aussies that is so encouraging? They make it feel like victory in the middle of catastrophe). A Jamaican trio was very welcome. They came and went but they had 3 machine guns. Nights were lonely. Gunfire. Rachel and Gabriel Coupaw (angels) ferried us to their parents house in shifts to sleep. Fed us. Neighbors contributed food (would you give up your cache of food when there is little hope of more?). Slept 6 hours in 4 days.

An anesthesia nightmare. No heart monitor. BP cuff, semi-functional anesthesia circuit (gas vaporizors rusted shut) and pulse oximeters (ours) in two rooms. Got two other rooms going with an anesthesiologist from FT. Myers (Bob Thornton?) No monitor. No BP cuff. No pulse ox til I pieced one together from parts in a storage room unfortunately located next to the place where the amputated limbs were being dumped. That's a smell that will buckle your knees. We brought a ton of stuff but we had to open more rooms to handle the load. Spinals and generals in the 2 rooms with the possibility of positive pressure ventilation (pop-off valves semi functional, CO2 absorbant last changed who knows when). Nerve blocks in the other 2 rooms.

Haitians are beautiful people. As you chop them up they look at you and say "merci doctor. Je t'aime." They really do. In the streets they thank you. Those poor people. They had nothing and it was taken from them. Don't believe the TV coverage. The US presence is strictly photo op so far. Mostly around the airport and the embassy where you can get medical care if you have a US passport. But thank God they took over the air traffic control. Flight in was like a coney island ride. Told to circle without an altitude assigned or a pattern. Much better on the way out. Team exhausted and melting down. Our exit plan fell apart when US military assigned our flight a landing slot but then cancelled it (not unreasonable, I'm sure. They prioritize my getting out a little lower than I did). We were on our way to the D.R. in a truck with maybe a bus to take us to maybe... maybe... .

My Haitian-born partner went to the airport and found that we had a good chance there. A beautiful Haitian girl got us onto the tarmac. Pilots from everywhere offering rides back. Pilot culture is the best. How do you want to go? C130 or 737? Hitched a ride to Montreal.

Good night for now. Oh, we did a c-section on the way out the door. Doctor culture is cool too. Haitian OB-GYN and one of our Orthopedic Fellows. In the middle of Hell on earth the OB didn't just do the case. He talked the fellow through it and then closed. Always educating. Resuscitated the baby. Extubated him and put him in mommy's arms with colleagues shouting "we got to go. We got to go!"

This is an account that was forwarded to me from Father Andrew Labatorio. He is a Philippino priest working in Port-au-Prince in one of the poorest sections of the city.
  
Dear friends,

It has been almost a week after the terrible earthquake but the anguish and woes of the people are still very much alive. still so many people are missing, others are confirmed dead under the debris. the air smells corpses. peope are walking with their faces covered or with a toothpaste to wade off the awful smell from decaying bodies under the rubbles.
  
  Most of the evacuees in my rectory compound are now gone. I sent most of them to the provinces, to their families (especially women and children).. the men chose to stay to watch over their properties. At the parish alone, about 90% of homes were destroyed or damaged. perhaps, 30% or so can be repaired, the rest it needs to be teared down.
  
  People are still sleeping in the streets or in any open spaces. the trauma is so deep. i offer the church for mothers and children as a shelter but no one dare to get inside. i am just thankful there is no rain, otherwise i couldn't imagine if it rains..children and babies outside! I am persuading more mothers near the church to seek shelter inside but they are very afraid. i will keep it open until they have courage to do so. children and babies will not survive living in an open space..
  
  when it happened:
  i was celebrating my regular Tuesday afternoon mass, right during the consecration. i was elevating the chalice when the ground beneath us shooked tremendously. people in the church were shouting and crying, other ran outside, other fell on the ground, everything inside the church fell down, the statue of the Virgin Mary turned into dust..everything in front of me crumbled to ground including the baptish church in front, i saw falling fast, followed by so many houses..the air become so white and dark, i could hear wailing, a chorus calling Jesus name.. when it stop, I was standing right where I was, the altar unmoved, the chalice still elavated not a single drop.. i called the people back in the church..gave them a blessing and send them home to see their families..
  
  the casualties:
  hundreds of people running in the streets, shocked, shaken, other lost their sanity, total madness and chaos, wounded people came out from the rubbles running asking for help..
  i was in front of the church directing people to gather into an open space..
  
  today, i am not sure what will happen next.. rebuilding structures is not possible..
  everything in this country stops.. my food supplies is almost gone, with people to feed and help, i may be able to survive for another week.. all banks are down, prices of food trippled in just couple of days..
  aid/help are not getting to all.. small-private evacuation camps will like not to receive any of these..
  
  tension and insecurity are rising..here at my rectory, the neighborhood organized themselves to keep the street secure.. we put barricade over our streets to keep off possible thiefs or rioters to get inside.. everyone is sleeping outside.. i been sleeping in my car and in a tent at night.. i am not yet sure how safe my rectory is..
  
water is getting less and less, i hope soon we can buy trucks of water but i am sure it will be trippled in price.. i dont have enough money (cash) to spend.. i just keep on praying, God will deliver us soon..
  
for now, i am sending evacuees in my compound to the country sides, leaving the men only,,,so when things get worst..we will not worry much about the children, women and the babies.

the philippine government is sending a plane to evacuate all filipinos working here in haiti. we fear for their safety..
  
for now, i can only ask for more prayers,,, if ever, there's  way help can get through me, i will let you know,,, for now, I am on my own here,,, and I am scared.. but i still believe,
  
  - Andrew
  
  I will try to keep u posted whenever i can get access to internet.

The day before the Haitian earthquake, my parish's Twinning ministry, "Hand in Hand with Haiti", met to discuss a medical mission trip we were planning to our sister parish, St. Gabriel, in Beau Sejour, Haiti. This past summer, a group from Canada had helped them build a small clinic, and we hoped to send a small team of medical professionals there to provide care to the town of 20,000 people. Little did we know what was about to happen to our brothers and sisters in that poor mountain town between Leogane (north coast) and Jackmel (south coast).

It took five days to receive word from Father Ronal, the Priest at the parish there. Luckily he wasn't hurt, however there were many deaths in the town and the structures in the town had been decimated. Here's an email from him we received the Sunday after the quake (it was sent to a fellow Roman Catholic priest): 

"Dear Father, I just wanted to inform you that I am well (thanks be to God!) as are the children at my place. However, there are many deaths at Beau Sejour. The church, the rectory, the clinic and the school have all collapsed. Many people are homeless and suffering other damages. Thanks for your prayers and for thinking of us. Please greet everyone. This morning in the ruins of the church I celebrated Mass."

One in prayer,
Father Ronal.

Here's a video of the town of Beau Sejour before the quake. It chronicles the journey of a small group of missionaries from my church, Holy Family, in St. Petersburg, Florida. The video starts out in Port-au-Prince and takes you through the rugged trip to Beau Sejour. It shows the church, school, rectory and clinic before the quake.

The Road to Beau Sejour from Bill Cote on Vimeo.