Haiti. The Princess of the landfill 
My friend Rosa is working on "In cover "of English Television and has just returned from Haiti. On his return sent me some letters and some pictures. When I read I was absolutely impressed. I asked permission to put them on the blog because I think they are very good. I hope you impress as much as me. And I'll shut up. Talk Rosa, do not add one iota.
"The arrival at the airport in Port au Prince in the evening A jumble of hand carts compete for travelers hoping to get a dollar closer to the car through a dark road, wounded by cracks and holes that make it difficult and uncomfortable journey, a mere 70 meters.
The way to the hotel, with just lighting suggests several camps in the earthquake. Fortunately, the dreaded hurricane passed over Thomas and the pools are shallower than expected. We passed the monument of the 3 hands holding a globe which has fallen American zone for Haiti.
Near the Presidential Palace, which remains exactly as in the first images of the earthquake, and very near the Hotel Le Plaza, more displaced people sheltering under tarpaulins donated by various NGOs. The show is bleak and it is clear that we will not leave quietly walk and dinner any night ...
Well, the hotel leaves much to be desired but the thread running water exiting the basin can wash your face. I feel very fortunate compared to the hundreds of people who are just a few hundred feet of this room and even more when I see that even the old air conditioner to cool to throw something rattling powerful, plus the bed is large, great, I'm exhausted because we have about 15 flying hours in the body and a 6-hour time difference, so I curled on my big bed and tiredness lets me forget that only a few hundred meters, hundreds of people living overcrowded without light or water, sharing space miserable and dirty, where girls who have not yet reached puberty are prostitute under the command of some small mob to survive.
Morning sun shines strong that it is a blessing because inclement weather this country would disappear from the map.
Everything looks better under the sunlight, even trash does not look so ugly in spite of the foul smell, perhaps because the rats do not dare leave both days.
The city of Puerto Principe shows raw, with the rubble of collapsed buildings still scattered around the city and many homes still fall, where the former residents or new, to rebuild their shattered lives. Small stalls that sell avocados, beverages difficult to identify, lighters ... people come and go in a steady stream of life, and know it is better not to stop.
is the time of entry to schools and surprising to see schoolchildren in uniforms spotless, so clean and ironed ..., girls with hair in braids forming countless beautiful line drawings will not be much work behind each one of those uniforms, each strand twisted! Heroines scattered throughout the city, around the country crouched beside bowls broken again and again rub the clothes for the whole family how much greatness in each woman in the third world! Nadine
just given birth and her face is completely expressionless, neither pain nor joy are reflected in his face. Is difficult to imagine what you think. The doctor puts the baby on her lap and she makes no gesture, is the doctor who has to put the girl on the breast of his mother to start breast feeding and child with force, known from this time to follow or not in this world that just arrived will depend on all of it. Mother makes a gesture, probably just figure out how and why, they will give to eat tonight at his other 3 children. His sister and mother are with her, among the three wash and launder uniforms for school the next day.
How much greatness in each woman in the third world!
Princess Weir
We
which may be the closest shanty town in the world. A row of houses, once again made with the tarpaulins donated by an NGO, on a boulevard lined by the traffic of cars and trucks on both sides floods everything with smoke and dust.
Beside a garbage heap, suddenly discovered a very young woman, who had to be pretty, wearing a long dress party, perhaps a bride, that should be white, his hair filled with a grayish powder that could be as old as the earthquake 10 months ago. Chatters to herself without looking at anything in particular and with no sound out of his mouth, wears a key in the left hand and paper cuts, nails long and dirty, as all of it is in the trash but not moving, only standing there, absolutely gone. There are a spaghetti tossed in the trash, the pick and I am appalled to think that they are going to eat, but not only holds between his fingernails dirty, they slip and fall by his hand away again. Certainly there
better times in the life of this young woman, very young, who walks slowly for a Death Row called Haiti, convicted for the sole crime of being born in the wrong place.
I know nothing about it but how I would have liked to know what history open door which house the key? Cabinet "that came out that dress? Under what circumstances that life stopped? "
