John Porter & Jenny: The Windward Passage

Part VI

Part VI

The main commercial harbor in Port au Prince is used to large container ships, so the barks of the fleet like the Cuauhtemoc (Mexico), the Elissa (out of Galveston), and Gloria (Columbia) as well as the full rig Cisne Branco from Brazil can use the slips and quays, but the smaller brigs and schooners have to moor in the harbor. Luckily, it turns out the Captains were doing more than drinking rum in the D.R. and have arranged a small fleet of boats to move to three or four ships at a time to offload our cargo onto shore. So even more than Samana I am drawn back to old sailing days as we rig a line from the winch through a pulley hung from the tops'l yardarm to quickly lower our medical and sanitation supplies on waiting zodiacs and dingys of our sister ships, watching the small boats race among the large ones as the bring our goods to the docks.

The problem is what happens to the cargo once it hits the ground. Haiti's infrastructure was week to begin with, and the earthquake and resultant political infighting has only resulted in supplies rotting in warehouses for weeks or months before reaching the dozens of refugee camps in and around the city. Some of the ships were able to arrange a few trucks, either respectable rentals or calling in favors, but John and some of the other members of the fleet are being sent on a recce to find out who needs what and how to get it there as we offload. Once I see the other members of the recon team when the boat comes to pick John up, I have every confidence in their success. Upright, solid, extremely assured working competence reflecting the air of career military.

As we finally take the liberty boat ashore in the late morning, Kevin taps my arm.

"She's riding higher in the water."

I look back at the Jones and I would swear he is right, not much, a foot or two, but that's impressive considering she isn't a cargo vessel. I look Kevin dead in the eye and we say in excited stereo, "I wonder how fast she can go now?"

We were supposed to be tasked out to various camps, but when we arrive at the docks, puzzling over the odd request to wear our foul weather boots, we're told to sit tight. Word quickly passes that a storm hit and flooded out a couple of the lowing lying camps in town, destroying many of the tents families had been living in for months. In a couple weeks, August brings the official start of hurricane season. These people need real shelter. Barring that, they need to get to higher ground.

This is where you thank the Gods for military people. Instead of waiting on the politicians dicking around, after a brief sitrep with the recon team, a representative from the camp, and the U.N. coordinator, we are divided up into crews to help the existing volunteer corp and U.N. troops pack and move the camp in the most danger.

Only several thousand people. No sweat.

"But first your team is going to take the trucks and move the supplies up to the new location. I don't trust leaving them here on the docks." I hear the Captain say as the coordinators walk by.

"Black market?" John asks.

"That and the government," the local camp representative says, waving at one of the large warehouses. "Once your supplies go in there my friend, they don't come out again. If you have your paperwork, I suggest you get them out of here as soon as you can. I have sent people to meet you at the new location to help unload. We'll take the other six teams and get things started on this end."

Port au Prince brutally combines Old World aspirations with harsh New World realities. Parts of the city are filled with 18th century colonial architecture with their beautifully manicured properties edged by the decaying remains of 1920-style apartments, shops, and office buildings crammed onto city streets that remind me of inner-city Los Angeles, only the signs are in French rather than Spanish and every spare inch of sidewalk is taken up with street merchants hawking their wares. From there civilization quickly fades into neighborhoods of slums and ramshackle shops.