When the Earth Flexes Its Muscles

ABOVE: The dead, the wounded, the orphaned and the rescuers. Andy Olsen photos

Port-au-Prince, Haiti

It took nearly 500 years to build this city. It took less than 60 seconds to level it.

I've been wandering the streets of Haiti's capital city for the last two days since a magnitude 7.0 earthquake split the streets and crumpled buildings here on Wednesday afternoon. Words and photos fail to describe the devastation that hundreds of thousands of people here are living through.

I am well and safe, staying with a good team of folks at the Visa Lodge, one of the city's few remaining hotels. We've felt many of the more than 28 aftershocks that followed the quake. They've become so common at the hotel, at least, that most of us don't flinch. But mattresses still line the parking lot outside where many of the hotel guests sleep at night, safely separated from the concrete building. Erika is helping an equally great team of people back at Northwest Haiti Christian Mission's main campus in Saint-Louis du Nord, manning the mission's phone lines and e-mail and sifting through the hundreds of communications that are coming through.

Time and fatigue won't allow me to write everything I should, but I trust there will be moments for that later. Nothing here is easy now -- diesel and gas are scarce, cell phones have been useless until just today, and nearly every remaining building in the city is shuttered. It took two days to find a local person who was finally able to provide us with a cellular device to access the internet. As I type, the drone of C-130 cargo planes rumbles through my room, goliaths with bellies full of gifts for a badly hurting country. They are now taking off and landing at the Port-au-Prince airport 24 hours a day amid swarms of helicopters.

We stopped by the airport this evening and found a disappointing lack of food, water and supplies. Instead, there was an army of journalists and expensive broadcasting equipment, waiting to meet the heroes of Haiti as soon as they arrived. At the moment, they outnumber the heroes.

I have no idea why God chose to place Erika and me in this country just a few days before the darkest day in its history, but I have no choice to but see a reason behind it. It has been a trying few days in many ways, and I have had to turn down offers from photo editors at national media outlets in order to be faithful to my commitment to working for NWHCM. I trust they are decisions God will honor.

To my family and friends, thank you for all your prayers. I'm sure it has been hard to be out of contact due to the extreme limitations on communication. Erika and I cherish each of you so much. The plan at the moment is to head back to Northwest Haiti on a truck that's coming Sunday, not a lot of other options. As much as it pains me to leave Port-au-Prince while half of the other photographers in the world are here, I have a lot of other things to tend to before we head home.

I'll try to post more as I'm able. As for tonight, I'm going to take a shower to try and wash off the smells I've accumulated across the city. Port-au-Prince smells like death.