28071: (news) Chamberlain: Floodwater gone but fear remains in Gonaives (fwd)

[Bob Corbett <corbetre@webster.edu>]

From: Greg Chamberlain <GregChamberlain@compuserve.com>

     By Jim Loney

     GONAIVES, Haiti, March 6 (Reuters) - Along the banks of Haiti's now
bone-dry La Quinte river, tiny concrete-block homes have replaced mud huts
swept away by Tropical Storm Jeanne's floods 17 months ago. But the
memories and the fears remain.
     "The water was so high it killed some people over by the mango tree,"
said Rosemene Ullysee Assad, who lives about 50 yards (46 metres) from the
La Quinte river bed. "It was up to the top of the house and we were all in
the tree, 10 or 15 people in the tree."
     More than 3,000 people died in and around Haiti's third-largest city,
Gonaives, when Jeanne's rains swelled rivers and sent torrents of mud from
barren hillsides into the streets. Just four months after another flood in
southern Haiti also killed nearly 3,000, Jeanne overwhelmed the
impoverished Caribbean country.
     The International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies
and other humanitarian groups launched appeals for money to feed tens of
thousands in one of the world's poorest countries. Aid workers descended on
Gonaives to pull the city from the mud.
     Since the September 2004 disaster, CARE and other groups have cleared
64,000 cubic yards of debris from the streets and built or rehabilitated
more than 6 miles (10 km) of canals in the vulnerable city of 200,000,
officials said.
     Still, Assad and her neighbours fear a repeat. More work needs to be
done on the city's defences, and residents hope that the Feb. 7 election of
President Rene Preval will bring political stability and increase the flow
of aid money.
     "Every time it rains, these people get out of their houses and move
away from the river," said Jouthe Joseph, a regional administrator for
CARE.
     Gonaives, a tough port city only 100 miles (160 km) north of Haiti's
capital but four bone-jarring hours along a rocky, cratered national
highway, was the birthplace of the bloody revolt that forced ex-President
Jean-Bertrand Aristide out of the National Palace in February 2004.
     Just seven months after the rebellion, Jeanne compounded Haiti's
misery. Although it swept north of Hispaniola, the Caribbean island shared
by Haiti and the Dominican Republic, the storm's heavy rains saturated
vulnerable hillsides cleared of trees by impoverished Haitians desperate
for cooking fuel.
     Mudslides swamped Gonaives and surrounding towns. At the two-storey
Chachou Hotel in the centre of the city, water reached the roof.
     Corn, bananas, beans and other crops were wiped out, leaving farmers
without food or seed.
     The poverty that stalks the vast majority of Haitians -- average
annual income is about $390 -- reached crisis proportions. Aid groups
scrambled to feed tens of thousands of homeless Gonaives residents.
     The city's dust-choked streets have long been cleared of the mud and
the emergency feeding programmes have wound down. But the pain of the flood
lingers.
     "Life will never be back to normal because I don't have any place to
live and we lost everything," said Assad, 34, as she breast-fed her
3-month-old daughter, Ludina. "Before we used to live day by day, but now
it's worse. I don't know where to get food for the children."
     Assad's mud hut was no match for the floods. She had to move her eight
children into her mother's home nearby, which they share with six
relatives.
     On the banks of the La Quinte, many of the tiny houses have walls
constructed of hard-packed mud fortified by sticks. With no electricity or
running water, residents use candles or oil lamps at night and carry water
in buckets from streams.
     Aid organisations built about 50 4.3-6.5-yard (4-by-6 metre)
concrete-block buildings, at a cost of about $1,000 each, to replace some
of the destroyed mud homes. Scattered along the riverbank, they are
jokingly referred to as "Cite Jeanne."
     But the contractors told residents not to stay inside the simple
structures during high winds, Joseph said.
     A $22 million programme funded by the U.S. Agency for International
Development paid for a revamped canal system designed to help save Gonaives
from a repeat of Jeanne. Along a stretch of the La Quinte near Assad's
home, workers spent five months meticulously building 260 feet (80 metres)
of sturdy riverbank by piling rock, four tiers high, behind wire mesh.
     Tons of garbage -- along with the bodies of some lost storm victims --
were scooped from canals that had not been cleaned in 20 years. The debris
was a critical factor in the flood.
     "It's better now. I have seen how the canals react in a heavy rain,"
Joseph said. "If Jeanne came back, it would be better but we would still
have problems."
     Donor nations pledged $1.3 billion to Haiti after Aristide's departure
but only about 45 percent has been disbursed. Joseph said Gonaives needs
another $22 million to complete the canal work. Residents have pleaded with
CARE to return to finish the job.
     "We don't feel safe, even with all the work done on the river. We had
some rain but not as much rain as Jeanne," said Dorilien Liberis, a wiry
farmer who at 54 has already surpassed Haiti's life expectancy of 53, the
lowest in the Americas.
     "But this is the only land we have, so we have no choice. We have to
stay. We have nowhere to go."