Some twenty of the estimated three hundred camps are in grave danger from flood waters as they are located on or at the bottom of steep hills. The danger is greatest is said to be “red” camps, a UN designation for those camps most at risk for flooding. The largest of the “red” camps is the so-called “golf course” camp, formerly secured by the American 86th Airbone, on the grounds of the Petionville Club, a private golf course that is now home to an estimated 60,000 Haitians. The essential services at the camp are housed in the ravine at the bottom of the hill, the area most likely to be over-run by water streaming down the slope of the golf course, which, like much of Haiti, has been largely stripped of its trees, this time by the refugees themselves. It is thought that here heavy rains could kill 5,000 people.

Although UN officials have publicly spoken to the dangers of the camps, to this point nothing has been done to move the resident’s of the “golf course.” Lacking adequate sanitary facilities, garbage is piled up in mounds and burned, and human waste is collected in pans and thrown out in the mornings, often all too near the tents themselves. The stench from the camp farther up in Petionville’s central square, formerly the site of outdoor movie projections, but now completely covered with makeshift shelters makes walking down the streets almost unbearable. Indeed, much of Port au Prince’s once public space in now completely covered in shelters, from the sprawling Camp Piste at the foot of Delmas, to the Champ de Mars across from the wounded Presidential Palace. Most soccer fields are occupied as well. And the fear is that the longer the situation remains, the greater possibility that the camps will become permanent, making the 40,000 strong Camp Piste, which like the rest of Port au Prince has no sewer system and little infrastructure, another Cite Soleil, requiring long-term assistance from the UN and international NGOs. As Richard Morse points out in his blog in the
Huffington Post the living conditions are far from new in Haiti. There are no sewer systems in Port au Prince, and many of the residents of the camps were living in structures of tin or concrete before the earthquake. He argues that it was relatively easy for them to adapt to living in the camps. And with a somewhat sure supply of water, and food, for the moment, to be had, what incentive to leave?

Part of the issue is ownership of the land, as many of the “slum” dwellings that collapsed in the hills of Port au Prince were built illegally, on private property. Even if housing were to be created in Port au Prince, the question of where to put the housing is moot. An architect with offices in Port au Prince suggested that the Venezuelan model, in which the country gave peasants deeds to land, might in fact be the best model for Haiti. By allowing Haitians to have land, and to perhaps give them low-interest loans and assistance in building simple homes, it might be possible to reconstruct Port au Prince, while hopefully encouraging others to leave to city and take residence in the countryside. Although environmentally challenged, Haiti still manages to produce a prodigious amount of food, as evidenced by the “te marchen,” or small merchants, who were quick to return to the streets of the capitol after the earthquake.

Where the land for the poor might come from is a question as elusive as the question of an election scheduled to take place later this year. Preval has said that he wants to remain in office into the resources are allocated. Critics have said that he represents the culture of patronage and corruption that led to the current crisis in Haiti.

Its hopeful that the groundwork will be laid for making the important decisions in a meeting Wednesday of the donor nations, who must decide how to spend an estimated 3.1 billion US dollars that have already been pledged for the next 18 months. But Morse, among others,
himself questions whether those who have already failed Haiti can be expected to carry the lead in rebuilding the country. And for many in the refugee camps, change needs to be made sooner rather than later. As one resident of the Petionville “golf course” camp, Jacques Joseph, 31, told me last month while gesturing at the steep hills of the golf course, “the rain won’t wait, and when it comes much of this may be gone.”