Common Language Project: Multimedia that Matters

Day Twelve: The Delicate Balance

By Grant Fuller February 16, 2010

Before I came to Haiti, I had no idea what to expect. The image you get from the outside is of a completely destroyed wasteland where the most basic needs are nowhere to be found. No food and water, no electricity, no medical supplies, no nothing. Then, of course, you get here and realize the image in your head was a bit exaggerated. Yes, it’s a disaster zone and yes, people are struggling. But that suitcase full of bottled water, beans, and camping gear that I (perhaps naively) lugged over here hasn’t been the necessity I thought it might be.

But that suitcase wasn’t just full of stuff to keep myself alive. Friends in Mexico City gave me a hefty load of goods to give away to Haitians who might need them. Diapers, granola bars, beans, tuna, rubbing alcohol, bandages, baby powder, canned vegetables, packaged meat, and yes … a huge bag full of maxi pads.

As I move around Port-au-Prince, I look for opportunities to toss a little help someone’s way. A kid pressing his puppy-dog face against my car window. A local UN employee who swears he’s hungry and has never begged before. Interview subjects who share their stories without expecting anything in return. As a journalist, this is where it gets interesting. If I give a little care package to an interview subject, it technically breaks a fundamental rule from journalism 101: Don’t trade money or favors for interviews.

But for me, in this situation, it’s a rule I’m happy to break. After a recent interview that went longer than expected, my Haitian interpreter suggested that I probably owed the man some money for his time and willingness to put up with so many questions. I balked, of course, my journalistic instincts kicking in and saying no, no, no, no. But hey, I said, I’ve got a whole backpack full of food right here. I’ve seen his bare tin shack and I can guarantee the five bucks a day he makes doesn’t always make ends meet. Why don’t I just give the guy some food? So I did. But almost immediately he said, “Thank you so much. I’ll give it to the kids that come by.” Sigh. Well, as long as it gets to someone who needs it.

Today, I gave a bunch of diapers and snacks to a family living in a hastily constructed shack on the side of the road. I’d been interviewing the father, who’s responsible for feeding his five children, five brothers and his wife with any little odd-job money he can find each day. I think the diapers may have swallowed the 2-week-old baby, but I guess she’ll grow. The granola bars, on the other hand, were a huge hit. They tried to hide it and wait a few minutes, but soon their hunger took over as the mother busted into the bag, pulling out one granola bar per person. While empty spaghetti packs from yesterday’s only meal were left strewn about the dirt-floor kitchen, the family ate slowly, as if to savor every bite and make it last as long as possible.

Sometimes the hard and fast rules of journalism need to loosen up in the face of life’s realities. I’m under no illusion that I’m saving lives or changing lives here. Simply put, my mental approach to this trip is as a human being first, reporter second. Now if I can just find somewhere to get rid of all these maxi pads…