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Haiti earthquake relief is stifled by chaos in Port-au-Prince


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In the city's center, at the sprawling tent cities by the destroyed National Palace, residents said they had not seen a single international aid group distribute food in five days.
"I have been here every day. I heard they gave away some food but there was a riot," said Jean Marie Magarette, who was camping with her mother, sister and four children. "If you tell me they have been giving out food, I will believe you, but we have been on this spot since the day of the earthquake, and we have not seen anyone give away anything but water."
Trying to speed up the effort, President René Préval met with his Dominican counterpart and agreed to create a humanitarian corridor stretching from an airport and ship harbor in the western Dominican Republic into neighboring Haiti.
But relief remained agonizingly slow to get here. Across the capital, painted signs calling for help multiplied: "We need help," said one. "We need food, water, medical," said another.
Caring for the orphans
Officials were only beginning to cope with the challenge of caring for children separated from their parents, who in many cases died in the quake.
Nearly half of Haiti's population is younger than 18 years old. Even in better times, many of this country's youth are in desperate need of aid. In Haiti, where malnutrition is not uncommon, one in four children is reported to have a low birthweight, according to UNICEF.
A spokeswoman for the agency, Tamar Hahn, said UNICEF was seeking to set up a facility for children separated from their parents. Already, clinics around Port-au-Prince are starting to grapple with what to do with children they have treated who arrived unaccompanied by a parent.
As Hahn approached a field hospital near the airport Monday, she was met by Karen Schneider, a pediatric emergency doctor from Johns Hopkins University.
"Did you find us parents for our kids?" Schneider demanded.
Five unaccompanied children had been brought by rescuers to the clinic, run by the University of Miami-based charity Project Medishare. One, an 8-year-old boy named Jonas, curled up in a ball on the ground and cried for his parents for two days, Schneider said.
"We realized he must have seen the bodies," she said.
On another cot was a 2-year-old girl in a diaper, covered with bloody scratches.







