Three events occurred at the Kinam that disrupted the routine. I’d escaped Hurricane Isaac’s clutches in Guadeloupe, but the storm steadily progress westwards into the Caribbean Sea and then gradually twisted north west to head directly to Hispaniola. It made landfall at Jacmel, about 35km south west of my hotel. The rain pelt down on the tin and wooden roofs of the hotel and the wind whistled around the corridors, but the staff had carefully tied everything down or carried loose items indoors so apart from a slightly flooded courtyard, the hotel escaped any damage. But as I listened to the wind that night, I could not help to think about the thousands of people already exposed to the open air from the quake, now trying to keep hold of everything they had left, keeping the rain out from any gaps in their canvas, hoping the flood water and the associated mud coming down the steep slopes would not inundate them and ruin those precious belongings. And worst, hoping that no flying debris or mudslides would harm their loved ones.
Alas, twenty four people died that night in Haiti because of the storms. Maybe not the thousands that had been killed in the earthquake, but still more trauma, heartache, and sheer wretchedness for so many in this already beleaguered country.
When I Went To 