海角大神

Haiti earthquake diary: Eyewitness to a Miami-Dade team rescue

Five days after the Haiti quake, a Miami-Dade County rescue team digs into a collapsed home, attempting to pull three children out.

Sunday, Jan. 17

It鈥檚 about 4 p.m. as I head back toward the hotel. I decide to stop by the site of the former Citibank, just to see if anyone there now knows what happened to the woman who was directing her own rescue the night after the quake. I鈥檓 hoping for good news.

The site looks pretty much like it did on Wednesday, only there are international rescue workers here now. A young woman approaches me.

There is someone trapped in a house nearby, she says. She鈥檚 young, earnest, and pleads with me to bring help. She鈥檚 calm, level-headed, and I believe her. I approach the rescue squad, which is from Mexico, and one of the men says he will come with me to check it out.

We drive down Delmas 30, turn left on rue Charlemagne, and go halfway down the block to where a crowd of people has gathered. We run down the alley to a house in the back, climb up the rubble onto the roof of another building, and now we are directly in front of the collapsed home.

There are two Brazilian television crews here, and a bunch of curious Haitians. The Brazilians say they captured the sound of a girl鈥檚 voice on their microphone. The Mexican rescue worker asks everyone to be quiet.

One of the Haitians taps on a wall of the house. Someone inside taps back.

I鈥檓 breathless. It鈥檚 Sunday night, five days after the quake, and there鈥檚 someone alive inside and I鈥檓 about, I hope, to witness this survivor's rescue. My legs are weak.

The Mexican man starts to remove large chunks of rubble from the hole that seems to have the most immediate access. Meanwhile, I send the girl who found me back to the Citibank site with my driver to see if she can get more Mexican rescuers to help.

She returns 10 minutes later empty-handed. But the Brazilians bring back a rescue team that flew in from Florida's Miami-Dade County two days after the quake, and suddenly things get very serious.

They have two dogs with them, and although we all insist that this isn鈥檛 a wild-goose chase, they basically order the Mexican to stand down. It鈥檚 too dangerous, they tell him, to continue doing what he鈥檚 doing without bracing another section of the house. They send in their dogs to do the initial search.

The dog enters the site where part of the third-floor bedroom is visible. A Haitian, Max, who has been standing with us on the roof, says that is his bed. He was lying on it with his wife when the earthquake started. There is a drawer from a chest of drawers visible, one on the top of the bed, a baby crib, school notebooks, a water pump.

I feel Max鈥檚 impatience, watching the dogs, holding my breath.

The dog will determine for the rescue team whether the tap 鈥� and the voice that we heard 鈥� are legitimate. It seems like a waste of valuable time but I know these guys are professional, that their safety is first, and so along with everyone else, I just wait.

There are about a dozen guys wearing the blue T-shirts that say Miami-Dade Urban Search and Rescue Team. They鈥檝e been here since Thursday, rescued 15 people so far. Just before getting to this site, one of them tells me they just rescued a 3-year-old. A few of them speak Creole. Two of them look vaguely familiar, I can't quite place the faces.

The first dog comes back and the second dog goes down. The Mexican is upset, tries to talk to the Americans, but they aren鈥檛 interested.

I鈥檓 biting my tongue. I know they have protocol, but I feel the same angst I felt yesterday when I had the 2-month old on my lap and I was afraid that every minute I spent in the car trying to get her to the hospital was a minute too long.

What is the dog doing? She appears to be anxious, running in and out of openings, pawing as if she wants to go right through the cement wall. I think that鈥檚 what the Mexican wants to do, too. And the rest of us, for that matter.

Finally, the dog barks. That鈥檚 it. Confirmation.

The guys from Miami swing into action. Some are up high on a another roof, some are down low, some are in the back of the house. They each seem to have a job. The dog handlers seem pleased 鈥� turns out it鈥檚 Vegas鈥檚 first rescue, and her handler, Frank Garcia, is delighted with her performance.

The dogs are taught to bark when they come upon a live body that鈥檚 trapped. Without that bark, the team won鈥檛 go in. Too many people, explains another dog handler, Gregory Strickland, desperate to find loved ones, swear that they hear family members days later just because they don鈥檛 want to give up hope. His dog, Indy, has been doing this for 19 months.

When I hear another crew member call the Creole speaker 鈥淒octor,鈥� I realize that the first face I can鈥檛 place is Rudy Moise, a well-known Haitian-American doctor and activist in Miami, a man I鈥檝e met many times before. The other man is Florida Congressman Kendrick Meek. He鈥檇 been so moved by what the rescue team was doing that he jumped on a plane in order to witness what was going on and bring whatever resources he could.

The rescue team works slowly. People on the roof tell us there are three people trapped: a 14-year-old girl, Frangina; 7-year-old Nazer, and 5-year-old Kevin. They鈥檙e not related. They were all living in the house, and watching TV at the time of the quake.

Nazer鈥檚 mother is on the street outside the house with 3-year-old Ricky, who she was able to grab when the house fell. Nazer ran back inside.

Kevin鈥檚 parents are in the States.

The rescue team works slowly, trying various strategies to get close to where they think the three are trapped. Finally, they are close enough to get a camera in and see movements from a girl鈥檚 hand.

Hearing that breathes a new life into the crowd. This is not a voyeur鈥檚 trip. It鈥檚 the real thing, as close as I have ever gotten, or want to get, to a life-or-death rescue. The scene is surreal. They now have the lights focused on the house, the generator is powering the tools, and the energize crowd suddenly erupts with a cheer.

Shortly before 10:00 p.m., they are ready to go in. Nearly six hours have passed since I arrived, and I barely notice.

Nazer, the 7-year old, comes out first. It鈥檚 dramatic. They have him on an improvised stretcher. I stay out of the way as a whole fleet of people attend to him. When I finally get a look, I can see he鈥檚 bone thin, skeletal like. But smiling. He points to his tooth, says he cracked it, as though that was the worst thing that happened. He even smiles.

But not so with Frangina, the teenager. She learns, as she鈥檚 pulled out, that little Kevin has died. She鈥檚 wailing, saying over and over again that she couldn鈥檛 see him.

She must have been trapped in such a way that he was behind her and that she was only talking to Nazer all along, not Kevin, too. Her pain pierces me. She鈥檚 so distraught that it鈥檚 hard to feel complete joy at her release.

Out of respect for Kevin and his family, the rescue team doesn鈥檛 extract his body while the crowd is on the roof. We wait for the rescuers to take Frangina and Nazer to the vehicles below before we go down ourselves. Frangina has grown quiet.

In contrast Nazer smiles, gives a thumbs up, and the vehicles drive away.

---- For all stories, blogs, and updates on Haiti after the earthquake, go to The Monitor's Haiti page.