by Susan Romanski, UNV World Food Programme monitor

17 February 2001

San Salvador, El Salvador: Off we went into the sky, in the midst of several Salvadorian volcanoes, to monitor destroyed areas of impossible access because the roads were blocked by landslides. I never expected what was to follow.

When the helicopter landed, I got out, following Alejandro, our Press Officer. It wasn't a few seconds before I was bombarded by women and children hugging me and crying desperately. One after another, women would latch on desperately sharing their pain. And it was just me, not my other male colleagues. Foreigner or not, I am a woman and that is what they related to. None of us expected it, naively because we thought after four days, it was certain that someone would have already spoken to them and assured them that help would follow. But it wasn't the case and honestly, I could have been there hugging the whole day. There were so many scared and sad people. I will never forget that reception.

We walked around and looked at some of their homes, sharing empathy for everything they had lost (which is basically EVERYTHING). I even stopped to visit a woman who had just had her baby the day of the earthquake. She seemed to be doing well.

The kids, especially the young girls, continued to latch on to me and it was all I could do but try to continuously give them attention. Pretty soon I found myself trying to entertain them in any way I could just to get them thinking about something else aside from their misery. While my colleagues got the census of the town and took pictures, I played games with the children.

As the helicopter lifted out of the air, I knew we had to get food to them, anyway, anyhow.

Monday, 19 February 2001
Today the highlight of the day was going back to the town of El llano, this time with food that would help everyone for 15 days. I was excited as we drove down the path to the town -- proud that we were getting food to them, hoping it wasn't so late that they would be upset with us, and selfishly hoping that some of the kids would remember me from Saturday. Well, they certainly did. Half of them came running after us in the car and a couple of crazy boys actually jumped on the back. Getting out of the vehicle, I immediately received lots of smiles and hugs, especially from the little girls. The entire time I was trying to make myself half-way useful during the distribution, I always came back to talking to the kids, sometimes telling them their names in English and sometimes telling them how cute they were. To give them something to do while I was working, I had each of them sign their names on my notebook paper. It is amazing that all the children could sign their names. I have four pages of names and a page of little pictures. They are so incredibly beautiful. Every time I look at another one or try to learn their names I keep thinking how cute they really are.

There was even an older boy of 12 who really made me sad. He was helping out with the distribution by handing bags to the people receiving food and he asked me where I was during the earthquake. He was clearly traumatized by the earthquake, especially because he was alone at home when it happened. His mom was at work and his father was away from the house. He admitted how scared he was. Everyone asked me when I was going to back and play. I really need to go back. The sweetest was when two of the girls came and gave me two little pictures with crayons that they had drawn for me.

Adrian Storbeck UNV/Emergency Officer
When I heard, in some forgotten seminar, that it is precisely in emergencies that planning is essential I understood the words but I still did not perceive the real meaning of that statement. After two earthquakes and the inevitable ensuing chaos, disorganisation, contradictions and the resulting frustration, there is no longer even a remnant of doubt as to what they meant. It is not easy, but when you finally manage to extract yourself from that almost surreal and singular context, and spend the required time to?.. think, and plan, you can end up with the sensation that you are no longer a small lost craft in the middle of a tempest, reacting permanently to uncontrollable events, but a navigator with a set course.