The more enduring tragedy of Haiti

Two weeks ago, 90 percent of the planet could not find Haiti on the map. Two weeks from now, 90 percent of the planet will have forgotten her. Two weeks ago, mothers were feeding their children biscuits made from dirt and cooking oil. Laying them to sleep onto bed-bug infested mats and tattered blankets. The make shift houses, constructed of piled cinder blocks, corrugated steel scrap and whatever else they could scavenge, provided some shelter from the harsh tropical rain but not from the swarms of mosquitoes carrying Dengue Fever, a deadly menace where their only defense is the acrid smoke of burning garbage that hung ever present in the hot, humid tropical air.  Two weeks from now, I can only hope, that they will have that much as the news cycle will have passed her by. And the world will turn its attention elsewhere. And then with out warning, somewhere else, the people who have the least will be beset by another truly horrific occurrence. And the world will come rushing in and slowly fade away. Again. And again.