As she prepared to depart for Haiti on assignment for The Times, Maggie Steber wrote this reflection on the country’s recent history. Her portfolio shows moments of joy as well as desperation and grief. Aperture published her book, “Dancing on Fire: Photographs from Haiti” in 1992. She has won top awards from World Press Photo and Pictures of the Year International. Her work appears regularly in National Geographic.
Maggie Steber On the salt flats outside Gonaives, Haiti. 1987.For more than 20 years, I have worked in Haiti covering news, going when it was peaceful, falling in love with this tortured, enchanted place.
It’s so hard to imagine that anything more can happen to this tiny country, so haunted by violent history. At its remarkable birth, slaves overthrew their French masters and created the world’s first black republic — something for which Haitians have seemingly been punished for more than 200 years.
Haiti is dreamlike, magical, evil, heavenly. It seems as though the fates pointed to Haiti and decided this is where they would put the portal between paradise and hell. Everything — everything — is one or the other. Nothing, not one part of life, lies in between. It is a life of extremes. Yet one cannot leave it alone.
We journalists go because of the news, but some of us are drawn beyond that. Haiti has lessons to teach us about many things. But no matter how close we think we can get, all we really do is press our noses against a window through which we peer at these remarkable Haitians and their spirit of survival.
And this? This is too much.
How can nature or God or the fates or the universe do this to a country that has borne far too much sadness? An earthquake has now devastated the capital; claiming lives, hopes and the pitifully small dreams that people have held on to, despite political violence, unimaginable poverty, disease, corruption, dictators and nature’s full force of four hurricanes in a row.
As the people in Haiti are, I am heartbroken by this event. I am crushed.
Coverage of the Earthquake on Lens
Wednesday, Jan. 13: Behind the Scenes: There for the Quake. Before Tuesday, Tequila Minsky was known in Lower Manhattan as an enterprising freelancer. With her pictures from Haiti just after the quake, she engaged the world.
Friday, Jan. 15: On Assignment: Prayers in the Dark. Among Damon Winter’s first impressions after his arrival in Port-au-Prince was the sound of singing and praying through the night, punctuated by screams during tremors.
Saturday, Jan. 16: From the Archive: Haiti, Alive. Images of 20th-century Haiti from the archives of the National Geographic Society and The New York Times speak to the country’s beauty and its seemingly unending misery.
Sunday, Jan. 17: On Assignment: Where Is the Help? Damon Winter is constantly being asked that question by the people of Haiti. Powerless to answer, having seen only one food line in five days, he wonders the same thing himself.
Monday, Jan. 18: On Assignment: Katrina Many Times Over. Michael Appleton, a veteran conflict photographer, sees less violence than during the 2004 coup, but says any comparison to Katrina must be magnified many, many times.
Tuesday, Jan. 19: On Assignment: “Silence and Submission.” Ron Haviv of the VII agency has been to Haiti at least 15 times. On arrival last week, he felt something new: the “overwhelming power of silence and submission.”
Tuesday, Jan. 19: Essay: Prison Break. With the 4,000 inmates all gone — they escaped or died during the quake — Damon Winter was able to portray the inside of the Civil Prison of Port-au-Prince, a view few people have ever had.
Wednesday, Jan. 20: Behind the Scenes: A Doomed Classroom. In 2009, Peter Pereira photographed a school near Carrefour, Haiti. The building was destroyed last week. His pictures are now being used to benefit victims.
Thursday, Jan. 21: Essay: A Culture in Jeopardy, Too. In a personal reflection, Maggie Steber describes how Haiti’s resilient people have begun rebounding after 10 days but how much more — its cultural identity — may be endangered.
Comments are no longer being accepted.