Camp Obama, home to approximately 10,000 people, was named to draw U.S. attention. Residents said they were often the target of raids by people who believed the camp received special treatmentRichard Mosse for TIME
On Jan. 12, 2010, one of the worst ever earthquakes in the western hemisphere left the Haitian capital of Port-au-Prince in ruins. Four months later, it was a vulnerable collection of jury-rigged tent cities, ill equipped to withstand the brutal rain and winds of the approaching hurricane season. Made of tree-branch poles and plastic sheeting, discarded canvas and corrugated cardboard, found metal and donated supplies, the tent metropolises were set up on hillsides, in front of the presidential palace and on the remains of houses and previous slums. They provided shelter for hundreds of thousands of people who no longer had a permanent place to call home.
TIME commissioned photographer Richard Mosse to explore the tent cities in May 2010. He shot with a wooden 8×10 camera, which conveyed the landscape of the tragedy in a very different way than the news photos that had come out of Haiti until that point.
Text by Jessica Desvarieux / Port-au-Prince and Neil Harris
Camp Obama, home to approximately 10,000 people, was named to draw U.S. attention. Residents said they were often the target of raids by people who believed the camp received special treatmentRichard Mosse for TIMEA program funded by the U.N. and the World Bank was set up to inspect the structures in Delmas 33 to determine if they were safe. Almost four months after the quake, some of the kids in the community were back in schoolRichard Mosse for TIMESites like this abandoned gas station were particularly desirable because the ground does not get muddy when it rainsRichard Mosse for TIMEThe 7.0-magnitude earthquake was centered in Carrefour. The area's canals were filled with trashRichard Mosse for TIMEWhile some of the tents were relatively well equipped, others were vulnerable constructions of sticks and sheetsRichard Mosse for TIMENonprofit groups donated tarps, which could be used to build tentsRichard Mosse for TIMEThe day's washing, in a relatively well-appointed tent in Cité SoleilRichard Mosse for TIMEMany of the homes in Gros Morne slid down the slopes of the valley because they were built without regard to building codesRichard Mosse for TIMEEven some middle-class residents were forced to live in tents. Families faced the agonizing dilemma of whether to place tents under the relative protection of structures that withstood the earthquake, like this garage in Gros Morne, or to avoid them because of the danger of aftershocks Richard Mosse for TIMEAbout 5,000 people live in Gros MorneRichard Mosse for TIMEAny structure not vulnerable to collapse was extremely valuable to the community. This derelict trailer in Caresier Morne L'Hopital, Pétionville, was converted into a schoolRichard Mosse for TIMEThe 35,000 people who set up tents in the park across from the presidential palace thought they would be closest to aid because of the proximity to the ministries and the police, but it was a terrible place to be when it rained. Residents often spent soggy nights awake and standing because they could not lie down in the pooling watersRichard Mosse for TIMEAs the rainy season gathered steam, communities like this one — home to 60,000 — became especially vulnerableRichard Mosse for TIMEThe interior of a tent in PétionvilleRichard Mosse for TIME
