"I just want to cry, but I can't even cry," Sajous told his daughter Thursday. In the previous 48 hours, he had pulled his mother from under the rubble of her home in a destroyed neighborhood in Port-au-Prince and had seen the quake's toll on his 45-year-old sister: a broken leg and a severe burn covering 60 percent of her face. Those traumas -- along with the astounding number of corpses and desperate people in the streets, the thugs Sajous had no doubt would kill him to get his truck, and the smell of decaying flesh -- shook Sajous to the core. He was exhausted and possibly in shock.

When I spoke to Sajous on Saturday morning via Skype, his nerves were still raw, but he was safe at home on Ile a Vache, a 20-square-mile island just off the southern tip of Haiti that was spared damage from the quake. Ile a Vache, French for "Cow Island," was briefly colonized by about 450 freed American slaves nearly 150 years ago. President Abraham Lincoln shipped them there, hoping to prove that both whites and blacks in America would be happier if all the blacks went back to their lands of origin. The experiment failed miserably when smallpox, malaria and other financial disasters struck the colony.

Haiti Coverage on Sphere:

Scene at Hospital in Haiti's Capital Is Nightmarish

Some Haitians See Hand of God in Earthquake

Violence Grows in a Desperate Haiti

Eight years ago, Sajous, who grew up in Haiti but served six years at Fort Bragg, N.C., and spent nearly 20 years in New York, built a tourist resort on Ile a Vache in a setting straight out of Robinson Crusoe. Today, Sajous and his wife run the Abaka Bay Resort with 34 employees and two generators. On Saturday, Sajous was at the resort and on his cell phone with friends in Port-au-Prince, trying desperately to get more medical help to his mother and sister and their families 100 miles away in Port-au-Prince. He was also scrambling to find gasoline, and water and food for himself and his family, the few guests at his resort, and his employees.

Sajous, who speaks English with a heavy influence of Haitian Creole, Spanish and French, talked to Politics Daily about his two-and-a-half-day journey from heaven to hell and back. Some details of his story were provided by Sajous' daughter, Melissa Dietrich, who lives in Franklin, Mich., but is a frequent visitor to the island and writes a blog about it at www.ileavachefoundation.com.

Tuesday, Jan. 12

Sajous left his home in Ile a Vache in late morning, taking the 10-minute boat ride across the bay to the town of Les Cayes on the southern mainland of Haiti, then getting in his truck to head for Toussaint L'Ouverture Airport in Port-au-Prince, where his cousin was arriving from Canada about 3 p.m. The trip is about 100 miles, or four hours, each way.

But this day, he took a 20-minute detour. Before he went to the airport, Sajous took an employee with a broken jaw to a hospital in Port-au-Prince, and he's convinced that errand is why he is alive.

"If we had been on the road 20 minutes earlier, it would have put us in a spot of horrible devastation" when the earthquake hit, Sajous said. "That 20-minute delay saved my life."
The trip to the hospital made Sajous late to the airport, where he arrived about 3:15 p.m. to find his cousin waiting outside. The pair left the airport and had driven about 20 minutes when the quake hit. "It was about 10 [minutes] to 5 when the truck starts jumping and twisting left and right." (He would later tell his daughter the sensation was like riding a bucking bronco.)

Although he had never experienced an earthquake, Sajous figured out fairly quickly what was happening. "We saw a 10-foot crack open up" in the road, he said. "My main concern was to stop the car" and to stand on solid ground. They were in the town of Leogane. "People were coming from everywhere, running down the street, panicking. The aftershocks kept coming," adding to the fear.

After a short time, "We just wanted to get out of the mess. We decided to keep going" southwest, back to Ile a Vache. But after six hours on the road, they ran into so much rubble they had to turn back to Port-au-Prince.

"It was very, very, very, very terrible. There were so many dead in the street . . . so many needed help. It was like a bombed-out area. Kids were crying, there were people with broken legs. The traffic jams . . . there were dead bodies all over. It was really, really scary. People were trying to put the wounded in your car. It was total chaos. I'm still in shock."

Wednesday, Jan. 13

Sajous and his cousin decided to head to the home of a friend of Sajous' in Port-au-Prince, arriving about 2 a.m. Wednesday. "He lives right by the [Haitian National] Palace. . . .When I saw the damage to the palace, I knew all the government institutions were down."

Sajous' friend's home survived, probably because it is made of wood, Sajous said. Aftershocks were frequent in the early-morning hour; at one point, he had counted nine. When dawn broke around 5 a.m., Sajous set out on foot to his sister's home and business several blocks away. The nightmare was unending. "One street I remember, people were just lying down, asking for help."

He found his 45-year-old sister on the street in front of her small restaurant, burned badly on her face and suffering from a broken leg. She had been standing in front of the stove when the quake hit, and a chunk of falling concrete had splashed hot oil on her face. "Everyone around her died."

Sajous' brother was there and uninjured, so Sajous left his sister in his care and headed next to his mother's house in the Canape Vert neighborhood in central Port-au-Prince, again on foot.

Her concrete house had collapsed, trapping her. "We found her feet first," said Sajous. A single cement block was supporting a large section of the house, and it was the only thing that kept her from being crushed. For the next three hours, he and others used their bare hands to dig out the 75-year-old woman.

"She kept saying, 'Don't let me die, don't let me die, don't let me die,' " said Sajous. "She had dirt all over her, so she felt like she was suffocating." Her blood pressure was dangerously low, but she came out alive.

Sajous left his mother and his sister in the street in the care of his brother. "I felt it was better for them to stay in that area," he said. First, the streets in Canape Vert were largely impassable and he could not transport both women on foot. Secondly, he felt they were much likelier to get medical help, water and food where they were. Thirdly, his truck made him a huge target for criminals, and by taking his sister and mother with him, he could be putting them in even greater danger. The Haitian National Penitentiary had been emptied of its prisoners during the quake, and so had many jails.

Sajous described his most frightening time: "I was in the car by myself . . . a group of bad guys were threatening to take my truck. It was a very scary moment." He drove on for 20 to 30 minutes, darting to avoid the gangsters, avoiding meeting their eyes. "I just kept going."

He kept his loaded pistol in a carry-on bag near him. He said he never had to brandish it during the trip, but it gave him comfort just to have it.

Thursday and Friday, Jan. 14-15

Sajous and his cousin drove Thursday toward Ile a Vache. By the time they arrived early Friday morning, they'd been on the road almost 60 hours. Sajous was exhausted and worried -- worried about a possible tsunami hitting his little island, worried about where he would get gas and water and food for his family and employees, worried about his mother and sister, worried about looters, worried about riots, worried that rain might come and make conditions even more intolerable, worried about the tremors that still occasionally shook the ground, worried about how the government was going to dispose of the tens of thousands of corpses.

"The priority to me is getting the dead out. The smell and the diseases are just too dangerous."

He was also impatient for order and organization to be imposed. "Authorities have to set up perimeters and distribution centers." At the same time, he reminded himself, "They can't do everything at once. Everyone is in need."

Saturday, Jan. 16

The tsunami many feared would swamp little Ile de Vache never materialized. No one was more relieved than Sajous' daughter, Melissa Dietrich, who lives with her husband and two daughters in Michigan. Not only are her parents and relatives in Haiti, but five years ago, Melissa Dietrich, her husband Robert and the Choose Life Children's Organization of Haiti helped found a school on Ile a Vache. The Good Samaritan School of Caille Coq was built with the help of 36 missionaries from Gracepoint Fellowship of New York. Today, the school feeds and educates about 100 of the poorest children on Ile a Vache.

Melissa Dietrich writes about the school on a blog. She also used the site to keep missionaries and international guests of the Abaka Bay Resort apprised of the earthquake's impact, relying on her parents and the school administrator for information.

On Wednesday, she wrote:

"I have received various e-mails of people concerned about the school children and my family in Haiti. I wish to pass along the information I have received. It appears the phone lines are not working, but on the island of Ile a Vache my family has access to satellite internet and thus Skype. My mother was able to call me to inform me that it shook violently on the island, but the people in the area where she is are fine. The sea seems very still. I believe as there are no tall buildings on the island everyone is fine.

"Through second hand sources I have found out that . . . the Palace in Port au Prince has collapsed some and the biggest hotel in Haiti in Port au Prince has also collapsed. The radio stations are not functioning. My father was on the road when the earthquake hit and buildings were coming down all around him. He said he was fine, but my mother lost contact with him shortly after. We have yet to hear more news and we continue calling to no avail. Various places have buildings collapsing as there have been about 13 aftershocks of great magnitude. . . . We pray and wait."

On Thursday, Melissa Dietrich wrote:

"I thank God that all my family survived. Although they have all lost their homes and their business, they are alive. They all slept outside for fear of the aftershock and even a tsunami. The fear mingled with the smell of death was paralyzing. My father decided to head back to my mother on the island and witnessed so many bodies that he estimates a death toll of around 200,000.

"Since Ile a Vache and Les Cayes, are relatively untouched it appears there is a mass exodus to the area. This poses its own problems as supplies are already quickly drying up. My husband and I have decided to take action and prepare for what is ahead. We are taking donations to get food to these areas. Please lend a hand and donate to the cause. Make checks and money orders payable to: Choose Life, P.O. Box 250106, Franklin, MI 48025. Thank you, from the bottom of our hearts."

Sunday, Jan. 17

When I spoke by cell phone with the Dietriches in Michigan on Sunday, they said Robert is in the process of leasing a boat, which they will stock with food and water and leave for Ile a Vache from Miami within seven to 14 days. In the meantime, they are soliciting financial donations for the cause at the Choose Life address.

After several attempts, I also reached Sajous on his cell phone Sunday afternoon. He had found a small supply of food and water that he said would last for three or four days. Sounding much calmer than he had the day before, Sajous said lawlessness and rotting corpses were his biggest fears.

"Right now, you don't go anywhere. There are looters with machetes. If you have something to take, they will try to take it." He said he was anxious for the U.S. National Guard to arrive, which he thought would happen Monday.

He said he had found a friend with some medical training to look in on his mother and sister. "They are holding up."

As for himself, he said, "I'm OK. I took a pill for high blood pressure, but I'm OK."

Haiti: Undiscovered Paradise

Today, the thought of vacationing in the devastated country of Haiti seems obscene. But as donations pour in to help rebuild Haiti, perhaps those with means should consider vacationing there in the future. It may be one of the most helpful steps in the long run.

Just five months ago, here's what Conde Nast Traveler magazine said about the island:

"Haiti is not a place you just visit, as Columbus would surely have told you (he shipwrecked there in 1492). It's not a stream into which you just dip a toe. Here, you dive in headlong. It drives you crazy-with love, with anxiety, with desire. You fall into its arms as if it's been waiting forever to receive you. It hasn't. And as with any great unrequited love, Haiti's indifference only makes you crazier for the place." -- From "Love and Haiti" By Amy Wilentz, Conde Nast Traveler Magazine, September 2009.

Tourism is Haiti's future, say many, including rapper Wyclef Jean, a product of Port-au-Prince. "Haiti has culture, it has music, it has white sand beaches that have barely been touched," Wyclef Jean told Traveler magazine. "But nobody knows this yet."

Fernand Sajous has bet his future on that same vision. Eight years ago, he built Abaka Bay Resort on 15 breathtaking acres of beachfront and forest on the car-free Ile a Vache, and he has continued to add amenities. Conde Nast recommended the resort in its fall article on Haiti: "Set right on a white sand beach, the Abaka Bay Resort is run by a personable couple and has airy rooms and a great restaurant (3721-3691; doubles, $85-$100; entrées, $14-$27)." Six reviews at www.tripadvisor.com are largely positive, with comments such as "Picturesque beyond imagination."

But Sajous now could use business, as could all tourist destinations in Haiti.

For photos and information on the Abaka Bay Resort, click here.