When I returned from covering the earthquake in Haiti, there were two key questions that always came up in conversations with friends: Was it horrible? And, Where did you stay?

“Yes, it was horrible. Worse than anyone can imagine,” I always respond, and I go on to describe the deplorable conditions in which I found Haiti -- the loss of life, the human tragedy, the agony of the survivors. Having covered many natural disasters, armed conflicts in Central America and the war in Iraq, I'd have to say it's the worst I've ever witnessed.

When it comes to responding about where I stayed, I don't know whether to laugh or cry. My colleagues and I decided to call it a 10-star hotel, and we could see all of them every night just by opening our eyes.

When the first members of our crew arrived two days after the quake, with no clear place to head, they went to the airport and set up on the front lawn of an adjacent two-story building. That became our work station, our satellite feeding point and our humble abode.

No one in the building complained, so it became sort of the unofficial media center. Soon reporters from all over the world were filing stories out of this building, one of the few in the city that had electricity. The area also was fenced in and guarded, which gave us a sense of protection. On the other side, hundreds of Haitians stared as we worked, and attempted to storm in every time the fence opened to allow the passage of cars.

When night fell, our crew spread out some blankets on the lawn and went to sleep. I chose to sleep in the car with two other people, protecting myself from the elements, or so I thought. But I was not protected from mosquitoes. I literally was attacked. Somewhere in the vicinity of 50 to 60 mosquito bites covered both my arms. The itching was unbearable, but the story must go on. The second night, I put on mosquito repellent and again slept in the car.

Our meals were very similar to war food: granola bars, cereal, canned juice, tuna fish and crackers, Spam. Personal hygiene? Don't ask. In the beginning there was no running water, so you used the restroom at your own risk. It was obvious that this was a group of journalists used to roughing it on the field. After a couple of days of baby-wipe baths, a single shower in the men's bathroom was made available; however, there was no guarantee that the water would run long enough to rinse off the soap, if you happened to find some.

By the third day, a large van arrived from the Dominican Republic with new supplies for us, including some small tents and sleeping bags. They called mine the presidential suite. I shared it with three female producers.

After the Haitian government handed control of the airport over to the U.S. Army, tensions were flaring, and some of the Haitians on the other side of the fence began to jump over, so the U.S. military gave us three hours to pick up our gear and find another place to stay. They could not guarantee our security in these premises any longer.

We then set up shop at a large field near the airport, where most of the search-and-rescue missions from around the world were camped out. My mosquito bites at this point were swollen and infected. A doctor from Puerto Rico was kind enough to treat them with antibiotic ointment and even kinder to allow the women in the group to shower in the makeshift shower stall. The best way to describe the toilet facilities in this camp is like the ones in the beginning of the movie “Slumdog Millionaire.”

Our meals were much improved the last couple of days; the wife of one of our Haitian translators cooked us meals in one of the temporary kitchens set up by rescue teams.

On my last day there, around 6 in the morning while sleeping in the tent, I felt the earth move below me. It was the strongest aftershock to date, 6.1 on the Richter scale. Camping out on a field with a piece of cloth over our heads, we were in no danger, but I did think of the thousands of people out there also sleeping on the ground who probably panicked, remembering the earthquake that changed their lives and their country forever.

The conditions in which we worked were far from the glamorous world that most people imagine surrounds the  
network-news business. But it was nothing compared with the nightmare that the Haitians had to endure and will continue to endure for some time to come. After covering Haiti, I'm ready to deal with any adverse situation.

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(Maria Elena Salinas is the author of “I AM MY FATHER'S DAUGHTER: LIVING A LIFE WITHOUT SECRETS.” Reach her at www .mariaesalinas.com)

© 2010 by Maria Elena Salinas

Distributed by King Features Syndicate