"There is actually some good news," says Kuumba Nia, whose wife, Myriame Robinson, is Haitian. Both live in St. Louis. "Well," he says, "good and bad."

It's the story of nearly everyone we spoke with. Some relatives found, others gone or missing. Houses crumbled. Families on the streets.

In the days after the earthquake, the St. Louis Beacon spoke to several Haitian families living in St. Louis, as well as local professors with ties in Haiti.

Recently, we checked in with some of them again.

HOME AWAY FROM HAITI

Like most Haitians in St. Louis, Robinson didn't know anything of the welfare of her family in Haiti. Through texts and e-mails, she learned her father is alive. Her youngest sister is alive, as are her brothers, and one cousin's body was found. But the whereabouts of another sister are still unknown.

"It looks grim," Nia says.

Photos by Dr. Charles Gulas

International forces are still working in Haiti.

But not everything is. On Wednesday, Robinson's close friend and her two children arrived in St. Louis from Haiti and are living with them now. Margarite Dorlus and her two sons, 14 and 10, were living on the streets in Haiti until arriving here.

"We just got them enrolled in school yesterday," Nia says.

The family has been to the states before and Dorlus' husband is still in Haiti. She seems reserved but is acclimating well, Nia says, and her boys have found something all new here.

"The boys like the snow."

Robinson and her friend have been translating for other Haitians coming to St. Louis. Every Saturday at their church, the French-speaking congregation at Kingshighway Baptist Church, they continue collecting donations to send to Haiti.

"And the basement's getting full," Nia says. His house is now, too, and he figures it will be that way for at least six months, but he's not worried. "We'll deal with it."

FOR HIS OWN

In a 28-foot long truck, Charles Dorilus is gathering essentials for his family in Haiti. Dorilus, a St. Louis taxi driver, has already bought mattresses, water, televisions and radios. He still plans to buy rice and food to fill the truck.

Dorilus, who has lived in the United States with his family since 1994, feels like no one else is going to help them. "You have to help your family by your own," he says.

Just after the earthquake, Dorilus had no news of his family in Haiti. Two weeks after the quake, he learned his sister and mother had both died. Now he hears from his brother, who tells him everyone's still living on the street, and that people are being charged for the food others have donated. There's fighting, he hears, and everything's just a mess.

Dorilus has already found someone to drive his truck to Miami, where it will be shipped to Haiti, and he's hoping to fly there himself in the next few weeks and deliver everything to his family members.

While he may be able to provide some things for his father and siblings, Dorilus doesn't know what will happen next in Haiti.

"It's hard to say," he says. "But if the American people leave (things up to) the Haitian people, nothing can be done."

ON THE GROUND

On Wednesday, Frantz Sanon arrived in Haiti.

"I'm in Port-Au-Prince right now," he says.

Sanon, who is the pastor at the French-speaking church, also runs Organization Rome-Haiti and works as CEO of Advance Building Associates in Clayton. That last job may be the most important. While Rome-Haiti has brought in medical professionals, Sanon has drawn up plans for both temporary and permanent housing.

"It's shocking every single day to see how the people are living," he says.

On Tuesday, he expects seven tents to arrive in Gressier, part of Port-Au-Prince. But these aren't just any tents. Each measures 60 by 120 feet, Sanon says, and can house 351 people. By themselves, the tents cost between $5,000 and $7,000, he says, but the total cost is more like $30,000 for "installation and associated items."

Those include a men's and women's bathroom in each tent, a community kitchen and bunk beds.

Sanon plans on staying until the first tents are up, returning to St. Louis and then heading back to Haiti again. With the rainy season approaching, he hopes to get 28 tents total to house nearly 10,000 people, but needs to raise more money through Rome-Haiti to do that.

Even if money is raised to put up those 28 tents, Sanon says that's only one city.

"Our hope is to see that we reach as far as we can."

NOT FORGOTTEN

Returning home from an unexpected extension in his stay in Haiti has been a little surreal.

"Haiti's not quiet," says Dr. Charles Gulas, dean of the school of health professions at Maryville University. "You have roosters, you have people up outside. You know, it's really quiet here."

Dr. Charles Gulas with a patient in Haiti.

Gulas left for Haiti on a staff sabbatical on Jan. 3, to work with Health Volunteers Overseas. He stayed in Deschapelles, Haiti, two hours from Port-Au-Prince. The earthquake both extended his stay and changed the nature of it.

While the first few days after the earthquake were spent doing triage, the students that Gulas was training in a rehabilitation aide training program asked him to resume classes.

They needed their routine back, he says.

On Jan. 24, Gulas left Haiti on a C130 military transport, which landed in Orlando. Since returning to the states, he's thought a lot about his experience and the people in Haiti.

"I have reflected on just the patience of the people and how absolutely strong they were with physical pain."

The necessity for cultural competency also became glaringly apparent. Many Western doctors came to Albert Schweitzer hospital to help and wanted to work around the clock, but they couldn't, Gulas says, because the hospital couldn't keep up.

Gulas saw spinal cord and brain injuries that couldn't be helped given the conditions, then he saw families sent home with their ailing relatives because nothing else could be done.

He also saw patients sitting on the hospital's floors.

"This really bothered me," he says. Finally, a Haitian staff member spoke to him.

"She said, 'being on the floor is bothering you more than it's bothering them. They're happy to be here. They are the lucky ones.'"

Now, back home in St. Louis, Gulas hopes for many things for Haiti -- better coordination of services, a strong government response, the support of the Haitian people

Also, he hopes that people here won't forget.