In Italy, earthquake survivors struggle to make a tent city feel like home

The laboratory where her husband worked with marble and other types of stone was so damaged that it is closed indefinitely.

The top floor of their home, which is about a mile outside of L'Aquila in the hills, crumbled into the floors below. The police and fire brigades have allowed her to see it once, but now it is strictly off limits.

"At the moment, you can't go near the house. We have to wait for other checks to see if it can be rebuilt," she says.

The dislocation has taken a toll on the family. Jessica, the toddler, was walking and talking before the quake hit. Now, she does neither.

Irma, the grandmother, suffers from the heat. The blue tents magnify the sun, so she spends much of the day sitting outside in her wheelchair in what little shade she can find.

The temperatures, which can vary from very hot during the day to cold at night, are problems the camp officials are well aware of.

"We hope to put a kind of cooling unit in each tent," says Cpt. Marco Venturoligin, head of the camp operations. "We are also going to put a large tarp over some of the public areas."

The short-term goal is to have temporary, prefabricated homes ready by the end of September to replace the tent encampment before the bitter cold of winter comes.

Meanwhile, Captain Venturoligin calls this camp "a kind of a window on the situation here."

Not easy for volunteers, either

People are doing their best to live as normal a life as possible. More than 300 volunteers from around Italy try to make that possible, working in the makeshift schools, medical center, and churches that have set up shop within the camp.

Luca Curti came from a town in the north near Bologna. He works for Civil Protection and is seasoned in dealing with earthquake survivors.

"It takes patience; they've been traumatized and are very emotional," he says. In his pocket, he carries a little stuffed toy that was given to him by one of the children he helped rescue from a school during the 2002 earthquake in San Giuliano. The injured child later died.

"When I think about it, I get tears in my eyes," he says.

But it also helps remind him of the importance of making sure the people here, especially the children, get everything they need – including some fun.

On a recent afternoon, Civil Protection gave out kites to the children, many of whom ran through the camp holding them as high as they could.

Many of the displaced adults are also using humor to bring a sense of normality to their lives.

Walter Pagliaro lived his whole life one mile from the center of town. His house was totally destroyed. He believes it will take at least 20 years for the town to be rebuilt, and then, he says with a smile, "We will be old!" In the meantime, he's set potted plants outside of his tent and planted a small garden.

"For me, my life as I knew it is dead, so I'm growing tomatoes to give life," he says.

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