By virtually all reports, efforts to rescue those still trapped in the rubble of Tuesday's earthquake in Haiti or relief supplies to homeless survivors living in the streets of Port-au-Prince and beyond, remain disappointing.

Meanwhile, the level of frustration is rising in the island nation, and with it, fears of increasing violence.

NPR.org's Scott Neumann compiled some of the reporting done by NPR reporters on the ground in Haiti. An excerpt:

Desperately needed aid — including food and water — was pouring Saturday into quake-ravaged Haiti, but the airport in the capital Port-au-Prince continued to be log-jammed as dozens of aid organizations struggled to deliver supplies to fraught survivors.

The difficulties in delivering supplies raised concern among aid workers that frustration could turn to lawlessness in the streets.

As tensions mount in Haiti, President Obama planned to meet Saturday morning at the White House with two former presidents — George W. Bush and Bill Clinton — to discuss ways more Americans can help in the island nation's recovery and rebuilding.

But that task is daunting. Obstacles to Haiti's recovery include:

Estimates from the Red Cross put the number of dead between 45,000 and 50,000 following Tuesday's magnitude-7.0 earthquake. But the real number is anyone's guess

"If the government still exists and the United Nations is around, I hope they can help us get the bodies out," said Sherine Pierre, a 21-year-old communications student whose sister died when her house collapsed.

 

While survivors continue to be pulled from the rubble, thousands of bodies were being placed into mass graves or left unclaimed in the streets.

NPR's Carrie Kahn described the scene at a morgue in the capital. "The morgue building isn't that big, but the inside is full of bodies and then there are bodies on the outside and around the building," she says. Authorities are "taking all the bodies they can to a common gravesite outside of Port-au-Prince."

"There are still many people, it's unclear how many, trapped inside the rubble who are still alive," NPR correspondent Jason Beaubien in Port-au-Prince tells Weekend Edition Saturday.

"People say they're hearing them. People are bringing crews in to try to get them out. People are trying to pull them out themselves," Beaubien says.

As bodies piled up, the relief effort has reached an impasse as blocked roads, congestion at the airport, limited equipment and other obstacles have conspired to come between the aid and the needy.

"There's very much a sense that the government has collapsed," Beaubien says.

U.N. peacekeepers patrolling the capital said popular anger was rising and warned aid convoys to add security to guard against looting.

The desperation has already turned to violence in some places. A water delivery truck driver says he was attacked in one of the city's slums. There were also reports of machete-wielding young men in the streets and isolated incidents of looting.

Beaubien reports sporadic gunshots in the capital and few police on the streets.

"There's been looting. That's happening at the same time that people are legitimately trying to get into their homes and dig out their belongings there. It's very chaotic. There's no sense that there's the hand of the law or the hand of authority over most of the Haitian capital right now," he says.

As I wrote at the top of the post, virtually all the reportage takes the same the same tone. The Port-au-Prince airport is choked with aid workers and relief which can't get out to the survivors because of damage to roads and rubble-strewn streets.

The New York Times reports:

An immense relief operation was under way, with cargo planes and military helicopters buzzing over the crowded Toussaint Louverture International Airport. But four days after the earthquake struck, with many cries for help going silent, not nearly enough search and rescue teams or emergency supplies could make it here. The United Nations said it had fed 8,000 people, while two million to three million people remained in dire need.

Patience was wearing thin, and reports of looting increased, as another day went by with no power and limited fresh water.

"For the moment, this is anarchy," said Adolphe Reynald, a top aide to the mayor of Port-au-Prince, as he supervised a makeshift first aid center that was registering long lines of wounded people but had no medicine to treat them. "There's nothing we can do. We're out here to show that we care, that we're suffering along with them."