Far from the capital, off a dusty lane lined with sugarcane, the youngsters from the Leogane Christian orphanage stare wide-eyed at a UN truck, the first to come here since the devastating earthquake.

"These supplies are given to you by the United States. We are coordinating with them," says a solemn Belagaswatta Chandina, the commander of Sri Lanka's contingent of United Nations peacekeepers in Leogane.

"Thank you, thank you," exclaims pastor Jean-Claude Chalier, surrounded by barefoot children.

Located in a remote area of Legoane, the town at the epicentre of the January 12 quake which killed more than 112,000 people across the Caribbean nation, this two-story orphanage is little more than a heap of rubble.

Miraculously most of the children were drying themselves in the sun after having showers when the building collapsed. Not one was killed.

But with the majority of the international aid effort focused on the capital Port-au-Prince, 17 kilometres (10 miles) to the east, the 100 or so survivors have had to look out for themselves since then.

Three employees from the US agency International Crisis Aid have also reached the scene with a lorry full of powdered milk and sheets for shelter.

"We discovered the place yesterday and we alerted the UN," said Pat Bradley, one of the agency's staffers. "This (Leogane) is the worse place I've seen so far."

"We are going to ask the Canadian military to secure the place because we don't want to put orphans at risk if there is looting," he adds.

Around him the children break off from their games and watch curiously as food is handed out.

"I was on the second floor (during the quake) and I ran outside," said Fernande, 12. "Now I sleep over there," she says, pointing to a matress lying on some breeze blocks in the shade of the banana trees.

Behind her, exhausted by the tropical heat, a baby sleeps naked on a filthy sheet.

A Canadian soldier makes a splint for a teenager who spent two days trapped in the ruins before she was rescued by neighbours.

"I came to see if any of the children were sick here," said Nicolas Champagne Leblanc. "There is nothing serious but some of them have injuries to the feet and hands and others are dehydrated."

The UN promises to return and the convoy rolls off. Some supplies are still left in the lorry.

"We are going to distribute the rest to the neighbors otherwise they might try to loot goods from the orphanage," explains one of the so-called Blue Helmets.

A few hundred metres (yards) away, the vehicle stops in the middle of the road, next to houses destroyed in the quake. A crowd forms quickly and the Sri Lankans ask the women and children to form a line, serving the men afterwards.

"Only women work in this country. Men do nothing," said the Sri Lankan commander.

The hand-out begins chaotically. A sea of outstretched hands surrounds the back of the truck; children get bottles of water, hide them and then quickly get back in line, to the amusement of the UN troops.

Water, tinned tuna, biscuits — everything disappears into the hands of people from the village, where 10 people were killed in the earthquake.

"It's good news. We haven't had anything since Tuesday," smiles one mother.

The UN peacekeepers go off to replenish their supplies from the US Marines, who are looking after a stockpile of aid several kilometers away.

An open tin of sardines, wolfed down seconds after being handed out, lies in the sun where a famished dog soon licks at it.

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