Haiti 06: Beach Day

I almost didn't make it back to Port au Prince yesterday. Why? Because it was Beach Day.

There had been talk around the Leogane base that there was going to be a trip to the beach soon. Being from Toronto I was non-committal in my enthusiasm for the outing so between my social aloofness and less than firm grasp of the nuances of Kreole - I expect a few key points of information were lost on me.

The sun rises at a little after 5am here so the sounds of showering and Frederaline's cell phone (Chipmunk's singing some unidentifiable Destiny's Child song) sounding in the dark had me confused before my eyes were open. As I'm usually first in the shower and Frederaline - our awesome housekeeper who is the sternest Kreole instructor - usually doesn't show up until 6:30, I decided to roll out of bed, slide my flip flops on and investigate.

The dormitory - as far as I could tell - was in full evacuation mode. There did not appear to be a crisis or imminent danger as the evacuees were dressed to the nines, wore bright, expectant smiles on their faces and why were there so many children around? "Nous prel aller nager! (We are going swimming!)" The staff had in fact been serious about making good on the water cooler chat regarding this trip. Enjoy! Bon journe! And into the shower I stepped to begin my day looking forward to being productive and solo in the office.

My plan started to unravel about halfway into my shower as the stream of water thinned then dribbled to a halt. I toweled off and shuffled into my room to throw on some modesty and inform my dorm mates that something was up with the water supply. This news was not surprising to the office manager Daphne as she was the one who turned it off - along with the power (leaving my morning coffee half brewed) and in five minutes the office would be locked for the weekend; my computer, all drawings and materials to be delivered to various sites that day included. Geez. Glad I woke up.

At 5:15 I scrambled to pack up our office and load the Land Cruiser while sipping coffee, eating cereal, packing my personal effects and trying to Skype Laura before the rest of the staff vacated the premises. The Haitian contingent - motivated by the prospect of a paid day at the beach - was putting me to shame in terms of logistics as twenty people stood by their vehicles waiting for me to pack and scramble my way to the exit. A two-year old with a sweet head of short braids and multicoloured bobble berets took pity on me and did "good sharing" by offering me one of her two soggy cheese crackers to eat. I accepted and gingerly wolfed down the offering as we sped out of the compound - the staff made for the sea while Samuel and I headed off for a day of 4x4 rodeo from site to site before commuting back to Port au Prince 8hrs later - without a stitch of office work to our credit.

Another Road Side Attraction

Haiti 05: Mes Chambres

I divide my time between two cities in Haiti. I work from Monday to Friday in Leogane, about 35km to the west of Port au Prince. My weekends begin after a 1.5 to 3hr commute through streets filled with all manner of conveyance, commerce, refuse, restaurant and the people who make these things happen - looking anywhere from destitute to immaculate. It is surreal to climb up out of Port au Prince into the more affluent suburb of Petionville - leaving behind the vibrant and sometimes harrowing city scenes - to arrive at our house (read mansion) in Mont Calvert.

My room in this house is larger than any room in mine at home. It has a king size bed and windows that look out over the brick paved terrace and empty pool to all of Port au Prince beyond and way below. This view has of few parallels that come to mind. At night it reminds me of Vancouver - looking toward North Van and the lights of Grouss Mountain are similar to the massive settlement (read slum) of Corail Cesselesse situated on the slopes of the foothills to the northeast of PAP. The lights of the city below make the vista tres Hollywood Hills. At 5am I can crack an eye open to be filled with a sky full of grey-pink sunrise filtered through two big x's of hurricane tape - melted to the glass. I am on the lookout for a razor blade to scrape these off so I can watch the dawn transition into the day through orange to lemon to blue without the earthly/edgy point of reference.

PAP Beyond

I am happy to spend an entire Saturday reading in this room and venturing to the kitchen for a snack or two. I've yet to practice yoga at the house where there are many inspiring locations to chose from - three balconies and lots of roof space. As recurring aches and pains from old hockey injuries and a pain in my hip that I suspect is hereditary mount I promise you readers that I will complete my 60min. Hot Hatha Flow class by 10am Saturday (I'll follow up to confirm completion).

Leogane Cell

I did manage a hopeful and pain-filled session yesterday in my room in Leogane between Shane's bed and mine - which is a feat I assure you. Our room in Leogane is 8'x 12' with two single beds festooned with mosquito nets. That leaves 18" between beds to complete the thankfully linear oriented series of asanas (postures). My hip still hurts but I am bouyed by the prospect of returning to such a positive and grounding practice here in Haiti. This room is located in the women's dorm (?!) of our base in Leogane - replete with massive equipment hangers, concertina wire-topped walls, mogul-lawns (see photo), shotgun totting security guards and two house keepers who correct my Kreole in a cocaphany of syncopated rounds of encouragement until I get it right.

Lawnmower with Adapter Required.

Leogane is low-lying coastal jungle so it's hot and muggy with as many mosquitos as you could ever reasonbly hope for. Shane and I used to share one fan so our night's would pass in oscillations of heat and breezy relief (read menopausal) with whining accompaniment of the one mosquito that has spontaneously manifested itself within the sanctuary of the netting. Luxury of luxuries we have hit on bringing our office fan in to our sleeping cell so quality of life is improving in Leogane for all.

The sweetest sleeps by far (as related below) are had in Embouchure.

Haiti 04: M'ap Boule

I awoke the next morning at five thirty in the morning completely refreshed after 10 hrs of sleep beautifully set up by a bath in the river that washed away the heat and excitement of the day that would have made sleep impossible.

After the soccer match we walked down to the river through the dark, wary of a tarantula that Shane had seen on the path earlier. The river was muddy from the day's rain so we walked up stream to a tributary with fresh clear water cascading in shallow steps. A half moon and stars illuminated the stream and jungle edges with magic; the sound of frogs and insects calling out to each other in this perfect place completely grounded me where I stood while my whole being reached out to connect with Laura, our love and the life and dreams we share. I wished for a temporary collapse in the space between us so we could share this place together for a while.

This lack of man-made bathing infrastructure that had been related to me by a colleague as a quaint inconvenience of the site was transformed by its sublime, raw, elemental nature into a timeless human experience. I reluctantly dried off and walked back towards the school and the light, pleasant sleep that awaited.

Breakfast

After our breakfast of hot chocolate, bread and fire roasted corn on the cob - which we took after conversing with some boys leading sand bearing donkeys who traded us fruit for bits of our Clif Bars (which we later found cast aside on the river bank) and a final review and coordination of work to be done on site - we dropped by Madame Luke's cabin to say goodbye. Here we got to see Iseya and hand him the Kreyol - English translation sheet as promised and were entreated by him to return soon - a request I hope to fulfill shortly.

The cash for work program is a part of the overall project where people who live in the area provide day labor in two week rotations so anyone who is willing and able can take advantage of accessing temporary employment. Today's staff may have done well to stay in bed as a delivery of plywood and varnish had to be transported in to the site - by hand over the route to Embouchure previously described. I started to appreciate the response "M'ap Boule!" more and more as we crossed paths with men carrying two sheets of 1/2" plywood on their heads - huge smiles from faces dripping with sweat and a singing "M'ap Boule!" (I am burning!) before continuing on back to the school at Embouchure.

Plywood Trekking

The sun was out as we changed into our boots climbed up from the river into the foothills - our Haitian engineer Elisca and his friend having left us in the dust stood waving encouragement from a distant hilltop - as the day started to heat up. I marveled at the landscape and the building heat and stopped often to take photos and rest from the climb. I was soon singing out my reply to passersby with new understanding M'ap Boule!

Resting.

At just about the end of our climb an old woman and her son who was escorting her down the slope raised her arms and shouted at us enthusiastically - thanking us for coming to her country to help out. Big hugs and big smiles all around we continued on to finish the hike, waited for Samuel who arrived right on time to take us back to Leogane and our afternoon meeting in Port au Prince beyond.

Haiti 03: M'ap Boule!

Embouchure is set at the junction of rivers where a weekly farmers market happens on Tuesdays. The pre-exisitng church was irreparably damaged during last year's earthquake and we are participating in the rebuilding of two schools on that site; the larger of the building's will be used for church sevices on Sundays. The setting is breathtaking.

When Shane and I arrived we were greeted by a group of people sitting in front of the temporary school near the river bank, just down from Madame Luke's house (Madame Luke because she's married to a guy named Luke). Among them, the school principle, his serious/studious looking son, some local for-cash workers on the project and a few children. All of them knew Shane - who is convinced he was born in Haiti - and greeted him warmly and smiled encouragingly as I assaulted them with my clumsy Kreole greetings.

Up to the school buildings where we reviewed the almost complete first building and checked out the frame of the second. Awesome workmanship. The buildings are meticulously constructed and sturdy as you would expect a school constructed by people who will be sending their children to learn and play in.

Building 2 from Roof of Building 1

We would be sleeping in the school house number one tonight so we positioned our cots in spots where the rain wasn't dripping through the plywood of the un-roofed roof making for a choatic arrangement of beds, cots and bunk-scaffolding. Thus arranged we headed out to explore Embouchure. 

Kokoye

We first enjoyed a fresh coconut ("kokoye"/never "koko") in Madame Luke's house while being watched (openily stared down) by the beautiful kids hanging around. It takes several tries to get a kid to crack open to conversation but the effort is well worth it.

Bonjou! (Good Day) Nothing.
Kouman ou ye? (How are you?) Tilt of the head.
Ti moun, pas cap pale? (Little person, can't you speak?) Homour and a little fierce intensity brew in the eyes.
The next question should be about another person in the area or the school so they know you are "local" then watch out.

Polite answers to our questions turn into questions of their own which in turn becomes a torrent of inquiry into where we are from, how many children do we have (how many wives), do we own the helicopter that flew the trusses in, are we aviators? can we buy them a bicycle? can I come home with you (my parents would be very happy)? can you write English on paper for me so I can learn to read it? 

That interview we had on the hillside with a boy named Iseya who was walking his cow home for the evening and engaged us with bright, well considered questions delivered as if by point blank cannon. Gesturing expansively on the path switch-back with Shane and I and two younger kids his participating audience. 

Kids are not afraid to tell you you are doing something wrong and Iseya knew enough french to tell me directly when my Kreole sucked. Thankfully kids also like it when they are better than adults at something so the role of the thorough, patient, laughing hysterically professor was taken on by all three on the hill and I was treated to my best Kreole lesson yet as the sun set warmly on the countryside. We promised to deliver my printout of Kreyol - English phrases to Iseya's mother's house (Madame Luke's) the following morning and seriously wishing we had our helicopter to give them a ride - we said bon swa! a plus tard! and headed down to the school buildings.

It was dark when we got back and I could hear the swishing and striking of soccer being played by the construction workers on the concrete slab of the newer building and I immediately jumped in. Playing soccer against people who have practiced religiously since being able to walk is one thing - doing it with a flat basketball in a building under construction with temporary diagonal cross-bracing in the dark is another. More hysterical laughter (from adults) ensued and we played until I was drenched with sweat and hot as hell. M'ap Boule! Time for a bath and bed.

Haiti 02 Embouchure

Back in Port au Prince looking out over the city valley watching smoke from garbage fires and listening to car horns at 5:30am while the sun rises. Really beautiful and peaceful - the horns making a friendly punctuation.

We got back yesterday from our visit to the site at St. Joseph Embouchure which is remote. Remote as in three hour Land Cruiser ride from PAP then a progression from two lane paved roads winding up from the the coastal low-lands into the rural mountains to a single lane of concrete slabs rolling over foothills in a white squiggle. 

Leaving the paved surface was like getting on to a mechanical bull. Fun for a while. Samuel (who I don't have a serious crush on) mercifully stopped when the road was so bad walking seemed preferable - which is what we were about to do. Shane and I strapped on our back packs (loaded with water, drawings and overnight stuff) and watched Samuel drive away leaving us to walk the 9-10kms into Embouchure - hopefully it would not rain too hard and he would be able to pick us up the following day.

The sky was overcast as we started our hike through a completely gorgeous landscape of mountain-like foothills and valleys patterned with patches of trees, young green crops in lines contouring the hillsides with red and light brown earth in between. The descent into the valley was comfortable as the clouds hid the sun so greetings to people along the way were pleasant and cheerful.

Along the Way

Rural Haiti is a happening place. There is always someone to wave to and shout Bonjou! into the distance at. On our path I got used to every man carrying a machete because that's the best tool to have and that we are slow. Kids, old men (with machetes), old women with 40-50lbs loads on their heads skipped past us with a Bonjou.

Wading In

We took a break to change our shoes to walk the river highway that connects so many communities in the area. It's an incredible (and level) way to get around with the shade of the trees and cool water constantly refreshing the feet. It was also refreshing because of the torrential downpour and my thoughts were divided between admiring my immediate surroundings and the road that would hopefully be there to take us out tomorrow.

We were immediately set upon by an older woman asking what present we had brought her personally and the next half hour of the journey was spent with her speeding ahead (in bare feet over rocks) and then letting us catch up and pass and at each passing letting loose on us with ferocious inquiry and rebuke. I'm glad she was carrying a load on her head because she could have kicked our asses and muegged us both if she wanted to.

Our Companion

We arrived at Embouchure two hours after being dropped off. I was still filled with the beauty of the trip we'd just completed - and as with each morning, afternoon and evening so far in Haiti, I was confronted with a scene that was strange, made me feel very uncertain about my ability to survive, engage and thrive in. There was no where for me to go so we walked up into Embouchure greeted the community to spend one of the most fun and engaging evenings I can remember.

More from Embouchure to come...

Haiti 01 - Arrive

The plane landed and we were met just past the gangway with damp, musty air conditioning and a band playing Haitian Jazz. Got on a packed bus to circumvent the earthquake-cracked edifice of the terminal and unloaded to go through customs. Here I felt the six weeks in front of me - everything a complete hot, chaotic unknown.

A tall elegant man took my passport and entry form wordlessly, I heard "stamp - stamp" and on I went. Set upon by airport helpers that Shane told me to ignore and after a moment of uncertainty, one person handed me a phone to call Shane and the other grabbed my bag securing their employment. It was suggested that $20 was fair compensation for their unpleasantly aggressive portering - $3 was grudgingly accepted. Our driver Samuel would not move until our seat belts were fastened and our doors locked. Samuel is tall, stoic and like just about every Haitian I've seen thus far - incredibly good-looking.

We then drove trhough Port-au-Prince. The word is sublime. We were immediately confronted with a tent city just outside the airport where media pictures came to life with a wrenching feeling of lack that accompanied my impression of life going on in and around the suggestion of shelter and security.

I am extremely happy that I was warned about the sport of travel by vehicle in Haiti and relaxed into the daring game of brinksmanship where respect is given to (in descending order) potholes, other trucks, other cars, motorcycles, goats, dogs, chickens and finally human pedestrians who it seemed Samuel was tending to miss by a hair - no matter how much open road we had - to punctuate their status.

Airplane view approaching Port au Prince

Lots. Lots more to come...

Aunt Annette

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Ursula the King

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Left-Hand Rule

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