Haitian Hiatus

We arrived in Port au Prince after a few hour delay in Miami. At Laura and Jack’s Ft. Lauderdale home we had spent two lazy days, adjusting to the time zone, heat and relishing our last days with flushing toilets, swimming pools and air-conditioned movie theaters. (We enjoyed ‘wall-E’ and ‘Hancock’!)

Haiti from the air looked more lush, and organized, with geometric fields than we expected. We haven’t been in Port au Prince but for the airport. Our family made a brief visit to Haiti six years ago, and it left a strong, intriguing impression. I must admit we were quite apprehensive, after reading our State Department’s website on travel to Haiti (it did not bolster our confidence. What party poopers.) Neither did reading Graham Greene’s The Comedians.

Fortunately, customs, baggage claim and the dreaded exit from the controlled airport was easy, especially compared to Miami. The local preschool teacher, Vanna, from the school we’re visiting, was waiting to escort us to a van. She held a sign with our names, gave us each kisses and took our hands to lead us through the throngs without speaking a word of English. I love preschool teachers!

We were whisked, expertly, through the busy Port au Prince streets. It was quite an interesting dance, weaving past pedestrians, potholes, motorbikes, colorful, jam-packed taptaps (taxi like pick-up trucks) and armed UN vehicles.

The sights (that we were too shy to photograph) along the way: miserable slums, filthy with refuse, naked children perusing the sewage banks with the hogs, beautiful, haughty-looking women nobly balancing fresh produce, enticing Lotto shacks, and UN soldiers studying and buying Haitian crafts. Imagine all this accompanied by the soundtrack of loud shouting and honking. We tried to observe the bustle while swerving through chaotic traffic in a van with gaping holes in the floor.

We made a bee-line to the Ouanga Bay Beach Hotel near the port of M….. Years ago we had spent a memorable night here. Again, a very surreal experience. A lovely beach hotel, seemingly deserted but for an elderly desk clerk (who miraculously accepted Visa!) It had the same thrumming disco music blaring in the lounge, elegant tropical gardens, and immaculate beaches but not another guest in sight, very Hotel California-esque. As the sun went down, we took a lovely dip in the calm, azure Atlantic under the stars (zetwol) and again, in the morning, as the sun rose. We were grateful for our room’s shower, our last, of the month.

The next morning we lugged our heavy five large bags carrying school, art and computer supplies to the ferry launch. There awaited us a welcome sight, a newer, bone-fide ferry. One with life-jackets for everybody, a ticket taker and a crew that was insistent that the passengers stay in their seats (including the live roosters in their pillowcases). It was very crowded, very late in departing, and very hot, but it felt capable. An added bonus was the deliciously interesting people-watching that we used to keep us entertained for the 2 ½ hour boat ride.

We landed on the island of Lagonav. The crowd that awaited the ferry made the one at the airport look like a receiving line. We got separated for a few terrifying minutes, but then the driver (who was to take us up the mountain to Matenwa, our destination) took us by the arms and pulled us through the masses. The people of Haiti speak creole (Ayitian Kreyol), a phonetic mixture of French and African, little of what was shouted was understood by us. We relish, tire, thrill and are frustrated in trying to figure out what is happening by gesture, intonation and expression. I find the still faces hard to read but welcome the passion of the intimate conversations and lively, teasing dialogue. The eyes are really where I get the most meaning. I don’t think I look to the eyes, to understand, in the United States. I wonder if I will when I get back or will I drop it, knowing the words?

Our precious cargo went into the center bed of the truck and fifteen people ringed it, sitting on the rim of the truck bed, adding their belongings to our pile. There were three people in the cab, as well as two babies. I had a six year old girl (who didn’t look too sure about being so close to this blanc) on my lap, my legs over the wheel well, watching with pride/apprehension as Genevieve and Max balanced precariously over the deeply rutted, washed out, dusty rock track. The weight this truck carried made the trip less bucking, nonetheless, we were left bruised, scratched, a little sunburnt, and sore for days!

Finally arriving at the Matenwa Community School for Development (www.Matenwa.org) we were warmly welcomed by founding member, Chris Low. We dropped off our bags for the school and went to meet our host family.

There is a solar powered (16 auto batteries) satellite wireless connection here, wild. Our only link to the world. We have to walk an hour to a spring for water, take out the goats at five in the morning but can wiki anything. Heaven.

Genevieve is helping to set up their library, Lisa Ellenberg would be so proud. Dewey Decimal lives on! A card catalog, she's never seen before. She's learning about it online while trying not to scratch the 108 mosquito bites she has, not that she’s counting!

We are okay. Getting a bit tired, hot, and hurt. Lots of reading, walking and hanging out. We wake up swaddled in sweat, mosquito bites, nets and sleeping liners. Often to crying, arguing and early morning tempers of our host family. Not sure if part of my disappointment is the let down of coming here and being not truly helpful in any real way. We are learning, observing and appreciating, making do, bucking up, being self-reliant but I guess it is getting a little old. The whole village seems concerned about the sheer quantity of our mosquito bites!

Max, on a long walk jumped over some thorn bushes, driving a two inch spike into his calf. Thank god I was with him and had a knife. We got that out, as he said, "Thanks to the corn cob Eve had" with her, to bite down on. I had to incise using a needle (sterilized through a flame) and a thorn from another plant, later, another thorn in his toe (of course) with his headlamp and the whole family watching. They said if you leave any of that 'pekan' in, his foot/leg would balloon up.

We washed our laundry yesterday, took the three of us three hours but was fine. We are low efficiency machines BUT we used only five pails of water. Max, being a boy, got a little teased for helping (I don't think he still understands a word here) but is great about being above it all, not afraid to set a different kind of example. Other than tend to the animals in the morning, I can't see that most males do squat around here. You can imagine how much I love that! :) He's played soccer a bit with school's boys, they are simply amazing foutbol'lers, but is laid up with his leg and toe still sore. They play on a short, dusty, rocky playground which emphasizes foot control and quick aggression. As does the 'coach' who makes the younger boys do push-ups, on their knuckles, on the rocks when they screw up (back talk, flub a drill, or are late).

None of us have made any real friends, to hang out with, but we pal around with a 13 y.o. boy, Emanuel, visiting from Port au Prince who fluently speaks English, French and Creole. He is very polite and has stayed on longer, to 'show us around.' I hear he is the grandson of a very famous Haitian writer, Jean Price Mars.

Our host mother, Jocienne, is fabulous. She has her hands full with six or so kids and us not understanding much of what she says. She is patient with us, a great sport and cook. She goes WILD watching her team, every other evening or so play ‘foutbol.’ She brings them water, juice and washes their jerseys. It is a blast to be in her circle of friends, who seem like loud, fun, powerful women.

Jocienne is the ‘pwofese’ (teacher) of the local women’s art centre embroidery group. Their work is simply gorgeous, depicting local imagery and color. I’m trying my damndest to purchase some, which has been commissioned by a dealer in the US. This same women’s art collective paints silk batik scarves also displaying indigenous symbols, animals and color. We watched as they completed four banners commissioned by Vassar.

Her mother, lives next door to us, raised fourteen children and is just as exuberant. She is an amazing gardener. We seem to really crack her up!

I've started teaching twice daily English classes to adults, mostly teachers. It has been fun, especially, when we role play! I make up games and we laugh. No books, but everybody writes down everything I put on the board and is very focused. Trying to learn and understand Kreyol, as they learn English, puts me in a very sympathetic position. A surprising amount of our learning involves a combination of what feels like speech therapy, body language and sheer willingness to repeat mistakes, over and over.

Eve is chugging away at this library, putting in two or more hours a day, which is nice. She’s reading a lot, just finishing her seventh book. She is getting quite a bit of attention for her beauty. When we go on walks people mistake her for a 'bonita' (Dominican babe). She is close to my side but is holding her own and is apt to pick up a few phrases.

Max has loaded language programs and word programs onto their computers. He is trying to sort out the 'administrator' function and individual passwords on each computer. He also shows the 'Planet Earth' films to a standing room only crowd on Wednesday nights. He has the French subtitles but the footage and narrative is so engrossing he has huge audience turnout. It is screened in the main building of the school, with a DVD player connected to a projector that projects onto a sheet over a large blackboard. It is so cool to watch images of the world's jungles and rainforests in the dark, with all the sounds and promise of a recovering rainforest just 20 feet away.

We trekked to the market yesterday, so felt like we had a 'Country Fair' experience. Dusty, lots to check out, hot, yummy, crowded, overwhelming, colorful and more expensive than you’d think!