“My eyes take in the view.
Poverty in all her glory . . .
Burning tires and
refuse,
Piled trash
along the roads,
Garbage
rivers running through the sewage bordered streets
But it’s not these
sights that register; my heart is blind to this . . .
My hand reaches out and I touch
Dirt, grit and grime
As I feel
palpable humidity and sweat trickling down
Creating muddy
tracks
That end in
sticky pods on my skin
But these textures
make no impression;
My heart can’t feel these things
These things can’t
touch and grasp the Haiti in my heart ! .
. .
Instead . . .
My heart sees . . . Beauty . . .
Lush vegetation
and trees,
on mountains with
flowers by the sea
The sun’s blazing orb
Casting light
upon a darkened world
Reflecting the vivid colors of Haiti –
Intense yellows,
orange, blues, red, pink . . .
And . . . children
Being loved by their mothers
or playing near
streets
Children . . . in starched uniforms
(the colors of Haiti)
Walking to and from school
. . .
Smiling . . .
Laughing . . .
My heart also hears . . . Music
The music of street merchants selling their wares
“Pee-stoch”
“D’lo”
And bartering
in rapid fire Kreyol . . .
Snorts,
laughs, loud guffaws . . .
And children singing is Haiti . . .
I sense an indomitable spirit
Their pride
Their joy . . .
(From Haiti in my
Heart by Cryssa C; an American who
with her husband has adopted seven of their thirteen children from the Foyer de
Simia orphanage in Haiti
I do not share this view of
everyday life in Haiti. I’m not able to
ignore the many problems and challenges here. I see where there is dirt and grime. There is nothing glorious, magical or uplifting about the abject poverty
you can encounter every day when venturing off the beaten path or down the
street a pace for that matter. I surely
don’t subscribe to the notion that Haitians facing hard times will nonetheless be “happy and joyful people.”
There are many angry young men
around Leogane, Port-au-Prince and elsewhere who internally, and sometimes
outwardly, plead for a job. Profane,
political graffiti on buildings underscores the anger.
For me, the death toll from cholera
the past two years – most probably visited upon Haitians from a Nepalese UN
troop source – should not stir someone to use this occasion to celebrate a
people’s resilience. I don’t see where
there is beauty in someone experiencing heartache. It is one thing to admire the grit of others. But why elevate that admiration to a new
level by suggesting that difficult times present well needed occasions for
personal growth. Such times often bring
death, particularly among the young.
Last year, I found myself in the
camp of those well-meaning folks, such as the author of the poem above, I now
criticize. Their sentiments at times
found their way into last year’s Notes. This year I continue in my admiration for many of the Haitians I have
met in Leogane, but not because they suffer so well. No, it’s because they have reminded me of the
importance of nurturing relationships, and about living. Life is teeming here.
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I do agree with at least one of the
poem’s sentiments, that watching school children on their way to school is
uplifting. I look forward to the parade
of solids, stripes and checker-board patterns outside my window every school day. (I’ve attached just a few photographs of student
comings and goings from last week, 0695, 0700, 0702, 0717 and 0721) I agree that the variety of uniform hues
might suggest an alternative way of viewing “the national colors of Haiti”, rather
than just the red and blue of the official flag.
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Street Beats and Rhythms
There
are definite patterns and sounds to living in Leogane; some man-made, others
not. Weather fluctuates between bright
sun and high humidity, and cool air that follows a thumping rain. I don’t think the rain brings the same level
of noise one-half mile away in the sugar fields. But here, it beats down on the corrugated
metal roof of a ramada that was placed below my office window during the
renovation project. (Rain photo from
yesterday – 0727) This roof, half a
story down, serves as somewhat of a safety net Dr. Livingston, who continues to
go out on to the 5” wide ledge outside my window. (Dr. L. on the ledge
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yesterday, photo
0729) I guess he has forgotten falling from
the second floor to the ground when he was six months old, while stretching out
on the same ledge. He’s lucky though, he
only has to survive the dangers of his street-watching roost until August when
Missy Owen is moving back to North Carolina after being here for more than two
years. She’s taking Dr. L with her.
It’s
good that he won’t be here next Christmas or Easter. Missy told me a few weeks ago that these are
cat-eating holidays. Poor Jackson. He owns a pharmacie across the street and is
one of Missy’s next door neighbors. In January,
Missy helped Jackson by de-worming his cat. Jackson thanked her; maybe the cat didn’t. He went missing Easter weekend; the cat, not
Jackson. I wonder how attractive a worm-invested cat would have been to Haitian feline carnivores.
Motos
infuse the streets with tinny noises. Their beeps can be a warning that the moto is turning a corner or that
it is approaching from behind – so keep walking a straight line or just stop in
place. But doing the latter will surely
delay the arrival at your destination, because motos are ubiquitous to the
streets of Leogane.
Sometimes the annoying sound signals
a non-verbal tirade directed to a truck or tap-tap that is hogging the road. Whatever the purpose, these beeps ebb and
flow during the day. They fill the
morning around 7:30 a.m., as many motos are driven by parents or older brothers
ferrying students to school. Last week,
I saw five on a moto – father driving, the youngest child in front sitting on
the fuel tank, and three children on the back. I don’t see many five occupant motos drive by,
but plenty with three or four. Moto sounds again dominate the street around
1:00 p.m., as the work day is at full throttle and children are returning from
school. Traffic picks up again after 5:00
p.m.
Moto horn symphonies reach full crescendo
on Saturdays - market day. On Samdi, ferried
school children are replaced by adults sitting behind the driver, holding on to
large bags of rice, beans, charcoal, and other assorted items bought at
market. Cargo may also be placed in
front of the driver. Only the laws of
physics seem to control the size of a load. Lumber or rebar may be toted, adding 2-3 feet of clearance that people
on foot must cede to an approaching moto driver. Many times, the passenger is using the moto
as a taxi. It usually costs 25 Gourdes
(about 60 cents U.S.) to catch a moto for a one-way in-town ride.
On Saturdays, open markets are
filled with a wide assortment of wares, clothing, shoes, CD’s, DVD’s, hair and beauty products and mangoes, mangoes
and more mangoes. (I’m told that there
are more than twenty kinds of mangoes.)
Every day tap taps and buses hit
the road from early morning through evening. On Friday afternoon, starting around 3 p.m., people leave the “bus
depot” in Leogane for Port-au-Prince where many who work in Leogane Monday
through Friday spend the weekend with their families in the capital city. Monday morning brings a reverse migration
from PaP back to Leogane. Dr. Samuels,
the ER doctor at the hospital, is one of the many Leoagne – PaP roundtrip weekend
travelers.
Last year, the “bus depot” in
Leogane City Center was where Grand Rue (one block north of the hospital) meets
the main highway going to PaP. I walked
by it several times last year. It always
was busy. The first weekend I was back this
year, there were only a few tap taps there at a time when I expected at least ten
vehicles in formation to be filled with passengers paying 50 Gourdes to get to
PaP, Jacmel, Les Cayes or elsewhere. The next day I happened to mention the
scarcity of vehicles to Mario. He told
me that the Leogane City officials had moved the bus depot to another location
about two miles away, out at the junction of the main highway and the Leogane
bypass road. The relocation was made a
number of months ago after a bus at the old depot backed into a wooden power, and ten people were electrocuted when a power line that fell across the bus. Among the twenty or so of the others who
survived, some had legs and arms amputated because of the severity of their
burns or they suffered “electrical amputations” at the scene.
It doesn’t matter what day of the
week it is – the sun rises about the same time during any given week – everyday roosters crow about thirty minutes before the first ray of light hits the
street. There are two roosters that call the day to order near my window. One is a very large white bird. I showed him to Mario yesterday. He took one look and said “He’s not a native
Haitian rooster, he’s too big.” Whatever
his lineage, it’s always a hoot to watch this ambulatory wake up caller plant
himself in front of Madame Carmen’s house, and start crowing at her door about
every thirty seconds until she chases him away. (He’s in attached photo 0712, at Madame Carmen’s front door.)
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Speaking of Madame Carmen, as you can see, the
lime-green house of last year is now pink – at least the front half. The painted on Christmas tree and ornaments are
gone. One thing remains though. Just like last year, every so often Madame
Carmen sits in her doorway, on her low riding chair, butt naked; like yesterday. (No photos attached.)
Dogs provide the evening sound
bites, while the roosters rest up for morning. I have yet to see an overweight dog in Haiti. They all look like they would rule any U.S. or
Canadian neighborhood, should they
somehow get transported to North America. The expression “street-wise” comes to mind when I watch Frankie’s dog
across the street.
Should you come to Leogane, and
take at least a fifteen minute walk around City Center or Belval, I promise you
will hear a number of children call out “Hey You !” Children and adults also may shout “blan” at
you. As a general rule, “blan” – which
is Kreyol for “white” or “whitie” when called out to a pale foreigner – is not
intended as a pleasant greeting. It’s
more like, “I see you in my neighborhood white person.” “Hey you” on the other hand can cut one of two
ways; as a friendly greeting of “Hey you, what’s up” or “Hey you, what are you doing
here.” I have learned ways to respond to
these shout outs. It doesn’t hurt to
know a fair amount of Kreyol. I’m
getting there.
A description of common street
happenings in Leogane would not be complete without a mention of “Ti Malice” –
which has at least three levels of meaning in Haiti. First, and foremost, “Ti Malice” is a brand
name for various cooking oils and food products. You can’t walk more than two blocks in
Leogane without seeing someone who is wearing a bright yellow t-shirt with “Ti
Malice” in blue on the front. I scored
one during Ra Ra. (Photo 0696)
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Frankie,
who owns a street level shop across the street, and lives upstairs, wears his
Ti Malice t-shirt and shorts 2-3 times a week. That’s him across the street in attached photo no. 0695, taken during a
school day uniform parade. Ti Malice was
a major sponsor of this year’s Ra Ra. One of the photographs I sent you with this year’s Note about Ra Ra was of a number of men on horseback with straw
hats. They all are wearing yellow Ti
Malice t-shirts under their blue sport coats.
Ti-Malice also is a popular Haitian
rock/reggae type band. And, Ti Malice is a noted Haitian
folklore character:
“Probably the most popular of the [folklore] characters are Uncle Bouki and his perpetual antagonist, Ti Malice. Bouki is ineffective, boastful, sometimes greedy, continually hungry, foolish, and often gently touching. Ti Malice is quick, conniving and ready to deceive either for an advantage or a joke. Together, Uncle Bouki and Ti Malice form a combination for plot and counterplot, usually funny, sometimes with a moral humor....As for Ti Malice, Haitians would roughly translate the name as meaning “mischief.” But the Ti in the name could well have come from “tio”, meaning “uncle” in Spanish.” Woody Woodpecker, Bugs Bunny and Roadrunner have nothing of you Ti Malice. Here, you win hands down the imaginary battle of the per capita t-shirts headcount.
RANDOM SIGHTINGS
In no particular order, I leave you with a list of some things that caught my attention when I worked around Leogane City Center, then up north of the Belval neighborhood where the Nursing College is located, out to the main Leogane – PaP highway, back down to Rue Lavandiere then west to Rue Pere Thevenot in front of the hospital, for about seventy-five minutes on Saturday one week past. Other sightings were made this past week.
The largest grey hair hog I have
ever seen, half submerged in a big mud pit. I thought it was dead until I saw a few bubbles come out of the snout. Three little drummer boys along the
side of a house – sharing a coffee can and plastic container to make street
beats.
Walking back with Watson from
Belval, after meeting with two of the nurses who were part of the hydroceles
surgery team operating at HSC last week. We were passing a huge public works ditch project near the old, now
demolished city hall, and approaching where the new Catholic Church will soon
be built. Watson said, “Leogane is
building.” Indeed it is.
Walking by the tent city next to
the large open air market in Belval. There are about half the number of tents I remember from this time last
year. I think this is a good sign. Perhaps some have moved into the new homes in
Santo.
The crowd watching the UEFA
Champions League soccer game between Barcelona and Chelsea, across the street
at Jackson’s. Leogane is a Futbol Club
of Barcelona town. Here the team is
simply called “Barsa” (as in “bar sah”). Chelsea knocked Barsa out of the semi-final round. Jackson’s was packed (photo 0714), as it also
had been a few days earlier for “El Classico”; which is the name given to any
match
between Spanish La Liga rivals Barsa and Real Madrid. Barsa also lost that game. It was not a good week for the crowds at Jackson’s. On top of the two loses within a span of a
few days, I don’t think more than 5 – 7 of the fans could actually see the T.V.
inside Jackson’s store.
Buying a grilled ear of corn for 10
gourdes from a woman vendor on the main Leogane-PaP highway. I’m not hesitant to eat local fare, within
reason.
Trash. Though it pales in comparison to the life and
death challenges some face, and I hesitate even to mention them, there are
mundane, small things around here that drive me nuts; for example the ubiquitous
litter of small plastic packets that once held about four ounces of drinking
water and discarded Styrofoam food containers.
Watching the hardest working men in
Leogane; those who pull huge wooden carts to tote at sorts of heavy items for their
customers. These are Haitian “teamsters”
so to speak, but without a Jimmy Hoffa legacy union or a decent wage to
compensate for the wear and tear endured by their bodies. (Photos 0724 and 0725)
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At the beginning of my Saturday walkabout, I
was walking up Rue Pere Thevenot, and watched a barefoot man, who couldn’t have
weighed more than 110 lbs., struggle to pull a wooden cart loaded with at least
fifteen bags of cement and a few other bags. He was bent forward so much that his chin couldn’t have been more than
two feet from the ground. Amazing
strength, and lots of sweat.
I again visited the mass grave where many unidentified Leogane citizens are buried. he mass grave is located within the white
wooden fence line between the established cemetery at the end of Rue La Croix
and the main Leogane to PaP highway. (Photos 0705, 0706, and 0707)
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The sobering visit to the grave
site was followed immediately by a turn west on to Rue Lavandiere, where I came
upon the third of three Kleren stills I passed during the Saturday hike. (Photo
0708) Some Americans here refer to Kleren as
“Haitian sugar cane moonshine.” I think
that’s a misnomer. When I think of
moonshine, I think of a still hidden from “Revenuers” far back in an
Appalachian “holler.” Here, Kleren
stills are along well traveled roads, including one that is two blocks from the
hospital over on Rue Lavandiere.
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(Photo 0708)
I’m tried Kleren. It has such
high alcohol content that it starts evaporating as soon as it hits your
tongue. I’ll stick with Prestige Beer if
you don’t mind. But, I’ll ask my wife Jeanne to
give Kleren a try when she visits in a few weeks; so she can have yet another
memorable Haiti experience.
HOW IS YOUR FAMILY ?
When you are greeted by people you know, and even when meeting some strangers for the first time, it is not
uncommon to be asked, “How is your family?” Most asking this question are sincerely
interested in your answer. When I see
Dr. Bastien, the local dentist – as I did yesterday - he always asks me, “How
is your wife?”
Madame Bellevue and I start the
morning by asking each other how we slept last night. Last week, I also asked her about the
soreness in her right wrist. She no
longer is “fe mal,” which is good. I
learned Monday that over the weekend she had stopped the Advil I had given
her.
When I came back to the guesthouse
at the end of my Saturday hike a week past, Madame Bellevue opened the second
floor door for me. She was visiting with
one of her sons. Man was he tall – “wo”
in Kreyol. Madame stopped her
conversation with her oldest child to introduce him to me and to engage in several
minutes of conversation with me and her son even though she knew I wasn’t
following everything in Kreyol. It was
more important to take the time to chat than to have all words understood. How typical of Madame Bellevue, from whom I
have learned so much about nurturing relationships. My lessons from her began on my first day in Leogane
last year, March 30, 2011.
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Those of you who read last year’s
Notes have already seen the attached photo of Madame Bellevue (Photo
0294). I attach it again for the
newcomers, and to show all but one of the eight or so hats she has worn the
past month. Madame is a person of very
modest means. But, she is rich in grace
and every day radiates an infectious zest for life.
In the early evening, after 7:00
p.m. when moto traffic has subsided a bit, the pace on Rue Pere Thevenot
changes. Madame Carmen holds court with
passersby. Frankie and Jackson are out
front sweeping their porches but stopping often to talk with friends on foot,
bicycles and motos. Jackson’s grandson
is on his plastic tricycle, laughing quite a bit as he plays in front with one
of his parents or one of his 4 -6 years old neighborhood friends.They
sometimes taunt dogs roaming the street until a growl ends that mischievous play.
Evenings on Rue Pere Thevenot give
me a taste of what it would have been like to have grown up in a small town,
spending summer and fall evenings on the porch for an hour or two. Here, chickens and some goats roam the
neighborhood. No need for cages or
animal pens. Everyone knows who owns
each animal. But I guess this “hands
off” courtesy doesn’t always extend to cats.
During evenings at the hospital, Ty
Ty and Beelove are around. They both
live out back. They sit on the concrete
bench area outside the lobby and chat with friends, and with those bringing a
meal to a patient in the hospital. (There is no cafeteria at Hopital Sainte Croix as is the case with most
hospitals in Haiti.)
Last night I was outside under an
overhang next to the hospital main gate while it rained talking to one of the
translators about an American mobile clinic team due to arrive in 10 days. There was no rush to finish our
conversation. Cells phones were not
allowed to intrude.
When I’m in Leogane, I’m reminded
once again of the importance of talking to family and friends often and for
more than a few off-handed exchanges. To
me, the need to cement relationship bonds increases in direct proportion to the
ever accelerating pace of life in the United States. My conversational
skills improve when I’m here, because people expect you to ask about them and
their families, and for you to talk about yourself and your loved ones.
When he comes upstairs to see what
meds we might have in the guesthouse auxiliary pharmacy depot, I talk to Sammy
- the one who works in the O.R., not
Sammy the translator - about how Barsa in its last game. (I think this Sammy is a closet Real Madrid
fan.) I often talk politics with
Mario. We most recently discussed when the
UN troops might be leaving Haiti. When I
see Jo Jo each Monday and Wednesday for our “You teach me Kreyol, I’ll teach
you English” lessons, I ask about his three month old daughter, Betsy, and his
wife. He asks about Jeanne, and when
she’s coming to visit. It is not enough
to ask, “How are you today,” but that’s always a good start.
Most Thursdays or Fridays, I ask Ty
Ty about the church his band will be playing at the next Sunday/Dimanch service. Jeannine and I talk about her weekend
business. Last week, we printed up
business cards for Jeannine’s thriving catering business. In front of Jeannine about
two hours ago, I was singing the praises of her chocolate cake with a hint of
coconut to the volunteer manager of the
Filariasis Guesthouse in Belval. I’m
hoping that compliment will bring some of Jeannine’s homemade cookies to the
dinner table by the end of the week.
Mario and I have a running rock
trivia challenge carried over from last year. Just yesterday he came by to visit, and for some reason we drifted into
conversation about British soccer hooligans. Mario started laughing, and reminded me that last year he stumped me
when I couldn’t tell him which British rock band had cut the “Hooligans”
compilation album. It was The Who!
Greeting someone is not a
perfunctory experience in Haiti, if you let the give and take of initial
dialogue come to you and let it grab your undivided attention. Life slows down here for many
reasons, some good, some not so good. To
me, the best reason is the most refreshing – relationships truly matter.
I hope this Note finds you and your
loved ones in good health and spirits.
Peace,
David
02 May 2012
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