Mwen pale kreyól piti biti.

September 10-17

            My flights to Haiti might have been the easiest I’ve ever taken.  After saying goodbye to my wonderful friends in Gainesville, I left the ground at 7:30am and arrived in Port-au-Prince at noon.  Having to arrange my collection of luggage, I was assisted by an airport staff member who would have been happier with more than my $3 tip.  Bags in tow, I fortunately encountered my liaison, Danette, immediately.  Danette is a vocational agriculture director from Florida with fingers and toes in many Haitian pies.  We had to wait for another arrival, so we met up with some non-profiters at a local hotel for lunch.  This was my first taste of the international community present in development projects, as two of them were Dutch.

            Back at the airport we picked up an American couple and their German friend.  Though the drive to Gressier was shorter than I expected, there was plenty to behold along the way – not the least of which was an openly burning garbage dump.  Driving through that toxic cloud was unpleasant. 

            With the sea to our right, the landscape along Highway 2 was a contrast of colorful decorations and austere living conditions.  Before too long, we turned off the paved road, heading towards the hills.  A few turns, passage through a gate, and I had arrived.  They immediately put me to work.

            Christianville is a secure mission that has projects in religion, education, and food production.  Their buildings are charmingly constructed and the compound is well maintained.  It is my purpose to work with the Fish Ministries non-profit to increase Christianville’s aquaculture (fish farming) production.  They have 10 large ponds for growing tilapia and 20 smaller basins for nurturing the fingerlings (immature fish).  It was the next morning that I took a tour of Christianville with Danette and was introduced to Josue (joze-WEE-(uh)), the fish farm manager.  He claims to have doubled production since he started working in March, while Danette mentioned that he had quadrupled production.  Though the Haitians tend to be humble with foreigners, I am inclined to believe Josue’s numbers.

            For the next week I shadowed Josue to learn all I could about aquaculture production in CV.  As I took notes, I became friendly with the other farm workers: Sonson, Makenson, Jean Remel, and Nene.  They are a cheerful bunch, who have made me feel wonderfully welcome.  Talking with them has allowed me to learn some Creole.  The language has been described to me as “French with all the nonsense removed.”

Sonson.  He did not like this picture.

Makenson.  He probably doesn't care about how he looks in this picture.
Josue on the right.

            This assessment was issued by Maha, an Egyptian finishing her studies at the UF Emerging Pathology lab here in CV, who, along with the other ‘blan’ (Creole for ‘white’, a.k.a. ‘foreigners’) staff members, I converse with at meal times.  Also on the roster: Laura, the guesthouse manager who kindly keeps everything functioning.  Sue, the grandmotherly operator of the orphanage.  Oscar and Rafael, the Nicaraguan agricultural workers from World Relief.  Kan, another lab UF researcher from Bangladesh.  Elizabeth, a Texas A&M student who is developing a community garden.  Finally, Pastors Harold and Raymond, Haitian ministers who have a strong English lexicon.  All of them are intelligent, caring people.

            Having comfortably settled into CV, I am taking part in both the Haitian and Christian cultures.  On Sunday, I rode with the American couple (Gabby and Abe), their German friend (Sarah), a Haitian tutor (Lele), and the driver (Juliom) to a church in Leogane, about one hour to the west of Gressier.  Our carriage was a taptap, a pickup truck with a roof welded over the bed, though they can be any kind of converted vehicle.  The taptaps are used as taxis, distinguished by vibrant paint designs. When someone wants to get off, they bang on the metal roof – hence, the name taptap.  The ride to and from Leogane had thrilling moments, as there are no real rules of the road.  Imagine looking out the unsecured back of a taxi as a Mack truck taptap careens towards you, weaving through lanes, horn blaring.  Imagine Mad Max meets a Fanta commercial and you have an idea of what it’s like driving in Haiti.

            The church was a cinderblock building with a tin roof and gravel floor.  It had no electricity for the new sound system that Gabby and Abe’s church had bought.

            After church and lunch, we went to another orphanage near CV.  It is unlike anything that most Americans are used to.  The orphans wash their clothes by hand with dirty water that flows in the ditch by the street.  The classroom is little more than plywood walls, a tin roof, bench desks, and a chalkboard.  The Madame who runs the orphanage gathered the children in front of us to recite Bible verses and sing while I squirmed in my church clothes.  We then went up the small mountain that overlooks Gressier to reach a spot where a third American ministry will build a third orphanage (there are at least 5 in the area).  Besides a nice vista to the sea, the location makes little conventional sense as a building site.  There are no roads to get to the location, only dried stream beds which the locals use to ride their motorcycles to and from town.  Our taptap took us most of the way before we had to hike the rest.  The ministry that will be building there will buy a fleet of ATVs to transport cinderblocks and supplies up the mountain.  It is their aspiration to dig a well for fresh water, though the soilless terrain means food crops can only be grown in raised beds with dirt carried up from the lowlands.

            Development is a struggle in Haiti. On the one hand are the locals who have been dealt blow after devastating blow and have almost no incentive to exert themselves; the other, fanatic and idealistic foreigners who have more work ethic than experience (myself included).  The unemployment rate in Haiti is 40-80%, depending on sources.  While it seems straightforward to hire locals to install infrastructure and teach them a skill, crumbling structures throughout the countryside serve as proof that Haitians are often incapable of following through with projects after foreigners leave.  That is not to say there is no hope.  CV has established a strong community with a success that has begun to permeate the local culture. 

The feed storage room, fish food on the left and chicken food on the right.
As you can see, there is currently no fish food.

            On the whole, my first week in Haiti has been enjoyable, thanks to the people and comforts of Christianville.  I won’t be getting too comfortable, though.  There is plenty of honest, hard work to be done.

What is that boy doing?

  

          And no air conditioning. 

Squirrelly.