First impressions of Haiti
by Catherine LaineAugust 23rd, 2006
It’s my first time in Haiti. It’s a bit overwhelming but I’m equilibrating. I can only speak about Cap Haitien as I have yet to visit other parts of the country. Life is hard for people here. This is a statement bordering on ludicrous in its obviousness, but it’s got to be said. Being that the Haitian government is ineffectual or underfunded or corrupt or undermined by American intervention, certain things that are absolutely necessary for development aren’t getting done.
Roads. The roads are damaged or unpaved. Previously paved roads are the worst. Think of a face after a particularly bad case of small pox. Whereas you can still get by at a pretty decent clip on a dirt road, asphalt with gouged out potholes makes for a much bumpier ride.
Primary School Education. Given that school is not free, there are a lot of kids who cannot afford to go and who spend their days playing or trying to bring in extra cash for the family. On the less depressing side, they shine shoes, run errands, sell this that and the other. I prefer not to think about the other options. A lot of the little kids have the tinge of red in their hair that indicates protein deficiency.
Electricity and Water. For the homes that have electricity, you can expect at least three blackouts a day. If you’re rich, you’ll have a backup generator. There are water pumps sprinkled throughout town of unjudged purity. We have running water at the Domus, but it did shut off for several hours at least once already.
Sanitation. Being that Cap is an urban area and Citee Lescot is what a Rastafarian I met described as the Haitian equivalent of the projects, the sanitation situation is pretty grim. Waste ekes from open sewers. The smell ranges from absent to putrid. I saw a few chickens scavenging in the soggy grey-green filth looking for food. There is no trash pickup, so people have to burn their trash on the streets. At night you can get whiffs of the toxic smell of plastics and other volatiles.
But at the same time, it’s similar to many poor places around the globe. The big difference is the a larger chunk of the population is in dire straits. Parts reminded me of some of the slums around Nairobi, some bits from Mombasa, some from the Ngerenya district in Kenya.
There are more trees than I thought there would be. There is massive deforestation to be sure, but the news reports make it seem like all vegetation has been plucked clean away or that there is one lone tree left standing as a sentinel in the countryside.
It is unclear what the UN peacekeepers are accomplishing here. I don’t mean this in a bad way or even as a criticism. I know they are absolutely necessary in Port au Prince, but not sure what Cap would be like if they weren’t here now. It is strange to be on a city street watching an armored personnel carrier make its daily rounds.
Perhaps their presence just makes it feel as if something sinister, some breeding unrest were just around the corner. Either way, Cap is very calm right now.
You’ve got your unnerving mix of vehicles, tap-tap, brand new Toyotas, the occasional SUV, UN/WFP/UNDP cars, older Nissan or Daihatsu trucks (I’m convinced that they last forever). You’ve got the bougie part of town where the hotels with their “Old World charm” reside with their swimming pools, palm trees, satellite internet and wifi, and fine chefs. You’ve got the taste of the tropics: mangoes, milk from freshly cut coconuts, sugarcane, papaya with lime, pineapple, plantains, red beans and rice. It’s good to be here.
The people, well they are Haitian after all, are awesome. People are remarkably clean. I don’t want this to sound patronizing, but I’m having the hardest time keeping dust off my clothes and I see these little girls who appear to almost glow in their pristine whites and lacey socks. I wonder how on earth they manage. My J-crew sandals have finally worn through. Liquid whose contents I do not wish to question seeps in.
We’re getting very little hassle. I remember being followed in Nairobi and feeling really unsafe out on the street when I was there with my British friends, Nicola and her sister Julia. I don’t feel any of that here. People do stare, of course. The team, after all, is a walking anomaly. Though Pete says that when standing alone he does get some hostile looks, especially when it is not obvious that he is with other black people. Though he is a big guy, he finds it unsettling.
Overall, it’s a lot do deal with in one go. I would imagine the countryside makes for an easier introduction. I’m overwhelmed, but I think I’m in love. This is where my family is from.
