Much more sophisticated than the dogs on velvet! Cheers to you, AJA.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Haitian haze
I haven't written in weeks. Not that anything hasn't happened, it's just that it's a bit of a blur and not so quick to process! I think about my past international experiences and note that "haze" seems to be a fitting description of my status within that experience: it all seems normal, but the lines are faintly blurry. Regardless, my Haitian haze cannot be confused with my Bangla daze, so let me begin.
Life in Pacot, Haiti, is quite pampered for someone who was living on an uninsulated steel tugboat. We have 3 bathrooms - 3! - and a generator that kicks in when the power goes out, which is often and for long periods of time. Our lovely plot of land is covered by mango trees and other lush tropical plants. My desk faces the front of the house, where I can spy the passing feet of the scores of women and children trudging up the steep hill carrying water from the polluted stream at the base of the hill as there is no city water. Never have I lived anywhere where there wasn't any sort of infrastructure for water in the capital city -- and Pacot is a pampered neighborhood where the elite of Haiti lived in the 1930s - 60s. Something fundamental is simply not working.
I'm working full time at my old NGO that has been working in Haiti since 1985. I'm their education manager and busy, busy, busy. Delighted in having work to do but dismayed by the volume of it all, Laurence and I soldier on. He shuttles off to work daily at 6:30 AM; I jump into our old Jeep Cherokee around 7:30 and enjoy my reverse commute up the hill beyond the Hotel Montana whilst listening to Radio France Internationale, pretending that my French is improving. (It is, actually, but not nearly fast enough!)
Weekends are simple: shopping, dinner out, a little adventure. We're going sailing next weekend, which will be delightful, and then we're off to Florida to visit my grandparents on All Soul's Day and All Saint's Day, which are BIG events in Haiti and worthy of a day off!
That is life. It's pretty simple, a little bewildering, and occasionally restless. But then something extraordinary happens: a flight across the mountains into the Central Plateau, a shared smile with a young schoolgirl riding in a taptap on her way to church, or a huge laugh with a delightful colleague. I'm still getting to know this place, but I have a feeling one never really gets to "know" Haiti. You feel it.
Life in Pacot, Haiti, is quite pampered for someone who was living on an uninsulated steel tugboat. We have 3 bathrooms - 3! - and a generator that kicks in when the power goes out, which is often and for long periods of time. Our lovely plot of land is covered by mango trees and other lush tropical plants. My desk faces the front of the house, where I can spy the passing feet of the scores of women and children trudging up the steep hill carrying water from the polluted stream at the base of the hill as there is no city water. Never have I lived anywhere where there wasn't any sort of infrastructure for water in the capital city -- and Pacot is a pampered neighborhood where the elite of Haiti lived in the 1930s - 60s. Something fundamental is simply not working.
I'm working full time at my old NGO that has been working in Haiti since 1985. I'm their education manager and busy, busy, busy. Delighted in having work to do but dismayed by the volume of it all, Laurence and I soldier on. He shuttles off to work daily at 6:30 AM; I jump into our old Jeep Cherokee around 7:30 and enjoy my reverse commute up the hill beyond the Hotel Montana whilst listening to Radio France Internationale, pretending that my French is improving. (It is, actually, but not nearly fast enough!)
Weekends are simple: shopping, dinner out, a little adventure. We're going sailing next weekend, which will be delightful, and then we're off to Florida to visit my grandparents on All Soul's Day and All Saint's Day, which are BIG events in Haiti and worthy of a day off!
That is life. It's pretty simple, a little bewildering, and occasionally restless. But then something extraordinary happens: a flight across the mountains into the Central Plateau, a shared smile with a young schoolgirl riding in a taptap on her way to church, or a huge laugh with a delightful colleague. I'm still getting to know this place, but I have a feeling one never really gets to "know" Haiti. You feel it.
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