March 4th 2011
Non mesi
Today is our second day in Haiti, much more enjoyable than the first, the first day we were taken by surprise as we got off the plane and found ourselves surrounded by men wanting to help us with all our boxes. Jacques had told us to say “non mesi” which is Creole for no thank you. But apparently we weren’t saying it loud enough because about 15 men decided to “help” us, we tried to get them to stop but at most we could say no sternly. So they followed as some of the guys said “no money, you will get no money” this was kind of hilarious, not only were we saying it to ourselves because the Haitians could not understand us, but it was also funny because we were so tired and trying so hard to start the trip out right. It felt wrong to deny these men the only source of income they have, but there was no way we could have paid for the dozen or so men trying to help, and paying one didn’t seem fair. Anyway we unloaded as we simultaneously tried to keep the natives from helping, this all happens after Jacques gets screamed at by the locals, one woman even grabbed a knife and ripped open one of the boxes only to be disappointed by clothes. Apparently food, electronics and medicine were the things people wanted.
The Bus
We had to wait patiently surrounded by angry locals sneering at us for the bus to come, but eventually it did. We got on the bus a bit cramped 30 in a “30” (really 27 comfortably) bus. I sat next to Madame Pape (Jacques mom), which made me more nervous and excited, she was very nice asking me questions and pointing things out for me. For all I wanted to pay attention to her and make a good impression I was just too mesmerized by the sight in front of me. People, children, women with bundles on their heads, men sweating and pulling carts, trash lots of trash, food vegetables candies and water in plastic bags, buses packed beyond capacity, bicycles, and motorcycles with up to three passengers! It was all too much for the mind to take all in at once. It seemed like we almost ran over a few kids who gave no warning, just jumped right in front of buses with no regards to their safety! We were about half an inch from getting into an accident with buses just as large as us. Motorcycles zoomed by at alarming speeds and way too close for anyone’s comfort. It was overwhelming at best, especially since I was exhausted from little to no sleep and the toil of two uncomfortable plane rides. Yet I was beyond excited to be here, I was with Jacques, I was going to meet his family, his home, his friends, and his people simultaneously. I had the hope of learning a new culture and having new and exciting experiences.
March 5th 2011
Cross Regions
On our first official day in Haiti we went on a two hour trip to Gonaives, we went from tropical beach to crowded village, to bread basket, to desert, to our destination. The plains of Haiti are a beautiful sight, the brightest of greens, water gleaming in the sunlight, birds feeding, goats roaming, people planting. It reminded me of pictures I’ve seen of Thailand’s rice fields, I had never imagined this existed in Haiti. We stopped in the square of Gonaives and exited the bus to curious stares. We walked with the bodyguard behind us as Jacques led the group through the square; there was a monument of a man carrying the flag of independence and a mural with beautiful faces on it. We took pictures in front of the monument and in front of the murals, but for the most part I was too curious of the town next to the square, you could clearly see the difference between an American town and a Haitian town. There was laundry hanging outside people’s homes, carts filled with used clothes filled the crowded streets. Tin roofs and colorful buildings, all surrounded by vendors selling a myriad of things, from shoes to suits to sugarcane. Jacques bought sugarcane for those who wanted some. I got a huge piece, when I bit into it sweet water ran down my cheek, it brought me back to my childhood in Puerto Rico, this was nothing like the neighboring island to Haiti’s right, I saw no similarities and in a way I lost some of the naïve hope I had arrived with. After we found out the Chapel was closed to the public we got on the bus ready for the two-hour ride back, not expecting anything too exciting besides Jacques tales of Haiti’s history. As we were driving Jacques noticed a large crowd in a makeshift stadium to the right of the road. He asked the bus driver if it was a cock fight and the bus driver said most likely, so we turned around and headed to the crowded building to ask if we were welcome. The bodyguard came back with a smile saying “come you are welcome!”Cock Fight
As we walked through the door of the small “stadium” we were greeted with a tense air of rivalry and unease, men were shouting at each other waving money and showing off the strength of their roosters. The roosters had socks on their heads and strings around their leg where the owner could hold on while they did a trial run of the fight. We had just missed a fight; a bleeding limp rooster was brought out obviously the looser. There was no hope for his owner it didn’t seem like the rooster could recover. And it seemed no one was too eager to watch all his hard work go to waste again, no one made a bet, just shouted back and forth. While I was watching this a few children came into the small stadium and smiled at me. I waved and pointed at my camera “photo?” they smiled and nodded, I showed them the picture to squeals and laughter. This squeezed my heart; all of them were wearing tattered clothes and broken shoes, if they even had shoes, yet they could smile with such enthusiasm. One little girl caught my eyes; she had the most beautiful smile and seemed to be the leader of the group. I remembered I had bought a plastic lady bug bouncy ball to give to the kids of the orphanage later on, so I asked the bodyguard to walk with me so I could get it. As soon as I presented it to the girl with the smile it seemed the kids multiplied and even tripled, they began tossing the ball and playing soccer just outside the complex, in a field of rubble and rocks. They asked me to join them (from what I could understand) and Vincent Muhammad joined too, he was tired of the cock fight (by now someone had had the courage to bet and a fight had begun). This was the highlight of my day, we were finally experiencing life in Haiti, not from the bus but first hand, and I for one was in love with its people. I tired quickly so I left the children to play while I went back to watch the fight. It was definitely an interesting experience, you could almost smell the desperation, this was a month’s maybe a year’s wages on the line. One rooster seemed a bit ill matched and I figured it would loose. It’s neck feathers seemed thin compared to the other rooster. Eventually after 15 minutes of brutal pecking and loud cheers from the audience (Hah!) the bloody fight was stopped with a clear winner, the loser’s head hanging low unable to support it, as blood dripped from its eyes. As I watched the end of the match the children came back to the stadium, they stood behind me stroking my legs smiling as if saying, “we mean you no harm.” Later Jacques told me it was because they probably had never seen or been that close to a “white” person before, or as they called me, “blanc”. That was quite amusing, I would later experience skin stroking from children again. Apparently I was a commodity!Allors on Danse
After the cockfight we came back to the house exhausted but extremely satisfied and excited to have been a part of such a unique cultural event. Jacques had set up the outdoor speakers and the party began as soon the sun went down, it was one of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen. We began to relax as the music played. We danced to the sound of the ocean, under bright stars, I could see Orion’s Belt clearly here; it all seemed magical. The beach glowed, illuminated by blue lights on palm trees. Jacques mom, Chantal, and his aunt Maggie joined in the celebrations as we danced the night away, Alors on danse!