I landed in Port-au-Prince having travelled from three continents on three different flights from Kenya, totalling around 25hours in the air. Aside from trying to work out if I was awake or tired, hungry or full, pleased or disgruntled, enthused or fed up, I spent the first few days in Haiti just trying to ‘absorb’ it all. That, and cursing the far itchier-and-bitier-than-India mosquitoes.
The paradox of Haiti for me is in it being the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere (80% of the population live under the poverty line) yet abounding with citizens that are immaculately dressed. Really, it just doesn't make sense. Polka-dot skirts, Percil white button-up shirts, tight and elaborate dresses, children with bright plastic hair bobble adorned hair dos. Not a crease, tear or stain in sight. It's like your Sunday Best but seven days a week. I guess even in the face of all the dust, rubble, politics and social instability, Haitians still want to look good - and I can't deny that they really do put the effort in.
And whoever said India’s roads were bad??! Save use 4x4s here for good reason! Imagine pot-holes and now visualise them extending both the width and length of the road. The streets are literally scarred by huge crevasses, which are exacerbated by the heavy rains which turn streets into rivers and leave channels of rubble, wire and chunks of rocks scattered at random. Sweating against the plastic car seats, we get thrown around in the backs of vehicles and I already long to walk these streets.
People: Whilst I need to be careful about generalising here, Haiti seems to be an island of fairly unhappy people - and lets be fair, neither man nor nature has dealt them the best cards. A long, complex and bloody history of colonialism, slavery, brutal dictatorships, unchecked environmental degradation, invasions, uprisings, poverty, quakes and hurricanes, foreign interest and intervention (NGOs overwhelmingly so), military coups and repeatedly failed governance (pause for breath) seems to have left a sharp mark on people’s attitudes here.
It has struck me how embedded the cultural norm is to protest and seek revenge, usually violently, in order to vent frustrations and dissatisfaction. Whilst historically Haiti’s ‘government’ has always been overthrown through assassinations and coup d'états, such techniques seem to have woven themselves into the social fabric and extended themselves to cover a whole spectrum of complaints. Whether such means of expression are successful or not opens up an entirely new discussion, but what is certain is that such demonstrations do cause a lot of bloodshed, which often perpetuates the ‘eye-for-an-eye’ philosophy that is commonplace here; you policeman hit my wife with a stick, well me and my friends are going to shoot you on your walk home from work tomorrow*.
Another example, if you’re involved in a road accident in Haiti, instead of stopping to check everyone is okay, you hit the accelerator and get the hell out of there as fast as you possibly can. This sounds awful, and indeed it is, but if you hang around then you’re rather ironically in grave danger of becoming a victim, not of the car accident, but of the mob culture and you just damaged my car/you just broke my rib/how dare you disrespect me etc. scene that quickly develops. That is, a very nasty situation (even worse than the car accident) often ensues, with drivers getting killed through armed violence and the accusative outbursts that become embroiled in the scene. Scary stuff.
In summary I suppose it largely boils down to anger. I sense that there are a lot of angry people here, who don’t feel satisfied even when others try to help. Angry people who feel they deserve better. And admittedly, whilst I more or less just have, who am I to judge?
* Do please take on board that this can’t be representative of all Haitians nor all of Haiti, but is largely tied to my observations of the capital city and not the rural dwellers. That would be the equivalent of taking the dodgiest streets of Manchester and exclaiming how knifed-up and crim-infested Bath is.
I landed in Port-au-Prince having travelled from three continents on three different flights from Kenya, totalling around 25hours in the air. Aside from trying to work out if I was awake or tired, hungry or full, pleased or disgruntled, enthused or fed up, I spent the first few days in Haiti just trying to ‘absorb’ it all. That, and cursing the far itchier-and-bitier-than-India mosquitoes.
The first thing that really hit me? Was it the the dog-eared tarpaulin sheeting that over 500,000 people still shelter beneath, more than two years on since the earthquake? Perhaps the 'temporary' camps that take up every space that once was a park, an open space or public land? Nope. It was the total absence of number plates on all vehicles, not even on the newest of cars. The best explanation I’ve had is “it’s not required here”.
Other initial observations from the safety of the Save the Children 4x4 as it tried to negotiate the rocky roads: pervasive NGO presence throughout the city. Empty old sacks of rice from USAID are everywhere, propped on people's heads and now carrying kilos of mangoes and whatever else, branding in faded print: ‘a gift from the American people’ underneath the US flag. NGO billboards and their compounds, surrounded by high stone walls and topped with barbed wire. Weird solid plastic 'igloo' domes that some shelter charities distributed during the emergency phase, dotted around the place and now serving as useful clothes drying platforms and goat playgrounds.
The paradox of Haiti for me is in it being the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere (80% of the population live under the poverty line) yet abounding with citizens that are immaculately dressed. Really, it just doesn't make sense. Polka-dot skirts, Percil white button-up shirts, tight and elaborate dresses, children with bright plastic hair bobble adorned hair dos. Not a crease, tear or stain in sight. It's like your Sunday Best but seven days a week. I guess even in the face of all the dust, rubble, politics and social instability, Haitians still want to look good - and I can't deny that they really do put the effort in.And whoever said India’s roads were bad??! Save use 4x4s here for good reason! Imagine pot-holes and now visualise them extending both the width and length of the road. The streets are literally scarred by huge crevasses, which are exacerbated by the heavy rains which turn streets into rivers and leave channels of rubble, wire and chunks of rocks scattered at random. Sweating against the plastic car seats, we get thrown around in the backs of vehicles and I already long to walk these streets.
***
People: Whilst I need to be careful about generalising here, Haiti seems to be an island of fairly unhappy people - and lets be fair, neither man nor nature has dealt them the best cards. A long, complex and bloody history of colonialism, slavery, brutal dictatorships, unchecked environmental degradation, invasions, uprisings, poverty, quakes and hurricanes, foreign interest and intervention (NGOs overwhelmingly so), military coups and repeatedly failed governance (pause for breath) seems to have left a sharp mark on people’s attitudes here.
It has struck me how embedded the cultural norm is to protest and seek revenge, usually violently, in order to vent frustrations and dissatisfaction. Whilst historically Haiti’s ‘government’ has always been overthrown through assassinations and coup d'états, such techniques seem to have woven themselves into the social fabric and extended themselves to cover a whole spectrum of complaints. Whether such means of expression are successful or not opens up an entirely new discussion, but what is certain is that such demonstrations do cause a lot of bloodshed, which often perpetuates the ‘eye-for-an-eye’ philosophy that is commonplace here; you policeman hit my wife with a stick, well me and my friends are going to shoot you on your walk home from work tomorrow*.
Another example, if you’re involved in a road accident in Haiti, instead of stopping to check everyone is okay, you hit the accelerator and get the hell out of there as fast as you possibly can. This sounds awful, and indeed it is, but if you hang around then you’re rather ironically in grave danger of becoming a victim, not of the car accident, but of the mob culture and you just damaged my car/you just broke my rib/how dare you disrespect me etc. scene that quickly develops. That is, a very nasty situation (even worse than the car accident) often ensues, with drivers getting killed through armed violence and the accusative outbursts that become embroiled in the scene. Scary stuff.
In summary I suppose it largely boils down to anger. I sense that there are a lot of angry people here, who don’t feel satisfied even when others try to help. Angry people who feel they deserve better. And admittedly, whilst I more or less just have, who am I to judge?
***
The car honked twice and waited for the iron gates to slide on its runners. A guard dressed in khakis and black boots moved aside to let us through, slinging his AK-47 over his shoulder. His black baton tucked neatly into his waist-belt. As I stepped from the door of the jeep into the door of Save the Children's Port-au-Prince residence, I wished the driver "bonne nuit" and found my own way to an empty, stuffy room. I lay on the bed, realising I'd be going without dinner. As I heard the car drive off, it dawned on my that I was now to rely solely on vehicles and their drivers; my only means of movement...my only outlet to the outside world. I listened to the quietness of the house -deafening following so much recent travel- and I wondered if they sold corn on the cob at the bottom of the road. I tried the taps in the bathroom hoping to wash the sweat from my face - no water. I scratched my ankles, cursing the itchier-and bitier-than-India mosquitoes, then took a deep breath, bracing myself for another harder-than-it-should-be start to a new deployment.* Do please take on board that this can’t be representative of all Haitians nor all of Haiti, but is largely tied to my observations of the capital city and not the rural dwellers. That would be the equivalent of taking the dodgiest streets of Manchester and exclaiming how knifed-up and crim-infested Bath is.
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| Haiti is just a 2 hour flight from Miami and 50km across the water from Cuba. Here you can see the nice view I got of one of Haiti's islands before landing - Ile de Gonave. |
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| Just down the road from Save the Children office in the capital of Port-au-Prince. |
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| On my day off, I asked security to provide me with a driver to give me a 'tour' of PaP. The car also came with my own personal bodyguard for the day (!!). Here is the incredible Cathedral, which now hosts its religious meets in an established marquee next door. |
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| 96% of Haitians follow Christianity, with 50% of the population actively practising Voodoo alongside. (source: CIA World Factbook). |
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| The National Presidential Palace 'a clumsily dropped wedding cake' |
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| USAID tarpaulin, where a house once stood. |
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| Photography from a moving vehicle on these 'roads' results in 90879873001 crap shots, and a couple of worthy ones. |
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| In 1804 Haiti became the world's first ever country to liberate itself from slavery through successful rebellion. This commemorative statue shows a broken chain around the ankle of a slave finally freed from French colonial rule. The conch to his lips represents liberty - apparently they were often trumpeted to call gatherings; I've come across many washed up along the beaches here already. |
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| 'Le Negre Marron' in front of the Presidential Palace, clearly before the earthquake. |
