Crazy Cat Lady

If you and I have ever talked about pets, you know I’m not a cat person. I love dogs, and I have had a few other pets (duck, monkey, parrot among others) but I do not like cats. They are temperamental and selfish, they don’t cuddle, they disappear for days, and they don’t play with you. Well, I never thought this would happen but recently I have become a crazy cat lady! Welcome to the soap opera-like story that took place outside our door for a couple of weeks... 

A black cat and a white cat became friends and started hanging out a lot. They would always be at our doorstep in the mornings, and liked to sleep on our patio chairs. I asked our landlord if they were a couple and she said yes, “they are both female and one of them is gay”, which she was very thankful for because there would be no baby kittens running around her house.... 

You know where this story is going. Black cat was neither a female nor gay. One day we noticed the white cat was a little bit rounder than usual... A neighbourhood scandal, pregnant out of wedlock! Unsurprisingly, the black cat disappeared as soon as he heard the news. Days went by, and we came home one day to find she had given birth to 5 awful wet-mouse-looking kittens. Our neighbour gave her some milk and some love (we didn’t because a- I don’t like cats and b-Graham is allergic). 

But the babies kept getting cuter. They would come from under their mum, walk over each other, and slowly started resembling sweet baby cats. Then one day we came home and the cats were gone. We thought they had been given away but the landlord told us the mom had moved to a more secure location.

We forgot about the single mother and her 5 babies for a few days until we saw the white cat limping along on our parking space. It seemed she had been poisoned (or eaten a poisoned rat) and she was now unable to walk, feed the cats or even get up to where she had put them. To our surprise “the secure location” was the flower bed right outside our door. All 5 of them had been there all along and we hadn’t seen them for days (the 5^th one was given away).

Our neighbour explained that at 3 weeks old they were not able to lick milk for themselves so he fed all 4 of them with a dropper. When he wasn’t around, we started to do the same. I don’t like cats but these 4 were the cutest baby animals I have seen in a while. They would hide all they long in the flower plant, and come out to play as soon as we came back from work. Soon they started looking for us in the mornings too, and we would give them some milk and let them in for a few minutes before we went to work each morning. They were all eating by themselves now (and we were so proud!), could jump back up into the flower bed by themselves, and seemed to have developed more instincts.

One evening we came back and there were only 3 kittens. The 4^th one had been found dead. He was the smallest one, didn’t eat very much, and hardly moved all day. We kept feeding the other three but noticed that one was not growing as much as the others. Our neighbour was also very concerned and talked to friends who might be interested in adopting the kittens. 

Then one day we came home and they were all gone. He had taken them to the embassy where he works, and the two bigger cats, Ginger and Spots were quickly adopted (and now probably live in a house way nicer than ours!). Baby died soon after he left and now rests in cat heaven with his mum (poisoned), dad (ran over by a car), and siblings.

We miss their sweet tiny paws climbing over our legs, and seeing their cute little faces every morning before we went to work and every evening as we returned...

 by Tania

The End of the Elections and the Carnival President

Michel "Sweet Mickey" Martelly - (from: Reuters)

For those who have been reading this blog from the beginning, you may remember this post where I jokingly profiled the long-shot candidate Michel Martelly, the “other singer” (after Wyclef Jean) who was running for president. Well, on Wednesday he will be officially announced the winner of the elections and the next head of the Haitian state with over two-thirds of the popular vote (the preliminary results were reported on April 5).

Over seven long months the elections have faced many startling challenges. With cholera raging in the background, Haitians watched as the process was almost hijacked by fraud, delayed by international involvement and shocked by unexpected visitors. As Haitians celebrate the end of this grueling necessity of democracy, we thought the process was worth a little recap. Don’t be surprised if a movie script comes out on this one day.

The first round of elections was held on November 28th and was marred by irregularities and wrapped up in thick webs of domestic and international politics, causing the original vote count to limp along without denouncement or endorsement. However, when the preliminary results excluded Martelly from the run-off, street protests quickly erupted. The two days of rock throwing and tire burning (see pictures on our blog)

Baby Doc on his way back from the airport. -AFP
(from theage.com.au)

could only be ended by an international OAS investigation that recommended that Martelly be included in the final ballot after all. By this time, of course, it was impossible to keep the originally scheduled second round of voting in late January. As confusion over the postponement reigned, Haiti received the highly-unexpected return of its ex-dictotaor Jean-Claude Duvalier. For days, his spokesmen offered varying accounts of why he had returned, and the world held it’s breath that he would not endorse a candidate – or worse – proclaim his own candidacy. He eventually faded into his mountain chateau and has set his efforts to quietly defend against his health ailments and human rights charges, both of which seem to be gaining ground.

Meanwhile, outgoing President Rene Preval was taking advantage of a two month election postponement to extend his mandate to May, angering many. But by this point, election fatigue was setting in – most just wanted the second round vote to be over with. Yet there would be one more surprise. Forty-eight hours before the vote, exiled former President Jean Bertrand Aristide announced his pending arrival back from South Africa. Despite the passive-aggressive efforts of Barack Obama and Nicolas Sarkozy to block his return (at least until after the elections), Aristide calmly boarded a private jet and flew back to his island to be welcomed by thousands at the airport. He calmly addressed the crowd and the media in five languages and called for transparency and unity. To the relief of many, he stopped short of any inflammatory remarks that would have sent the elections into a tailspin. In fact, he did not call on an election boycott and has mostly remained silent since his arrival. (Below- News clip from AlJazeera)

In the end, the second round elections did finally take place on March 20th and were considered to be the most peaceful in Haitian history. The vote tally then reflected the expectations of the population and for only the fourth time in history since Haiti’s independence in 1804, people were able to chose their leader. The celebrations have been loud and joyous – surly a good sign for the beginning of a presidency. But don’t get your hopes up, my Haitian friends have warned, these same people may be calling for his resignation in six months. After all, he is a carnival signer with no political experience and a fair share of shadowy connections to the past dictatorship. But for now, let’s just all enjoy the fact that the election circus is over.

We filmed this from our rooftop

Another weekend discovery

Last weekend we once again successfully escaped Port-au-Prince to enjoy another new excursion – camping on Cocoye beach.

It’s hard to imagine that during our first two months here in June and July, we hardly knew what do to with ourselves on the weekends. Haiti seemed to be void of weekend options for foreigners. Our choices seemed limited to the hotel pools or the few beach resorts two hours north of the city. Now, of course, we realize it’s because we just didn’t know where to go. Haiti does a good job of hiding its treasures – but it will eventually reveal them to you once you’ve taken the time realize that it’s got a lot more to offer than just problems and despair. It is, after all, a mountainous island in the Caribbean.

Our latest adventure involved a relatively painless car journey to Petit Goave, about one hour west of the capital, which would then be followed by a 1 hour boat trip to the beach. We met our boat - a 15ft sturdy open dingy pushed by a wildly underpowered outboard engine – on a pebble landing spot. We loaded it up with equipment and bodies, and set out putt-putting along the coast past cliffs, over coral and finally arriving at a golden beach with a turquoise coloured sea that I thought only PhotoShop could create.

For the next 24 hours we were treated to four meals, accompanied by wine, beer, rum and whatever else emerged from the bottomless cooler that had been provided to us by our Haitian host (an enterprising restaurant owner who had travelled with us from Petit Goave). We met a wonderful group of people from all over Europe, Canada and the US. By now, it’s easy to label those that are “fresh off the plane” and the “veterans” that have been here for a while. It’s crazy to think that we are now considered to be part of this latter group, as if nine months had made us experts on this secretive and complex half-island.

By now, the conversation takes predictable turns. You surf through the usual topics – employer, nationality, and last country you worked in. Then you move to find common ground by complaining about the non-workings of Haitian law, society and politics. From there, one of you tries to sound thoughtful with an anecdote of a positive story that, if extrapolated, could one day bring the country to either prosperity (“fresh off the plane” people) or at least dignified poverty (“the veterans”). Numbers and emails are exchanged. A couple of cold beers appear while somebody offers up a bottle of sunscreen – two essential elements to battle the beaming midday sun.

I awoke that night to a friend asking me if we should be afraid of the local men making the strange noises. I immediately heard the sounds of a ra-ra band drifting over from the far side of the beach. I stumbled out of the tent into the cool sand and we walked a little ways towards a bonfire surrounded by a dozen men dancing to the sounds of bugles and drums. My friend was convinced it was vodou and unwilling to approach further. It just looked to me like a late night party. As we turned away and walked back to the tents, I couldn’t help being struck with what pathetic “veterans” we were, and how little we all still know (or are willing to find out?) about this country.

The next afternoon we piled onto the same boat. The motor whined as it pushed a load well beyond anything the manufacturer would have recommended. Sleepy from sun, food and drink, we barely talked as we slid past the shore, back to our air-conditioned cars and the city that awaited us before our evening curfews.