If you were in Port-au-Prince on a Saturday night with us, these are the people you might end up hanging out with:
Los Diplomaticos: From Argentina, Colombia, Brazil, Chile, Guatemala, Mexico. They have usually just graduated from school and are on their first post as Diplomats. The “hardship” of this post will guarantee that their next job will be in a place with working traffic lights…like Paris or New York. We speak Portu-nol together, or mostly the Brazilians integrate into the dominating Spanish conversation. Incredibly welcoming, nothing is ever planned in advance, the food is always good, the music is always loud.
The Irish: From one island to another. There are several NGOs, one telecommunications company, a security company - if you’re in Haiti you just can’t escape the Irish. And thank goodness for that. But unbelievably, there’s still no Irish Pub in town (though one is planned!) They are always up for a good time, I do not always understand what they say, but the little I understand is very funny! Can’t keep up with their beer drinking, but have learned to appreciate a hot cup of tea in +35C weather…
UN police: Some of the best parties we have been lucky enough to attend, were organized by groups of men in tight shorts (because they are usually held at gigantic compounds, and the party is always near the pool—and men from developing countries love their tight shorts). The man-woman ratio is about 10-1, the directions to the location are always terrible but you can find where you’re going by the dozens of white UN cars parked outside blocking the main road. Special mention for a party thrown by the Spanish SWAT team…ahhhh, lobster BBQ, and sangria buckets J
Library-goers: The Colony Club deserves its own separate entry. It is thanks to this library though that we have met a group of wonderful Haitian-Canadian/American couples that have been in Haiti for a long time. As in for the past 30 years. Oh, the things they have seen and lived! We see them almost every Friday, or every second Friday when there’s wine at the library J
Las Colombianas: During most of the winter we would end up as the same parties as a group of Colombian girls working for different organizations. Some of them had arrived right after the earthquake and had had to live in camps with up to 300 soldiers (and only 1 shower!). Beautiful, smart, multilingual…and a disappointment to the young men around them as most of them are here with their boyfriends.
Canadians: in times of Hockey play offs, crazy Canadian elections, maple syrup scarcity, or just plain homesickness, how lucky we are to be able to work, go to the library, search for a new restaurant, or just hang out and watch hockey with other Canadians. We love the familiar slang, similar complaints, trouble finding cheap tickets to Vancouver… and the niceness of them all.
Quebeckers: If Montreal seems a bit emptier these days it’s because half of their highly educated, well-travelled, perfectly bilingual youth have moved to Port-au-Prince! They are, seriously, everywhere. NGOs, UN, International Organizations, Consultant firms, private sector, government jobs…everywhere you turn there’s a Quebecois running a meeting (here a separate category from the Canadians, just as my previous co-worker would have it… Mr. V- I miss working with you!)
Free-lance journalists: A South African friend once told me that in real life, aid workers don’t live adventure-filled lives and move around on the back of pick-up trucks, but reporters do. Only journalists live like aid workers are portrayed in the movies. And it is true. While we move around in SUVs, and live in nice places, these guys are on their own. Nobody picks them up at the airport, they don’t receive security warnings. When there is a crisis and you can see fire from your rooftop, the NGO workers stay in their compounds, and lock our doors as instructed. The journalists see the fire, smile, grab their cameras, put on a helmet (or a bandana) and off they go. On foot, a moto-taxi, on the back of a pick-up truck, looking for a story, hoping for a good picture.
Jaded “citizens of the world”: Last but not least, the most interesting and less interested group. They are veterans, been on the road for so long they can’t remember if they were in Afghanistan or Sudan before coming here. Big titles, big money. They speak that heavy accented-English that you just can’t place, wear khaki trousers, haven’t shaved in a while, always tell crazy stories. It doesn’t matter where they were born, they don’t identify with any nationality, they could pack and move to another crisis right then and there. Nothing faces them anymore…And they make you fall in love in development work and wish you never end up like them all at the same time.
Unfortunately some of these people have already left Haiti, gone home, off to their next mission, learning new acronyms, meeting new friends in a new place…. It was an honour and a pleasure to have met you! Hope to spend another weekend night with you again someday :)
