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.

The Enchanted Waterfalls

Last Sunday we visited Sodo (Saut d'Eau in French), one of the most important spiritual sites in Haiti. As explained by Wikipedia, "the area holds cultural significance to both Catholic and Voodoo practitioners. In the 19th century, it is believed that the Virgin Mary of Mount Carmel (or the closely associated Vodou Lwa, Erzulie Dantor) appeared on a palm tree there. A French priest, afraid of the superstition this would inspire, cut the tree down, but it nonetheless became an important religious destination for Haitians, akin to the Virgin of Guadalupe in Mexico. Annually, the falls are the site of a large, important religious pilgrimage, during the festival of Our Lady of Carmel, from July 14–16. A Eucharistic rite is held during the festival, as well as various voodoo rituals, but the penultimate devotional activity is bathing in the waters of the falls, and asking favors of the Virgin or Erzulie"

And bathing we did. Under the falls themselves, the pressure was so strong that we could only bear it for a few seconds at a time. Most people are content to simply sit in the little nooks found on the rocks to enjoy the cool water going by (see photo on the left).

We really enjoyed the visit and were more than happy to talk to our co-workers about it the next day. To Tania's surprise some of her colleagues said they would never go because people there might curse you for life. Though we did see a few lit candles and other remnants of the July festivities, nothing looked too intimidating! Indeed, for us and for a few of the locals that were there, it seemed mostly like a nice place to relax and cool down on a Sunday afternoon .

We were joined on our trip by a few friends, including my fellow Bologna SAIS classmate, Ian. Together we decided this would be a great place to stage our summer dance. What, you ask? Well, our Masters class has decided to encourage everyone to submit a dance video from whatever part of the world they find themselves in. With our class spread over five continents, the full montage should be quite a spectacle once it gets put together.

Below is Ian and my contribution.

Finally in Port-au-Prince!

For those of you have asked Graham has been in Haiti since mid-June but I just arrived this weekend.

The flights from Vancouver and Dallas were rather uneventful. Then I made it to Miami where I had to wait for 4 hours for my connecting flight to Port-au-Prince. Slowly but surely fellow passengers started arriving to the lounge. First, a couple of Haitian families, then some very young looking girls and last but not least four groups in colour coordinated t-shirts.

The Haitians were all very well dressed so I assumed they were part of Haiti's minuscule wealthy class. A few moments later, I realized the man sitting next to me on the plane was having trouble filling out his immigration form. The other passenger on my row showed him the other side of the form written in French and Creole but he still seemed very perplexed. Then it dawned on me that he could not read or write. I asked for his passport information and filled it out for him, then turned around to realize the flight attendants were doing the same all over the plane. According to UNICEF about 45% of Haiti’s population is illiterate.

The second group in the plane turned out to be nurses who were coming to Haiti for a one-week volunteering program. The two nurses that I talked to were from Ohio and Tennessee. They were both in their early 20s and had never left the United States before. I asked if the volunteering program was part of their degree and they said it wasn’t. They had some time off and decided to get some field experience. They didn’t know exactly where in Haiti they were going or what type of facility they were helping at. They were unsure their program was at all connected to the local governments or any official health care program. There were another 22 nurses on the same plane. They brought lots of supplies and a lot of goodwill. The country needs all the help it can get, particularly in the health care area. But how much can they change in less than 7 days?

The third group was made of four small sub-groups. They were easy to tell apart due to their brightly coloured t-shirts in neon blue, pink, orange and yellow. Most groups had about 15 people. There were some very young boys, some older, they seemed fairly equally divided between men and women, there were also children with special needs, and a couple of mothers with their very young babies. So who were these people? After lining up to buy some coffee before boarding our 6:30am flight, I was finally able to read the t-shirts up close one by one: Methodist Relief Mission, then Haiti Adventist Group, then the Haitian Christian mission, and finally the Evangelical Mission.

To my very opinionated/ agnostic/ atheist friends out there...Any comments?

(*We also welcome comments from the rest of you!)