Visitors!!! Part II

Former President Aristide returns....

In case you need a recap, 4 friends were coming to visit us. Their visit was nicely timed with elections, and the return of an ousted President.

During all of March there had been rumours about former President Jean Bertrand Aristide returning to Haiti. Then, days before our friends’ arrival, the exiled former president said he would be returning to Haiti before the elections. And the day before our friends were scheduled to arrive, the news confirmed that he would fly in on exactly the same morning as them. The country immediately started hyperventilating – now it would have both former right-wing dictator Baby Doc Duvalier and former leftist populist president Aristide in the same country, moments before the tightest election in Haiti’s history.

Our NGOs went on high security alert. We were instructed to come home early, avoid meetings near the airport, and stay inside for the next few days. Nobody knew what Aristide’s return would bring, or how people would react. Our friends had signed up with my organization to volunteer during part of their visit and I was asked to tell them to cancel their flight. We wouldn’t be able to pick them up as the road to the airport would be off-limits that day.

We talked to our Security advisors, thought about worst-case scenarios, and based on the previous elections weekend concluded that the risk was low. The decision was of course on their hands but we would provide them with as much information as possible so that they could make an informed decision.

We then proceeded to try to reach our friends. For once, internet was working at home, and they were both often online. Except it was St Patrick’s Day and they were out celebrating... “Please call us back tonight” emails and voice mails ensued, and then we finally got in touch with them. We told them they might have to wait for a long time at the hot, uncomfortable hangar that is Haiti’s International Airport. We would do our best to pick them up as soon as the crowds cleared. It was of course understandable if they would prefer to cancel their trip. But of course they didn’t!

They are studying International Relations and Development, this is the stuff they debate in classes for hours, and write essays on! The Aristide story made them quiet popular during the rest of the St Paddy’s festivities, and a few hours later they were on their way.

Luckily the airport road cleared very quickly after Aristide’s speech and they were shortly on their way to Tania’s NGO building. The sleeping bags and “Emergency Food” that had been packed in preparation for possibly having to be at the airport for a long time, were quickly unpacked at our place. We then settled for a couple of quiet evenings in our house until the elections passed with very few incidents, and then were able to enjoy just a few but incredible days with them in Ayiti Cherie. These are some of the pictures they took:

Visitors!!! – Part I

Timing is everything....

Among preparing for elections protests and subsequent lock-down, weekend escapades, going to an Arcade Fire concert, preparing for hurricane season, etc, by far the happiest part of the last few weeks was having visitors! Yes, you read that right. Friends came to visit us in Haiti.

Our friends here didn’t believe us (nobody here gets visitors!). The answer was always “No, really, who do they work for?” But it’s true. We were fortunate enough to have 4 of our closest friends come and visit us during their spring break, not because they were on “short-term missions” or doing “a week consultancy work”. They came just to visit us and see the many faces of Haiti.

And of course this being Haiti, their trip was not drama-free. So much happened that I will break this entry into three posts so you don’t get bored with me!

The drama mostly resulted from the timing of the visit. In January, when our friends asked if it would be a good idea to spend their spring break here, we said “YES! Come and visit us in March!” – How about these dates? -“That’s great!” We both said. Back then, the election process was a complete mess: The OAS was writing a report on who really won the first round, the announcement dates were being debated and rescheduled, and nobody really knew what would end up happening.

We knew the second election round would be around March. However, not wanting to let uncertainty dissuade our visitors’ visit, we turned a blind eye to the disorder and told them to go ahead and book their tickets – what was the worst that could happen?

Well, the worst that could happen was that the government scheduled elections for the weekend they were going to be here. Even worse, we were being told that we had to prepare for lock-down. That meant that our weekend plans quickly went down the drain. Instead of enjoying the wonderful two-day hike and beach trip, our friends would have to be housebound.

“That’s ok!” our friends said. “We’ll do some work, and get to watch the elections from your rooftop.” They were excited to come to a third world country during elections! Their families were not pleased but their colleagues from their Masters were jealous. Thank goodness for their International Relations/poor country-loving, inquisitive minds!

And so March arrived, and they got the necessary vaccines, bought mosquito repellent in all its forms, printed and packed “light” reading on the history and the politics of Haiti, and got ready to come to Port-au-Prince.

One of them was getting in two days early. After some juggling I was able to go to the airport to meet him. Except I couldn’t find him at the airport. The driver was there, had his name, and had arrived early enough but our friend was nowhere to be seen. Frantic calling ensued. Graham hadn’t heard anything, we couldn’t get through to his US phone, and there was nothing else to do but wait until every passenger from that flight had gone through customs. But I had to get back to work so I told the driver to bring him to the warehouse where I’d be working, hoping that he had made it onto the plane and was just delayed somewhere in the airport.

Everything was fine -it turned out the flight was late. However, the next day we had another “missing friend” moment when Graham and I met at home the next day thinking that the other person was in communication with our friend. He had stayed at our house to do some work, had texted us in the afternoon and had left us a note saying he was going to a hotel nearby to check his email. By now it was 8:00pm, dark, and just two days away from the elections. He didn’t have a phone and neither of us had access to a car to go look for him very far. The panic didn’t last very long. He came home and explained that he wanted to give us some time alone given that we were hosting people for the next few days.

The next day the 3 of us were shocked by the news. Former President Aristide was coming back to Haiti. He was flying back that same week, and the same day that our other two friends were scheduled to fly in. What’s worse and for reasons that only Murphy can explain, he was scheduled to land at the same time as our friends....

Haitian mothers

There was surprisingly little publicity around Mother’s Day in Haiti. Perhaps they don’t celebrate it in May, or maybe we just missed it all. And yet... there are mothers everywhere! Every second girl that we see is pregnant, or holding a young baby, or taking a little one to school. In any conversation about family all you always hear is my mother is this, she sacrificed this much for me, I would do anything for my mother. Sometimes the phrase morphs into my sister raised me, or my grandmother takes care of my babies, my aunt let me moved in after the earthquake...mum, sister, grandmother, aunt... Elle...toujours elle.

It is a very sexist society, and yet has your country had a female presidential candidate? Contrast, irony, the inexplicable. That's Haiti.

Happy mother's Day! To all the mother's out there. The ones with the baskets in their heads, and the days-old baby on their knees at the market, holding them tightly in what passes as public transportation, grabbing the tiny hands in the dark while crossing the street at night.

To all mothers, our mothers, and grandmothers, our friends who have started a family and to the mothers to be that we are dying to see.... Valerie, this is to you as well, Happy mother's day my friend!!!

A picture is worth...

many many blog entries?


We have so much to tell...I changed jobs, we moved apartments, we had VISITORS!!, Arcade Fire came to Port-au-Prince, Haiti has a new president....

But in the meantime I thought I'd post a few pictures taken by our friends last month. They captured so many images that we see every day but somehow have failed to photograph.

These images here include the view from our old rooftop, a market, the ubiquitous tents, a typical lunch stop, and a tap-tap, or the most colourful bus you've ever seen!

Enjoy!

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.

Faces of Carnaval

When Carnival came around last year, Port au Prince was in no shape to celebrate. This year, there was a modest come-back of  this beloved holiday. Though locals assured us that the parades, music and celebrations were mere shadows of their former selves, we thought it was a wonderful display of community and colour. The sense of pride and self-assurance was unmistakable as the parade danced past the fallen palace and the tent city of the down town square. I asked Jean-Claude, one of our drivers who just happened to run into us on the parade route, if he thinks Carnival will be back up to his standards in a few years. He roared with laughter and said, "you'll just have to come back to see for yourself".

Yes, even cholera deserves a spot in the parade!

Isolated Poets

It’s a useful reminder for those of us “NGOers” that are based in the capital that there is much more to Haiti than Port au Prince. My trip last week took me to the far-flung provincial capital of Jérémie in Grande Anse. Founded back in 1756 under French rule, it became known as the “City of Poets” in honour of its artistic community. Its people suffered oppression by the Duvalier regime in the 1960s for daring to mount a political opposition, isolating it even further.

Even with vastly improved roads that cut through the mountains towards the southern highway, it still takes almost 10 hours to get to the capital by car. Thankfully, a roughly cut landing strip and a dodgy airline make this journey possible in 45 minutes by air. As we circled over what appeared to be a large leafy fishing village, I wondered what it would be like to be in a town that had for once benefited from being so far away from Port au Prince. After all, there was no earthquake damage here which means no rubble, no dramatic reduction of schools or clinics, and most of all, no camps.

The plane seemed to skim the tops of the palms on our rapid decent to the landing strip – clearly the rocky track was short enough to make it important to not waste any of it. We thumped down and bounced along with the props roaring in reverse. After a minute or so, the pilot stopped the plane (no need to taxi or “park”), slid out his sunken cockpit door and opened the cabin door for us. We had arrived.

The reason for my trip was to observe a human resources work shop that my colleague was running with the departmental government. Strategic plans are few and far between in the public sector if Haiti, and this is particularly noticeable with the lack of HR planning – nobody can really tell you what they need, why and where they should hire from. But this exercise is fraught with structural shortcomings, such as lack of funds and over-centralization. The government in the capital has very little money to hire workers in the departments. Its obsession of control (and concern of multiple levels of corruption) means that the minister needs to sign every letter of nomination for new hires – be they doctors or janitors. In short, Port au Prince – as far away as it is – controls the fate of the local institutions in Jérémie. So, the planning workshop will not have immediate results, but it will provide the local government with the data and reports to lobby their distant ministry counterparts for targeted and specific HR needs.

It was most definitely a wonderful reprieve from Port au Prince. A seaside town of about 150,000 inhabitants, Jérémie gives you the sense that it’s in no rush. People saunter down the streets and cars move uncharacteristically slow and steady. The main street sidewalks are covered by arcades that shelter merchants from the sun. Green bushy trees seem to sweeten the salty air. The garbage is less abundant, or perhaps just better hidden. The difference couldn’t have been more stark from the dilapidated capital which struggles amongst the rubble, litter and now the dust of the dry season. But make no mistake, Jérémie is no haven of development. Decades of isolation have slowed the building of schools and clinics and the agriculture industry limps along in the shackles of farming practices from a bygone era.

Yet it was important to see Jérémie to get a better sense of what Haiti is like once you strip away the complexities of urban congestion and earthquake damage. In fact, the relative simplicity of working in “les provinces” is in a strange way comforting and enviable. But this also might be just a reflection of a cute little town that captured my imagination and gave me a break from the big city. Next time I intend to find the poets.

Where in the world is SAIS?

A few months ago, you might have seen a random dancing video that my friend Ian and I performed in front of a waterfall. That clip was combined with those of our classmates from the School of Advanced International Studies (SAIS) all over the world. The video was dedicated to our dear friend Julia who we all lost to a terrible accident in the fall.

The video went viral amongst our university community, so we're doing a second round. Niraj (who I also went to school in Bologna with) and I took advantage of our time in Colombia together over Christmas to file this equally random video.