This is Haiti

Driving through PAP on the way out to the orphanage blew me away. If you’ve been to Mexico City, you’re familiar with two things: 1) crowded streets covered in poverty and 2) no rules of the road. Take your image of that and multiply it by 10. Eric told me that in Haiti they say there are “people upon people” . This is correct. People upon people. Everywhere.

Suddenly a UN truck cuts us off. In the back sit men in full armor with guns (AK-47’s or M-16s) in hand, ready to go. I guessed if I had to see guns like that right off it was best I saw the good guys with them. These are the good guys, aren’t they?

As we wound up the road to the orphanage, I cannot explain what I saw. And I have been assured this is by no means the worst of it. There are Haitians in every nook and cranny on the streets. Not only that, but the mass of people in that condition is overwhelming, even when you’ve read about it and you know it’s coming. As we rode up, I was told about the children at the orphanage. Most have parents elsewhere in Haiti, but the parents found a way to get them to an orphanage because they could not feed/take care of them. It made me wonder what would happen if orphanages for grown-ups were allowed. Would this simply handicap them more? Or is it just too late?

The other striking thing about Haiti is how poor the roads are. You cannot imagine the half-ass job of a paving mess these things are. I was told that one problem is that companies might do a very poor job or quit halfway because when the government in power is given money to fix something (by foreign aid) it usually goes into the pockets of the officials. They simply line their own pockets while they pay people doing infrastructure jobs less or not at all. How do you fix that? The elite care nothing for the destitute. In some ways this reminds me of the states, of Alabama. I am told (as I have read) that Haiti has many times been helped by the US and many times used by the US. I hope to examine these issues more.

We arrived at the orphanage and I was immediately mobbed by about 20 dark-skinned Haitian children age four to 10. So of course I began lifting them high in the air (like I was back at Appalachia Mission!) and making funny noises and stuff. They love it. I find myself spending the next few hours eating huge amounts of rice and beans and trying to speak with the children. We find little to speak about so we just hug and play and point at things and laugh.

There were dogs there too. As much as I love dogs I had a hard time spending much time with them because I kept looking at the children thinking “my animals in the states live more comfortable lives than these people do”. Over lunch Eric and his wife Jennifer laughed at my stories and impressions of Haiti thus far. They told me that in Haiti the saying is “TIH”, or “this is Haiti”. It is that unique.

After a wonderful meal (with some mystery meat) Eric took me down to the airport to find my luggage and look for my ride again. We walk into the airport and find about 20 rows of luggage on the floor in the middle of the airport (try to imagine this in ATL or Greenville-Spartanburg or wherever you fly out of). I see my Auburn bag and my other duffle bag. I figure surely we have to sign for these, so I walk over to the claims to show them my luggage ticket. The lady laughs and tells me to just grab my luggage and go, never looking at the ticket. My instinct sensed that nothing is being stolen though.

We walk back outside and simply stand there, hoping someone there knows me or where to take me. Finally a man walks up to me and unrolls a sign that says GOODWIN GHESKIO on it. He speaks little English (but enough) and takes me into the parking lot. There he puts my bags in the car of a driver (not him) who speaks no English. (Of course, I’m leaving out the part about giving a man five bucks to carry my bag 100 feet to the car. I want you to think I was able to resist this). As I get in the car, an argument ensues and I am told to put my luggage in another vehicle. All the while, they keep asking me the address of where I am going; I of course am never told this by my said Cornell contact (thank God I chat people up on plains and at bars and picked up tips about Haiti on the way!). The new driver then argues with my contact and 2 other drivers (and I guess he won?). Finally we are off- me and a random driver who speaks no English but apparently makes a good case as to why he should take me.

As we weave in and out of traffic honking (literally every 5 seconds) we narrowly avoid a woman and another vehicle (on either side). Wanting to make conversation I say “Bien!” and hold my hands up (isn’t this the universal steering wheel sign?). He is not amused. Seriously, no smile.
After awhile we finally arrive at the compound. This is gated and guarded. Three guards peer over the fence. My driver begins honking and then yelling out the window. The guards yell back. I have NO IDEA what anyone is saying. My driver is mad as hell and they don’t seem to want to let him in. A man walks to my side of the car as I pull out my passport and make some sort of “please let us in I am a stupid US citizen”. It must’ve worked (or was it the 20 I slipped him?); my driver peels a wheel on the way in, still apparently mad as hell.

He then begins asking me what unit in the compound I am in. Of course, I was never given this information despite repeated requests for travel information (who’s surprised at this point?). We randomly drive around and then begin knocking on doors asking people. No one seems to know. Finally some phone call is made (by driver to unknown) and the phone is handed to me while an English voice tells me to wait where I am (in front of one of the units) with my luggage and someone will be home soon. I tell the driver bye and sit on the curb with my luggage. This is Haiti.

A boy walks over to me and speaks with me. What a change from outside the compound. He is in 7th grade, über-polite, and speaks fluent French, English and Creole. A woman pulls up. She is an MD from UVA Medical here to do some clinic work and IRB writing. We chat for a moment. Then Karl pulls up in a van and is dropped off. This is one of my new roommates.
Turns out that the students I am staying with are Fogarty scholars (big deals- see :
http://www.aamc.org/students/medstudents/overseasfellowship/2008recipients.htm
Karl and Patrice are my roommates. Apparently they have done quite well! Me, on the other hand, have already fielded the question “So how does Kinesiology relate to HIV/AIDS relief work?” Fair question. Not sure I give a real fair answer. So I am the odd one for sure. Tomorrow I go visit GHESKIO.

Eric has mentioned that I can come up to the orphanage whenever I want; he told me that if I had nothing to do I was more than welcome to come help them give out rice in a local village tomorrow. Hopefully GHESKIO will have a good enough vibe that I won’t be thinking about going back up to the orphanage all day.

Finally, I must comment that I was too overwhelmed today to take any pictures. It didn’t feel right. It felt exploitive. However, I know I must so that others can experience this as well. Words don’t capture it all, no matter my effort. According to a 1998 World Bank Study, two-thirds of the population in PAP lives in slums. But when driving through, it’s hard to see the other third.

This is Haiti.