On the way to rainbows and butterflies

Day five: As a group we have decided to stay in town to interview some people. Unfortunately nobody told the group measuring trees that we weren’t going with them so there is some confusion and, I think, hurt feelings. First we investigate what has happened to last year’s group mango dryers. A severe problem in Haiti is malnutrition. Wouldn’t it be sweet if they had fruit and veggies year round? The dryers are around but not in use, not even the one in the HTRIP manager’s backyard. We talk with the American mechanic at the hospital who has decided to hire half of his recently-fired staff to build mango dryers and sell the product in the market. If they don’t turn a profit in a week, they are fired. This plan has several flaws: it is mango season so why in heck would someone buy a dried one; men do not sell things in the market; the dried mangos aren’t quite dry enough and therefore don’t store well.  Anyhoo, this guy is a character. A veritable genius (Carnegie Mellon robotics anyone?) who refuses to learn Kreyol he nevertheless imparts several insights on the culture:

“Haitians spend the most money on death, school, charcoal, and cooking oil in that order.”

“To figure out the culture here is like trying to psychoanalyze a teenager.”

“The strong survive. The weak die.”

Later that day we interview one of the technicians and realize that we have failed to explain ourselves when he finally asks us who they heck are we.  Oops. The interviews are enlightening. Most of the technicians believe that HTRIP is doing great work and has the interest of the Haitian people in mind. They are generally optimistic and constructive suggestions for future success. On the whole, problems cited are logistical. I hope that as we have provided a forum bring these ideas to the surface…where they will stay and be used.

Day 6: One day we head up to a community whose name I forget but we refer to it as “beyond Barbe,” Barbe being the furthest community that HTRIP is working in. My knees hurt so while the others hike the last few kilometers I endure the bumpiest ride to man. At one point I actually jump out of the jeep because it seems preferable to hobble than jolt. I have a strange crisis at one point. There is a teeny tiny market (ie four women selling tiny sandwich bags of noodles) along the road. Ross stops to buy a bag which prompts me to wonder if in his well-intentioned way of spending money he has just bought someone else’s very needed noodles. I mean these women probably don’t get new supplies very often. I don’t say anything. In “Beyond Barbe” we meet with the community to explain what HTRIP is and how it works. (Or rather we watch the meeting take place.) The way that the program works is that 30 people have to commit to participate the first year and that each year a new 30 will be trained in tree planting techniques. Coming from Bolivia, the least densely populated country in the Western Hemisphere, to Haiti, the most densely populated country, I keep finding myself thinking, “But where will they find 30 people all the way out here?” But there are people everywhere, even where it appears that only goats go. Additionally this land is steep and rocky and completely unsuitable for agriculture…but people plant on the stark hills. We are told that people arrive at the hospital with injuries caused by “falling out of their fields” and I can see how this happens. On the way back down I opt for the jeep once again and share a bench with the boniest man ever. He is so sharp that I wouldn’t be surprised if I have lasting damage.

Day 7: We sit in on a staff meeting. The staff good naturedly correct the American manager’s Kreyol. He handles it gracefully. I know that this week has been stressful. Suddenly 20 nosy graduate students have descended on his town to question the project as a whole and perhaps even his management. I can see how as a young buck faced by Yalies who appear to have more experience he could feel intimidated. We try our darndest to encourage him to apply at FES and remind him that our work has not been on the same large scale as his. Anyhoo at the staff meeting the technicians are encouraged to try chaya, a spinach-like plant that is grown as an ornamental in Haiti but which is superduper nutritious (and yummy!) They also pass around a bag of dried mangoes, completely independent of our nagging about the mango dryer sitting around in the tree nursery!

Day 8: Not only does it rain but also there is a blockade between out hotel and the hospital and HTRIP offices so we just hang out in the hotel. The next day (9!) we are encouraged to escape and so we plan a trip to a local waterfall. This is the only day that my knees and/or ankles do not hurt and I am assured that the hike is only 20 minutes. It turns out to be about an hour and a half so we swim for about a half an hour and head back. It was not the most phenomenally planned outing ever. We had been threatening a talent show for days so that night it was brought to fruition. Somehow we contracted a brass band to play for a bit and then acts included juggling, expanding stomachs, acapella (your very own Loggerythms), and other feats of daring and strength. The dancing begins soon after but as a swollen party pooper I go to bed early.

being talented

the waterfall!

we are easily amused

Day 9: The next morning we leave pretty darn early for the airport where the passport control tells me that I am too pretty to have a damaged passport. You spill one bottle of water and you’re nagged about it for ten years. We are told that all flights out are delayed but we are industrious graduate students. We watch a Bollywood film, pass around an old People magazine, play “guess which Asian persuasion,” and host a finger puppet dance video (after which we are chastised for being too loud). ..and then we fly home.

Postscript: At home I am lamenting the lack of food in my refrigerator when Nara stops by with beer and ice cream.

Postscripter: I find out I have Lyme disease. Hence all of the ridiculous swelling and soreness.

Postscriptest: And Haiti becomes rainbows and butterflies in my memories.