Of oranges, and walking, and sand.

Day three: Since it is the weekend we have two sort of holiday jaunts planned (it is spring break after all). I think both trips are designed to inspire us and/or show us the true realities of development. On Saturday we first head to the local market to interview people about charcoal and timber prices. The women who sell charcoal all tell us that they have walked three days from the mountains to get to the market. Given that the market is twice weekly I am incredulous. It seems that the woman just want to show how hard they work so we will pay higher prices. Two interesting linguistic things happen. First one of my companions and I lose the group. We try to ask where the other white people are to no response. I can only imagine that the Haitians were thinking “You’re right in front of me you idiot!” Later we try to buy an orange just to practice our Kreyol and haggling. My buddy speaks French so between the two of us we were doing ok but are stymied by explaining the exchange rate. At this point the fruit seller’s son comes up. He has worked in the Dominican Republic and speaks a little Spanish so we (eventually. in front of a gathering crowd of onlookers) negotiate the purchase of a few oranges at a fair price…..which turn out to be the super sour kind that you only use for making juice. No matter, we are still proud of ourselves.

From the market we head to TiFa’s sustainable farm/hotel/conference center. TiFa is a Haitian agronomist who pretends not to speak English and specializes in easily adoptable technologies.  We go on a 15 minute hike across the river (which we are later told likely hosts cholera) to see his fish farm, poultry and exotic birds operation and banana plantation. The fish are carp and tilapia. Carp grow large before reproducing but tilapia must be separated before they procreate in great number. As such, we learn how to sex fish, a skill I will be sure to put on my resume. The birds, ranging from chickens, geese, ducks and Guinea hens to peacocks and parrots, also reproduce continuously as TiFa puts their eggs under criollo hens to be incubated.  The peacocks cost thousands!

 We have a delicious lunch of okra, pickle, eggplant, roast goat, and a salad that looks to me like it can only bring death in that it is tomato and lettuce swimming in a puddle of water. I have been conditioned by Peace Corps to avoid such threats but I am reassured by the fact that TiFa actually has his own water purification plant. Reverse osmosis in the house! Once we are all stuffed and barely waddling we are brought on a “one hour” hike to see some original HTRIP plots designed to see the effects of species compositions and some of TiFa’s own trees. TiFa’s trees have actually been recently burned. Luckily the paths threading through the land have acted as a fire break. Throughout the long and sunny uphill walk we see women walking up with huge baskets on their head. I find it interesting that all of them step off the road to avoid walking between us even though we have left room. For the second time that day a small crowd gathers to see what the heck the “blonds” are up to. Even though we were at least a half an hour late and we could see the bus TiFa makes us walk even further. We later learn that he wonders why we always seem to be in such a hurry.

On one of the paths is a gourd filled with a few coins. One of the interns bends down to pick them up and is fairly tackled by the HTRIP program manager.  Evidently it serves as an offering to the gods and this poor intern came very close to being cursed. Throughout the week he recounts all the bad things that have been happening to him; he blames the gourd.

That evening we head to the hospital director’s house for drinks and casual conversation like real live grownups. The entryway is an old aquaduct that a Haitian tells us is from Columbus’s time although it is actually much more recent. The house is big and beautiful and designed by one of Frank Lloyd Wright’s protégé’s to be hurricane and earthquake proof: the roof is on rollers, the windows are slatted and the supports are concrete. We are treated to a small speech on the artistic stylings of Wright and also his personal proclivities before retiring to bed.

Day four: On Sunday two of us try to go to church. However it is the first time ever that Haiti has instituted daylight savings time so we find ourselves standing in the dark waiting for our escort in vain. We go back to bed before heading to the beach with looks like the entire international aid population of Haiti. The parking lot is packed with Red Crescent, UNICEF, UNDP, and USAID jeeps and the beach is crawling with Uruguayan and Brazilian peacekeepers. I am shocked by the steep entry fee of $20, the food prices on par with NY, and the lack of Haitian staff (most are actually Dominican). We swim out to an inflatable trampoline and I would have floated all day if Papa Gordon wasn’t more worried than I was about me getting a sunburn. On the bus ride home we drive through two parades and one wake….and we are theoretically refreshed for a week of work.