If you've been on the receiving end of this response to the question, or one similar, i can only apologise. I have found myself very stuttery and ill-equipped in the face of such interrogation. Indeed the reason for what is now nearly a two month delay in posting anything about it is that i've had (and continue to have) no idea how to construct a post that does it justice.
I've developed a number of ways of responding to people who've wanted to know about the trip based on how much time we have, how much they seem to actually care, and the nature of my relationship with them. You see, i was there for nearly four full weeks from early July to early August, and i can recall reasonably clearly most waking moments - except my more fevered waking moments. Stuff doesn't just pass you by in Haiti; it didn't become a blur of normality - for a 'blanc' like me life in Haiti is in too stark a contrast to 'normal' for it not to make an impact every waking moment. Nothing can be taken for granted, not even poo. (I had diarrhea for a fortnight - a new personal best. I spent a reasonable amount of time counting toilet paper sheets and fantasising about firm poo. I spent nearly 31 years without unpleasantries simultaneously spilling out of both ends, in Haiti i could only manage 5 days. It's a tough country).
I'm no better able to tell the story here than i can if you speak to me, when i think of Haiti my head swirls. Mostly with good things. Here are some recollections and reflections i'll pluck for you though:
The trip took in New York City, Port-au-Prince, and part of the North of the country around Port-du-Paix. These are 3 distinct places which, when held together in one's mind, show how small our world indeed is, as well as how great a disparity is contained within. NYC is one of the world's most powerful cities; when disaster strikes it fractures time. We now live in a 'Post 9-11 world', and we have very good ideas about all that that means. When disaster strikes Port-au-Prince, capital city of a country already on its knees, the fractured land can do little to rally its near impotent infrastructure. The North of the country is also a disaster zone, only, so silent and slow-burn was the tragedy that there doesn't seem to be a particular moment where it struck. And with that comes even less ability to grab itself by the lapels - let alone the rest of the world.
Over the mountain are more mountains - Haitian proverb. This refers to what Creole speakers call "Pwoblem". You might deal with one problem, but all we have is a huge collection of others. Haiti is an incredibly mountainous country, everywhere is uphill and you never feel like you're on top. It seems like that leads to a 'Well, that's my lot' mentality in the people who live there. This can be terribly disheartening and debilitating, but on the other hand it makes way for such beauty. On the sand-striped, filth and debris-laden beaches the very poorest children run, sing, skip, play and chase with exactly the same kind of abandon as any other children. The satisfaction with having work or with a completed a project is huge, as is the appreciation for the simplest things. The hospitality and reliance on community is humbling, so too the resilience of spirit and lack of expectations of 'what one deserves'.
This is a shot of what is now one of my favourite places in the world: an out-of-nowhere football pitch at the top of a mountain
Here is the majesty of the land, the joy and improvisation of the people, and the wonder of football.
I miss my friends in Haiti, but i can at least follow the work of 'Maison Despoir' (House of Hope), a Christian orphanage community who raise children without parents, or children whose parents can no longer afford them, or children whose parents are no longer interested in keeping or supporting them, on the House of Hope blog. You may be interested in doing so too, and i might well be back with more on this soon, since there's so much to say about how the Haiti trip was.
