The Travels of Dave: 2010

Hey everybody,

In order to best appreciate Haiti, or at least Port-Au-Prince (PAP), one must have the ability to embrace chaos. Over the course of two weeks the best I was able to do was accept chaos, which I think is pretty good for my first time there. I'm not simply talking about traffic or human chaos, though there's a lot of that, but I'm also talking about social and political chaos. There are many assumptions that someone from the "first world" has about society in general that need to be either forgotten or ignored in order to successfully navigate through an environment like the one in PAP. For anyone considering traveling to Haiti, I'd suggest trying a middle-of-the-road country before plunging in... maybe something in southeast Asia or South America? What would you call that, a "gateway country"?

Port-Au-Prince is pleasantly innocuous-smelling, other than when you drive by an open sewer or a pile of burning tires and/or garbage. Traffic laws, if they do exist, are loosely followed except (mercifully) at stoplights, but that gives the twelve kids hanging out on the center divider have enough time to try and hustle you for some money. A smoothly paved road is a distant dream, as is pretty much any sort of public sanitation. Crumbled buildings line the streets, blackouts are commonplace, and power lines coalesce into rat's nests that sometimes lie barely overhead.

Tammy booked us in at a hotel called the Visa Lodge, which with its immaculate bungalows and pristine pool doesn't look like it belongs even on the same planet as the rest of PAP. It was at times jarring to travel from a slum to a pool in less than 15 minutes, especially in a place where water is such a precious commodity. In order to make up for that, as some sort of mind-numbing torture they would keep the television set to ESPN news 24/7. It's hard to wrap your mind around working in one of the poorest slums in Haiti then seeing a channel dedicated entirely to speculation about whether or not Brett Favre is going to play football this year. We would have to seclude ourselves in the safety of the Man Cave, our dungeon-like room underneath the dining hall which quickly assumed the lovely aroma of stale beer, gummy vitamins, and balls.

From Helping Tammy

Over the course of the two weeks there were anywhere from three to nine of us working together because of our staggered arrival times. Max, Rich, Jeremy, Tammy and I all knew each other from Thailand. Cari (a director with Tam's charity) and Jamie are Tammy's friends from Kingston. Nelson is an ex-Army engineer that Tammy hired to come help with the construction and design of the medical clinic. Last but not least was Dr. Larry (aka Boot Pep) who is not really a doctor but plays one in Haiti. He also likes to take pictures of people's asses. This was Larry's seventh trip to Haiti since the earthquake.

HTHH (Help Tammy Help Haiti) focuses its work in a small area of Cite Soleil known as Boston. For a bit of background you might want to check out the short Wikipedia article on Cite Soleil located HERE, though what it describes is only the tip of the iceberg. Here's a video of us driving through Cite Soleil:

As we were driving in on my first day the car was surrounded by a bunch of half-naked kids chanting "Ta-mi! Ta-mi!" which I assumed she had set up by bribing them with candy but actually turned out to be a recurring event. Every time we got out of the car we'd be assaulted by a group of at least six kids who wanted us to hold their hands or carry them and, of course, hardly any of them were wearing pants.

My first couple of days involved some work in the existing clinic that was built by a missionary group called Mission Ranch. I wouldn't really call what I did "work" since it involved handing Larry and/or Tammy any number of creams, vitamins, pedialyte pops or painkillers while they were examining a patient. I learned certain subtleties of the medical practice, such as the use for "vag packs" and the number of acceptable observers when Tammy is examining someone for hemorrhoids (three). From my short time as a de facto nurse practitioner it is painfully obvious that there exists a fundamental lack of infrastructure and understanding of even the most basic health care practices in Port-Au-Prince, or at least Cite Soleil. When we arrived in the morning there was often a line out the door to the clinic, and most of the ailments were treatable with remedies that you or I could find at our corner drug store. Compounding the problem is the lingering belief in voodoo which often pits the witch doctors' remedies in direct conflict with the application of modern medicine.

Infant care is particularly atrocious, which is not necessarily surprising when as Larry told me the mortality rate is so high that they don't celebrate a child's birthday until they're four or five years old. The birth of a child is often regarded as the burden of another mouth to feed rather than a cause for celebration. Many pregnancies are unwanted since it's not uncommon for girls to be raped at some point in their teenage years.

We had one case where a mother brought in a baby girl who was less than two months old and so emaciated that I could count her individual ribs. One of Larry's hands could almost wrap around the baby's entire body. It was difficult to figure out why the baby was so malnourished; we have to work through translators and sometimes the parents or patients are either despondant, ignorant, or outright reluctant to answer questions. In this case, the mother was only sporadically breastfeeding the baby for some reason that was unclear. The baby seemed like it was asleep, but when we gave it some pedialyte it perked up and started squirming around, after which I was able to feed her about an ounce of formula since that's all she could handle. Larry and Tammy gave the mother some formula to take home but emphasized that she needs to continue trying to breastfeed the baby since a mother can stop producing breast milk in as few as three days and there's no way she'll have enough access to formula to keep the baby alive. She was supposed to come back to check in with the baby a few days later but we never saw them. A week later Larry did manage to bring another baby that was in a similar condition to the hospital for treatment.

I found myself more comfortable with the construction work after we broke ground on the future HTHH medical clinic. Our team was used mostly for grunt work such as digging and moving earth and concrete while the Haitian team led by their engineer Jackson performed most of the skilled labor. In the short time I was there, we managed to dig and pour the concrete for the foundation, lay the rebar and the columns for the base, and wall up and fill the level up to the first floor. I left before the first floor pour, unfortunately, but you'll be able to see more detail from the pictures and video:

One random fact you may not know about Haiti: It's hot! Yeah... I was surprised too! Also... construction is hard work! I know, these facts are shocking. I was so gnarly with sweat and dirt at the end of the day that even the Haitian kids wouldn't touch me. They would just come up and poke me with a finger, look up and say "sal" and walk away. I'd like to point out that Tammy assured us we'd have "four or five" cement mixers available, but she failed to mention that in Haiti a cement mixer means two guys with a shovel. We required many (many) breaks. During one of our many (many) breaks Max asked me if it was the heat or if we were just five years older. I had to admit it was probably both. Even though I age backward like Benjamin Button. Mentally.

In addition to the work itself, there were constant reminders of the dangers of working in Cite Soleil. We were always accompanied by one or more of Tammy's security team to try and avoid any trouble. Even the short 50 yard walk from the Mission Ranch clinic to the construction site required an escort. Occasionally we would see a U.N. armored transport cruising by, but most of the local "law enforcement" is provided by the gangs. Perhaps one of Tammy's most remarkable accomplishments is the bond she's been able to forge with the local gang leaders in Boston whereby they not only tolerated but welcomed our presence and understood the benefits that Tammy's work could provide their community. That understanding only has a radius of a couple the couple of city blocks that are our gang's territory, and any venturing out of that area is asking for trouble. To be fair, though, the most dangerous part of our day usually involved Tammy's driving us to the worksite.

From Helping Tammy

About a week into it, we were invited by the locals to a football match between Boston and another team on a late Saturday afternoon. The match itself was an incredible experience. It was played on a concrete basketball court which was completely surrounded by people at least five deep. Being that we were the only blancs in attendance we garnered quite a bit of attention, but it was all positive. I have to admit that I was a bit concerned at being one of the six white people in a crowd of a couple of hundred locals in one of the poorest slums in Haiti, but that concern dissipated after only a few minutes, and by minutes I mean beers. Kids were running up and grabbing our legs asking to have their pictures taken, our friends from the clinic and the construction site were buying us drinks, and we even got high-fives from one of the players after one of Boston's goals. There was a play-by-play guy who liked to scream and play sounds of gunshots through the P.A. system, which was fun for everybody. We were also treated to a bizarre and disturbing halftime show involving 8-year-old girls grinding like extras from a Britney Spears video. Good times.

On the way home the six of us piled into the truck and took the road between Boston and Soute with Tammy taking pictures of the sunset out her driver's side window. This is probably the point where we should've had our guard up but hey, we spaced out... we're only human. Tammy hit the brakes as one guy moved out in front of the car looking as if we were going to hit him. Next thing we know there are two handguns through the driver's side window as a couple of guys are struggling to grab Tammy's camera. Tammy wisely gave it up after a few seconds of struggle and the guys ran off. It all happened so quickly that, being in the back seat, I only realized what was going on after the fact. I remember a black gun and a silver gun being waved around at the girls (Tammy, Cari and Jamie were in the front seats), one of which was against Tammy's head, and that's about it. We hauled ass out of there and didn't stop until we reached the hotel. Tammy took it hard, more so because she's the team leader and felt badly that the team had to experience it than anything else. From my end, I felt that it was a good thing to happen. No one was hurt and though we did lose a camera we were also reminded of the environment we were in and that we have to be aware at all times. We found out a few days later that one of the thieves was killed when they tried to pull the same thing on a Haitian driver who didn't stop and just ran the guy over.

We had a couple of other incidents that affected us more indirectly, such as was when a couple of gangs came looking for each other down the streets of Boston requiring us to hide out in the clinic building until things blew over. It was obvious that they weren't interested in us because they knew exactly where we were hiding. Still, when you're walking down the street and you see anxious locals scattering back to their homes it's probably a good idea to follow the security team back into a the building and chill out for a bit.

(P.S. There is no need to mention the content of the preceding two paragraphs to my grandma so... be cool.)

I think we made some friends in Boston once we showed that we only wanted to work hard and help out in whatever way we could. Here are a few standouts that I've stolen from Max's notes with comments from both of us:
Jonbenson- That's his name. Not just Jon, you have to say Jonbenson. Good kid, hung out a lot with us, got made fun of because people said he looks like King Kong.
Peter- Good guy. Slow talker. Kept wanting to hook us up with his sister.
Milot- Mutt-faced security guy with a constant scowl, which is what you want in a security guy.
Dodes- Young, flirty girl who hangs around the clinic and the worksite. Will probably get somebody killed someday.
Ken Ken- Tall young kid who loaned me his Kreyol-English dictionary. Used to be a child soldier for one of the gangs but was rehabilitated. Has a chip on his shoulder but a good heart.
Clifton- Nice kid who translates and wants to learn English. Changes clothes a couple of times a day, doesn't like to get dirty.
There were loads of other memorable characters that you can see in the pictures and videos. The locals that worked with us were paid $5 per day, and the labor was coordinated by Jackson who was the local engineer responsible for construction.

We managed to have a few laughs mostly thanks to the discovery of Bavaria beer at the local Texaco station. They give you 50% more! For free! And trust me on this when I say that we had days where cries of "50% more" are what kept us going. I would also like to share with you the joys of goat meat, which I assure you is not a primer on bestiality but an endorsement of Goat Kreyol. And if you love rice and beans... this is the country for you! Know who loves rice and beans? Larry! He can't get enough. Rice and beans and protein bars! Boot Pep, this is for you:

From Helping Tammy

Some of the guys on the worksite would try and teach us Kreyol... they would sing this song that over and over again about "craisson" which we eventually found out means watercress. The obsession with watercress remains a mystery. Also, if you ever want to impress Haitians on a construction site tell them "Mwah mange ciment, caca beton" which means "I eat cement and shit concrete." It's money in the bank. Rich was often compared to either Jesus (because of the hair) or a vampire (because of his freakish canines). We became a popular attraction simply by virtue of the fact that we spoke English, so random dudes would show up to practice chatting or to ask us about obscure tenses and conjugations. And it was always dudes... the only woman we ever saw between the ages of 10 and 40 was Dodes, which in retrospect is kind of weird. They were probably hiding from Rich. I know I'd keep my daughter as far from him as possible.

After experiencing the environment in Cite Soleil firsthand, it is obvious that what Tammy has taken it upon herself to accomplish in the Boston/Jamaica Base area is staggering. Through persistence and force of will, a two person team of Tammy and Robinson has managed over three years to create an institution inside this small area of Cite Soleil. It has taken extraordinary effort and persistence to ingratiate herself with the locals and, more importantly, the local gang, and cultivate the relationships necessary for the relatively incident-free construction of the water tower and now the medical clinic. Even the U.N. soldiers that we met were amazed at our group's ability to work relatively unmolested in the Boston/Jamaica Base area, and that was directly due to the dedication to building the proverbial bridges by Tammy and Robinson. Robinson is the real miracle worker there, juggling the relationships between the various gangs with the logistical tasks in hiring the local labor along with the partnership with the folks from outside Haiti. It's difficult to describe with one word what Robinson's role is, other than maybe he's the facilitator that enables all the work in Jamaica Base to actually take place. Tammy said it best... the project could continue if something happened to her but not if something happened to Robinson.

Port-Au-Prince also held an interesting cast of characters among the non-natives since there is nobody who goes to Port-Au-Prince for tourism... every visitor has an agenda. There was Chuck, an executive for a company called DRC that specializes in post-disaster reconstruction, who drank with us and generously bought us all dinner a couple of times. He was meant to stay in Haiti for several months to oversee a construction project for the World Food Bank. There's a lot of money to be made in the disaster business. Then there was Jim, an old man from Arizona who was in Cite Soleil looking for a little girl he saw in a picture on the internet that he said "looked like his wife when she was young." To what end he wanted to meet this girl nobody is sure, so we just assumed he was a perv. Then there were the people from an NGO that shall remain nameless that really wanted to find some way to work with Tammy but which she wisely avoided. You could tell in a couple of minutes that these guys were worthless... a bunch of hippies and travelers trying to set up self-perpetuating projects to justify their group's existence. I tuned out immediately after they started talking about the utility of geodesic domes. Jeremy and Rich have some more first-hand experiences I'm sure they'd be happy to share.

If you ever need a bit of a reality check about how good you have it then by all means visit PAP. I've never had someone ask me if I can take them in my checked luggage before. It's hard to believe that the U.S. and Haiti are on the same planet, let alone a short distance apart. And believe me... if you need confirmation that these are literally different worlds, nothing is as striking as staring out your airplane window as you leave Port-Au-Prince and then seeing the endless golf courses of Miami less than two hours later.

What we experienced mostly as observers is a situation that seems to have no foreseeable resolution. As Tammy will attest, things now are not that much different from before the earthquake in Cite Soleil. The U.N. presence seems necessary in order to maintain what little peace there is in the area, but as with any military presence it breeds a certain amount of resentment among many of the locals, especially those who have been subject to round-ups or other rough tactics. Food distribution and water supply continue to be problems for the area; basic infrastructure needs must be addressed before anything else can be discussed. There are schools available where kids who are brave enough to resist the temptation of the gangs can learn English and other subjects, but there seems to be nowhere for them to apply that knowledge after graduation. We're talking about a place where workers don't wear eye protection when they're welding because they feel that they won't live long enough for it to matter. The kids use rusty nails as play things and spend much of their days throwing rocks at each other. Most of our friends have never gone beyond the hundred yard radius of the Boston area... when they would ask if we were staying at Visa Lodge it was almost with a sense of awe. Elections mean gang warfare; candidates funnel guns and money to the gangs that support them so the gangs can intimidate rival areas into voting for their candidate or not voting at all.

If you want to contribute to a project that you can be certain will directly help a community in Haiti, please consider donating to Help Tammy Help Haiti (http://www.helptammyhelphaiti.com). Expenses have risen since the earthquake and more money is needed for the completion of the medical clinic. The donation link on the website is currently not working, but feel free to contact Tammy at tammy@helptammyhelphaiti.com for details on how you can donate. You may also want to consider Doctors Without Borders who were the only other group we saw working in Cite Soleil.

Anyhow, enjoy the pictures which I mostly stole from everybody else. Fair warning, some of them may be a bit unpleasant. Besides the ones of Rich, which should go without saying. Here's the link to the album:

https://photos.app.goo.gl/hhZJKqi43nkSBLcc6

Take 'er easy,
Dave