Today is Sunday and National Election Day here in Haiti. This is the first post-earthquake election that will decide the path the country will take in its recovery. There were signs before the earthquake that Haiti was, if not recovering, at least hitting a plateau and stabilizing. Not only did the quake devastate the country, it killed 17% of the bureaucrats who were running the programs responsible for that change. This election is a huge deal.
Our original plan was to return to PAP today, lodge at the Francois
residence there, and maybe find someplace to go for a swim. This would allow a safe margin for the large
number of team members with an early Monday morning return flight. But we can’t go to PAP because, in the chaos
that is Haiti on a good day, interdepartmental (interstate) travel has been
prohibited by the government on Election Day.
We still slept in – sort of. The
frigging roosters still started at 0300 and then got really boisterous an hour
later. But I lolled comfortably on my
mattress on the floor until around 0600.
I went for the excellent-as-always breakfast and the back to the Barracks
for a potty stop. Glad I did. As I got onto the porch, I heard Fred saying,
in a small voice, very plaintively,
“Would you guys just kill it?
Please! Just kill it!” I entered the Barracks to find Fred in bed,
in his sleeping bag, curled in a fetal position with his head inside the
sleeping bag. About three feet from Fred
was Derek. Derek was trying to get a
picture of the object instilling such forlornness in his normally jocular
friend. It was a spider, about 5 inches
across at the legs, grey and furry.
Because it was on a plain wall, there was no perspective and Derek
wanted to get his hand in the picture to show that this was a really, really,
big arachnid. But every time Derek got
close, the spider would scramble away.
Derek was determined to get the shot and Fred was suffering from a
near-lethal attack of the willies. I had
to laugh as I passed through.
“Aww, Tim! Please! Can’t you kill it?” asked the melancholic med
student clamped in his fetal position.
“Are you kidding? I’m a nature
photographer, Fred. You know I can’t do
that,” I replied.
Greg, Derek and Rich laughed as Fred let out something between a wail
and a groan.
The creepiest thing about this isn't that it's a 5" spider,
but that it's a 5" spider with one eye.
The show was continuing as I came out of the bathroom, but our furry
friend had moved into the area where my bed was, Derek close in tow. I double-checked that my gear was all zipped
up, twice, and then headed out to church (where I prayed that my permethrin-treated
sheets would effectively repel Haitian mega fauna).
Derek reported that he eventually lost track of the spider as it headed
into the area between the top of the wall and the roof. Nobody knew what happened to it after that.
Investigation on return to the States determined it to be a Huntsman
spider. It’s non-venomous. It doesn’t spin a web, but instead takes down
its prey with its speed and agility. And
when you think of it, this also describes a Doberman. Apparently, some people welcome them in their
homes because they eat vermin, such as roaches and silverfish. Derek could easily have wound up grappling
with the thing and losing a digit in the process. And like a Doberman, it doesn’t need venom if
its bite causes you to bleed to death.
The Mass at Ste. Jeanne was wonderful. I’ve been to several Catholic masses and they
differ little from the Lutheran services of my upbringing. But this was special because even though I
didn’t speak a word I could feel the love through the music.
One man with a pair of bongos accompanied a children’s choir and the
congregation as they sang what were likely traditional Haitian hymns. The natural richness and beauty of the sound
was moving. It was so beautiful that I
was tempted to use my camera to record some of it, violating one of my personal
rules of not using my camera to intrude too far into a person’s life, which
especially includes a person’s relationship with their God. I resisted, but live with their songs in my
heart.
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| Ste. Jeanne after the Mass |
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| Exiting Ste. Jeanne |
During the Mass, Father Yves was lavish in his praise of our work. He spoke of how much we sacrificed to come and give them so much. The congregation gave us a standing ovation, which none of us felt we deserved. We had the ability to help, so we did.
Immediately after Mass, Father Yves bundled us onto the bus. We couldn’t go to PAP today, so we were going
to the beach! Port Salut is in the same
Department as Chantal, so even though it was a ways away, we could go still go
there.
The trip itself was instructional. We got to see a lot of the Haitian
countryside. Rice paddies were abundant,
but the hillsides were denuded of trees, especially hardwoods. This is one of Haiti’s critical infrastructure
problems: people need to cook food to eat and the only fuel for that,
especially in the countryside, is wood.
So most of the trees that don’t produce fruit are gone, chopped down
years ago. “Sustainability” is a
relatively recent (and annoying) buzzword here in the US, but a concept sorely
lacking, and far too late, in Haiti.
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| Grazing Cattle |
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| Rice Paddies (with my mortal photographic enemy, a utility line) |
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| This is what remains of Haiti's once-lush tropical jungles. |
And then we got to Port Salut. It
is a true Caribbean beach. Blue water – impossibly blue water – wide white sandy
beach, palm trees. The crystal clear sky
was dotted with a few bright white clouds, the breezes were warm, the water was
cool. It was a truly glorious,
unplanned, unintended perk of the elections.
Despite what we have seen during our
time here, there is still much splendor in Haiti.
It took a few minutes...but only a
few... for us to realize that this was a public beach and that we were free to
be carefree beachgoers!
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| Juliet on a contemplative walk |
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| Greg Ellsworth starring in Baywatch: Port Salut |
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| Speaking of equanimity, Dr. Reeshard takes his relaxation pretty seriously. |
Father Yves went out and bought us
lunch. Local catch of the day (in the
most literal sense of the term) that was grilled perfectly, fried plantain,
cole slaw and tomatoes. It was a hefty
plateful and was tasty as all get out.
We apparently overpaid Father Yves when we gave him 3 bucks a plate.
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| I actually ate one piece of fish and a slice of plantain before I took this picture. |
According to Sondi, you can get this kind of meal daily on or near any
Haitian beach.
We alternately frolicked and lounged for hours on the beach (I never
looked at my watch, but we were there a long time) and before sunset, we
bundled back onto the bus and returned to Chantal.
Back in the Barracks, we packed and then bedded down for a few hours of shuteye.
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