is that your diesel engine?

The "Haiti experience" begins on the plane ride from Miami. Most of the passengers are visiting or returning Haitians and light-skinned folk are in the minority. All the announcements, except those from the cockpit, are in Creole and English but even still most choose to ignore instructions like, "remain seated, the plane is landing" and "please remain seated until the plane has come to a complete stop."

The view of the Caribbean from the plane window is breathtaking. Small treeless islands and sandbars zigzag the turquoise water like fading scars. The plane passes over several populated and lush islands where, even from thousands of feet high, the white beaches sparkle and hint at a tourist paradise. Once the plane enters Haitian airspace, mountains appear and the land is revealed red and starving. The smudge created by a fading horizon cannot hide the darker green boarder of the Dominican Republic.


The Port-au-Prince airport is always an adventure but this time my bags came out first and I slipped out relatively unmolested. The driver we always use was waiting for me with a smile eliminating yet another potentially stressful element of the travel-day. Since I had 4 hours before my connecting flight back to Les Cayes, Jean Gary (the driver) and I went to eat lunch at a gas station restaurant: delicious beans and rice, fried pork and plantains with a little coleslaw.

After lunch, I still had 2 and a half hours to sit in the small airport awaiting transportation south. Fortunately I was not bereft of entertainment. Without a second thought, I squeezed past an apparently new diesel engine that sat abandoned on the ground. The woman at the counter spoke to me briefly and then began checking my bags; I stood patiently waiting for my baggage claim tags. Suddenly, from behind, I heard a voice ask me in strongly accented English, "excuse me miss, is that your diesel engine?" "What? Why, of course!" I thought. "I was bringing it down to Haiti with the intention of building myself a stout diesel tractor. Don't mind me, I'll get it out of your way lickety-split." Instead, I looked perplexed and sputtered, "non..." Then I sat for hours amongst the smattering of elderly French ladies and Haitian travelers, awaiting my flight on Tortug'Air.

The south really does differ from the north; the flight to Les Cayes again revealed the incredible beauty of this country. Farms create patch work patterns on the green, hilly land, trees speckle the mountain sides. An overwhelming feeling of gratitude to be able to call this place my (temporary) home returned, as it does every time I view Les Cayes from the air.

At the farm, not much has changed. A handful of kids spotted our approaching truck and came to say hello. Fr. Charlie greeted me warmly but when asked if he missed me replied shortly, "No!" But his eyes twinkled. Raymond, my French Canadian house-mate, embraced me and grinned. Later in the evening, Dan and I had a chance to catch up.

All in all - it's good to be back.

back to Haiti again

Tomorrow I fly back to Haiti and my next post -- look for it on Wednesday morning -- will be written from Espwa's office in Les Cayes.

After the motorcycle accident, I came back to the U.S. to recover. Instead of taking it easy, taking it slow or taking a vacation, I took advantage of being back in the capital. Over the course of several weeks, I have met with a few organizations who want to help Espwa, spoken with some potentially interested individuals and helped organize a successful fundraiser. So I'll be able to hit the ground running as I settle back into life in Haiti...

...more to come soon!

video from the helicopter

check out the video from our UN helicopter ride to Port-au-Prince from Cayes!

on youtube.

gettin' her done!

My computer is back and functioning like new... thank goodness for those Apple "Geniuses." The scrapes and bumps on my legs have nearly healed and faded but I have a while before I look as good as new. Skin heals incredibly quickly but apparently maintains that fresh, pink color for a while. SPF 50 will become my new best friend once I get back to that Caribbean sun. Until then, I'm just trying to navigate icy snow piles with my bum leg and not end up with any more injuries.

I'm schedule to fly back to Haiti on February 27, 2007, after which time you can expect my blogs will become far more interesting and frequent, once again. In the mean time, I've managed to get a lot of very crucial networking and fund raising done here. My fabulous Washingtonian friends have been integral in making this happen and I am grateful to them.

degrees of separation

The Haitian diaspora numbers 1 in ever 5 or 6 Haitians living abroad. Between cities like Miami, New York and even DC and Boston, one expects to bump into a Creole-speaker every now and again. What about Americans who speak Creole or who can rattle off favorite haunts in several of the island country's major cities?

Since my return to this freezing land I call home, I have discovered friends and friends of friends are intimately acquainted with Haiti in some capacity. Perhaps it is that I hail from Washington, DC but almost everyone I speak with seems to have a spouse, friend or relative who works or worked in Haiti.

The other day I sent an email to one of these "friends of a friend." The reply came swiftly: "Proving Haiti really is a small place, I had heard about Portia’s accident from my friend at the ---- Mission House. I have also visited Proje Lespwa in Cayes and in Torbeck and have met Fr Marc..." So not only does this guy work in Haiti, he's heard of me and knows my friends. Fantastic!

After lunch yesterday, I learned that some fellow Cornellians, some friends of friends, operate major, million-dollar non-profits that work actively in Haiti. Then, in the afternoon, I stopped by my old high school. Low and behold, my former choir director has taken groups to Haiti, an administrator's husband worked in the U.S. Embassy during the transition government, and a former teacher can introduce me to a buddy who knows the guy who runs another big organization's Haitian office.

Once again, I marvel that the world is such a small place.

For those of you who have been holding back and can think of someone or some group that would be interested in what we do at Pwoje Espwa, please let me know. Since I am in the DC area for a couple more weeks, I am in a good position to call people, meet people, have lunch, hang out... whatever.

another crash

The timing is both perfect and imperfect: my beloved Apple computer just crashed. Though I'm in the States and able to get it repaired promptly, I'm in the States and only able to work with Espwa by writing and researching on my computer. I feel torn between crying and laughing -- so I am doing both. Let's just hope the backup saves all my photographs, new documents and contacts...

please say a prayer for my poor laptop.

it's a small world after all! it's a small world...

Every Friday night at the farm, we have a small party. A couple weeks ago, volunteers, upper management, Fr. Marc and Charlie, MaTante and some of our kids enjoyed food, drink and some impromptu entertainment. After two kids performed a traditional Haitian dance, everyone seated around the table took a turn singing. Now, as I sit freezing in Washington, DC, I can only imagine what my dear friends are doing out at the farm this night.

This week, I've sent some emails, pleaded with some folks for help and done some other logistical planning and organizing. In my free time, I had coffee with Nick's older brother (Nick's my friend who was in the accident with me) who lives in DC. In addition, I had a drink with some friends at the Tabard Inn where my friend Alex's old friend works (Alex is the UN worker who lives with Nick and cleaned our wounds the night of the accident). Though I am far from where I want to be and from people about whom I have grown to care, I marvel at how small this world really is.

portiamills.com

My website -- www.portiamills.com -- has been updated recently. There are now some nifty pictures of Camp Perrin and Port Salut to check out. In the coming weeks, I hope to use this site to show you more about the housing project, water and agriculture.

Please check it out in the mean time!

new bearings

After the accident, we could not walk (or hobble) literally one step in Haiti without people staring and someone spontaneously exclaiming:

“Are you ok?”
“What happened?”
“Motorcycle accident?”
“God protected you!”
“It hurts me that you’re hurt.”
“I heard what happened, are you OK?”

While telling the story over and again and straightening out rumors got a bit tiresome, it certainly beat the alternative. Friends and strangers in Haiti really seemed to care about our wellbeing and had no qualms expressing it. While my American friends and family have been wonderfully supportive and sweet – I must remark on a profound cultural difference between Haiti and the more developed Western World:

From the moment I left the Toussant Louverture Airport, the questions stopped. On the plane back to Miami, I sat unmolested by fellow passengers who neither took great notice of me nor thought to say anything when they did. In Miami, I learned what it must feel like (on some small level) to be confined to a wheelchair; I was completely at the mercy of a kind Dominican lady who worked for American Airlines and served as my assistant for about an hour. I got bumped and almost knocked over a couple times but was otherwise invisible to fellow travelers.

On the plane to DC, one man asked me, “I saw you on the plane from Port au Prince. What happened, are you OK?” Aside from him, one other man, recognizing the injuries, asked, “motorcycle accident?” Two major airports, two 737s, hundreds of passengers and a packed restaurant downtown last night only two comments – pretty amazing, eh?

I am home and recovering and FREEZING but continuing my work. Washington D.C. is THE place to go to find tons of NGOs and non-profits. I’m hoping to take advantage of this recovery time for the benefit of Pwoje Espwa and some specific projects. More details to come of the specifics of these projects…

as an expat, friend of the UN and more...

Last night in Les Cayes, Haiti, four Haitians, one Nigerian MINUSTAH guy, one Ethiopian MINUSTAH guy and three Americans sat in the dark to watch the Bears lose to the Colts. Thankfully, the satellite box was working, though EDH (Haitian electricity company) failed on the power end so beers were warm and trips to any other part of the house beside the fluorescent sitting room were treacherous. The inverter kicked enough power in for the TV and satellite box to last all through pre-game, game and post-game.

This morning, my last morning in Haiti for a couple of weeks, Nick removed most of my bandages. As the doctor in town was very busy and the UN doctor was in Port-au-Prince, Nick and the nurse out at Castel-Pere teamed up for an hour and a half to peel various sized gauze patches off of my scabs and scars. As we worked in the back room of Klinik Espwa, Fr. Marc came by with an Uruguayan MINUSTAH guy. He didn’t speak any French or English so Marc wanted me to figure out what the guy was saying.

Turns out that MINUSTAH showed up with the potable water tank for our kids. They said they don’t have enough to supply endless amounts for all the kids so the guy I spoke with wanted to convey that we should ration carefully. They will be replacing it again later this week so I cautioned him to bring a translator for English or French, as I would be out of the country for a bit.

We are still plagued with a long-term water source issue but the UN has been great in helping us out with the short term. We look forward to getting them back on the soccer field and challenging them to a rematch, as our last game was tied 1-1. Nick and I also owe a personal debt of gratitude to our UN friends, since they were instrumental in getting us out of Cayes and to better medical care last week.

Life outside the U.S. continues to fascinate me and I already look forward to my return.
Thank you for all your prayers, attention, love and kindness. I can’t wait to see some of you later this week and to chat with others on the phone for less than $1.50 a minute.

I'll be headed back to the States to recover my sad road burns for a couple weeks. If you are in the area, come pay me a visit or help me raise more money for this project! The kids still need clean water, electricity and better housing.

See you soon!

by the grace of God I live

Last Sunday after lunch, my friend Nick and I took a 40 min journey to the beach at Port Salut, Haiti for a little R&R. We enjoyed the sun and the warm Caribbean Sea and left to go home just before the sun sunk below the mountains. We made it through the mountain passes and the views were breathtaking. From time to time, we chatted over the sound of loud wind blowing past our ears as the motorcycle sped on. On the road below the mountains, as we neared Les Cayes and home, we passed a few small towns where people hung out by the side of the roads watching cock fights and celebrating saints days.

On a long straightaway we saw another motorcyclist pull out slowly on the right. Another man ran to catch up to the slow moving vehicle and tried to hop on the back. The rest happened instantaneously: Nick moved to the left of the road to avoid the slower bike. The slower bike popped a wheely and lost control, veering further and further left. Suddenly, impact.

The noise was metal clashing together and human bodies hitting the ground with force. I remember falling and feeling my head bounce twice as Nick and our bike fell on top of me and the other bike skidded over us and into the ditch. Nick peeled himself off the pavement and pulled the bike off me. I reached for my helmet and frantically tugged it off my head. Nick helped me up and I felt an incredible pain shoot through my whole body. Once we dragged ourselves to the side of the road I lay down and Nick played crowd control while simultaneously trying to call everyone we knew for help. After 30 minutes, some of our friends showed up.

At the first hospital we went to, Haitians lay dying on every bed in the ER and crowds hovered near the entrances. A Cuban doctor felt my body to make sure nothing was broken, glanced at the road burns and cuts covering my legs and arms, asked how I felt. When I rather shrieked that I couldn't see or hear and I was going to throw up, he ordered some drugs be brought from the dispensary and told me to lie down.

A large, frazzled nurse sutured Nick's elbow in the doorframe of the entrance while 40 passersby looked on. A doctor guided me to a hallway by the records room and instructed me to lie down on a dirty, dusty plastic mat, "it's the best we can offer." I set my head on a friends lap and a few moments later, a mouse scuttled past my toes. When I shrieked, a few on-looking women giggled. The man standing outside gazing in at me through the glass door smiled.

After a half hour or more, my friends returned from the dispensary with a syringe, painkiller and an IV. As soon as the nurse had administered the shot and hooked up the IV, I begged my friends to take me out of there. One grabbed me my under my "good" arm, another grabbed the drip bag; nurse “Ratchet” wasn't going to get another rough go at scraping my wounds clean.
Alex, Nick’s roommate, works for the UN and is a trained EMT. He did his best to clean my wounds when we got home. The IV drip ran out, I took some oxycodone and went to bed. The next morning we got a lift from a UN friend to their southern base in Cayes and saw the medical director there. After taking another go at cleaning my wounds, she instructed us to go to Port au Prince to seek further medical help. She said the UN could provide transport there.

So, I had my first ride in a helicopter ride. We traveled with some of our UN friends that we met with at the beach on Sunday afternoon.
After some planes, trains (not really) and automobiles, we arrived at the best hospital in Haiti: Canopé Vert. To make a long story (a 4 day and 3 night story) short, we had an amazing doctor who fixed us up well. Except for Nick, who needed stitches on his elbow, all the wounds were superficial. More reflections on the experience and conditions in Haitian medical facilities to come but for now, know that we are fine and will continue our work in Haiti tomorrow, after a five day hiatus. Come next week I’ll be bandage free and ready to rock.