In the evening, the boys get together to practice dancing. They work on their hip-hop skills and then relax by listening to Kompa music. Last night, several older guys who work in construction and carpentry and whatnot decided to show up. Everyone watched as Sony taught some of the 10-14-year-olds pop-lock and “couwant.”
After an hour of “repeticion,” someone put on the kompa. The kids got up and Guy Pay-ed (some new popular way of dancing that involves shuffling your feet and robotically moving your arms up and down and down and up to the beat of the music). Some of us started actually dancing kompa (an easy two-step with reeeeeeeally slow spins). The older guys, the construction etc. workers, began twisting and spinning and sort of merry-go-rounding together.
Haiti is an affectionate culture. Men hold hands with men and women with women – and then women hold men’s hands too and so forth. But generally, there is no sense of shame (as in our close-minded American culture) with this sort of display of affection. Though I have grown used to seeing this – I still could not contain laughter of sheer joy and amazement at seeing these tall and sturdy young men clasping each other’s hands and dancing with unabashed and childish happiness.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Arthur no Ayiti
Kids in the Anglophone world grow up reading about Robin Hood, King Arthur, Coer-de-Lion, Captain Hook and Peter Pan, and Treasure Island. Tales of the knights of chivalry are as familiar to a boy’s mind as are his own childhood memories. The characters of these yarns are vivid, as is the historical-imaginary world they rule.
Yesterday was lovely. I thought I would sit outside and write a bit, read a bit and hang out with some kids. The novel I am reading right now is T. H. White’s The Once and Future King. Well, the kids asked what it was about. So, I began to tell, in my broken Creole, of the life of Arthur and Gwenevere. Immediately regretting my choice of language, I begged the children to let me tell the tale in French.
After dropping a few crucial details about the key characters, I realized that I would have to do much back-pedaling to explain about England and chivalry and such. I compared Arthur’s vision of abolishing “Might is Right,” an England where serfs and maidens could be free to roam the woods and roads without fear of rape and pillaging, to an Haiti in which people could live without fear and wherein poor field workers could own their own land. In the end, I think the kids rather got the idea.
I shall have to work on my story telling skills.
Yesterday was lovely. I thought I would sit outside and write a bit, read a bit and hang out with some kids. The novel I am reading right now is T. H. White’s The Once and Future King. Well, the kids asked what it was about. So, I began to tell, in my broken Creole, of the life of Arthur and Gwenevere. Immediately regretting my choice of language, I begged the children to let me tell the tale in French.
After dropping a few crucial details about the key characters, I realized that I would have to do much back-pedaling to explain about England and chivalry and such. I compared Arthur’s vision of abolishing “Might is Right,” an England where serfs and maidens could be free to roam the woods and roads without fear of rape and pillaging, to an Haiti in which people could live without fear and wherein poor field workers could own their own land. In the end, I think the kids rather got the idea.
I shall have to work on my story telling skills.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
palpable grief
The smell of incense fills the air around the chapel. Bodies are squeezed inside and pour out the entrances. Old women, teenagers and kids crowd the sides of the building, standing, peering in, and seated on long benches. Everyone sweats; the sun is unrelenting.
The funeral service has barely begun when the first mourner’s shrieks can be heard above the choir. Her back arches, her leg muscles contract, she hits the floor and begins writhing. One of her shoes lands under the alter and the other skids across the cement floor.
Then others chime in. First, they whimper but soon the whimpers turn to wails. By the time the service ends and the mourners have processed into the street, there are sundry women lying prostrate on the ground, face down, their bodies twitching. Some of them have men holding them down or sitting on them.
The sounds of palpable grief dissipate as the procession moves down the road toward the cemetery, led by a tuba and a fine Haitian band.
The funeral service has barely begun when the first mourner’s shrieks can be heard above the choir. Her back arches, her leg muscles contract, she hits the floor and begins writhing. One of her shoes lands under the alter and the other skids across the cement floor.
Then others chime in. First, they whimper but soon the whimpers turn to wails. By the time the service ends and the mourners have processed into the street, there are sundry women lying prostrate on the ground, face down, their bodies twitching. Some of them have men holding them down or sitting on them.
The sounds of palpable grief dissipate as the procession moves down the road toward the cemetery, led by a tuba and a fine Haitian band.
in the Caribbean world...
In the silent, moonlit, Haitian evening, Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s Caribbean of magical realism springs to life. A thin and shrill voice emerges in the silence – then, the sound of shrieking and metal doors rattling. Someone is having a “satanic fit.” The spirits will leave him but until then, he will pass hours in writhing agony, women will try to restrain him, douse him with water, tap him with special branches. Finally, he will heave one more tortured sigh and pass into sleep.
The conversation after a night like this turns to voodoo and the magical realism of the Caribbean. Whether people here are more in touch with a realm that we, with all our technology and electricity have forgotten, or whether a lack of education promulgates these beliefs, something supernatural here feels very real.
The people recount their tales in circular patterns – disregarding linear understanding. Chinua Achebe does this in telling the story of his people in West Africa, Things Fall Apart. This device – one used by the oral storytellers – helps him express his people’s culture in a complete way. The Haitian people, most of whom can claim West Africa as their “Pays Natal,” to borrow from Aimé César’s terminology, have clearly never lost this aspect of their culture of origin. A doctor, trying to diagnose a stomachache, asks a grown man how long he has been throwing up. He responds a day, a year, he cannot remember but it has been too long. He moans in pain. His telling is circular in his memory of the pain.
In the midst of all this, the “blan” bring aid, medicine and technology. A man from Kansas opens a birthing clinic close to the middle of nowhere, but not quite. The “Maison de Naissance” offers good pre and post-natal care. Some regular medical practices that women all over the fully “developed” world tend to enjoy are offered but regarded skeptically by the Haitian women who given birth, rest for a few hours, then pick up their babies and walk the dusty road home in the blazing sun.
A kid is cursed by a purported witch and goes blind. He awakes in the morning and sees nothing. He is terrified. He goes to the best ENT hospital in Haiti. The doctor, shaking his head, declares there is nothing physically wrong with the boy. A priest gives in. He blesses the kid; he anoints him, prays over him and says that his sight will return slowly. And surely and slowly, he begins to see light, then shapes, then details. The spell is broken.
Well into the complete darkness of a Haitian night, a child screams. To ignorant ears, it sounds like a case of serious abuse. But security is already there, making sure everyone is OK. He is standing, smiling. When a doctor appears at the scene of the satanic attack, the people seem baffled. Why would he need medical attention? His affliction is not of this world. The doctor observes for a moment and shuffles back to bed. In the morning, she checks up on him and they all laugh. Of course, he is fine!
In the shadow of old and craggy mountains, Haitians are born, grow, live and die. For many, tucked away along impassable roads over mountain passes, much of the outside world will remain hidden. In song, one cries out, “when will God reveal to me my purpose; His will for my life?”
The conversation after a night like this turns to voodoo and the magical realism of the Caribbean. Whether people here are more in touch with a realm that we, with all our technology and electricity have forgotten, or whether a lack of education promulgates these beliefs, something supernatural here feels very real.
The people recount their tales in circular patterns – disregarding linear understanding. Chinua Achebe does this in telling the story of his people in West Africa, Things Fall Apart. This device – one used by the oral storytellers – helps him express his people’s culture in a complete way. The Haitian people, most of whom can claim West Africa as their “Pays Natal,” to borrow from Aimé César’s terminology, have clearly never lost this aspect of their culture of origin. A doctor, trying to diagnose a stomachache, asks a grown man how long he has been throwing up. He responds a day, a year, he cannot remember but it has been too long. He moans in pain. His telling is circular in his memory of the pain.
In the midst of all this, the “blan” bring aid, medicine and technology. A man from Kansas opens a birthing clinic close to the middle of nowhere, but not quite. The “Maison de Naissance” offers good pre and post-natal care. Some regular medical practices that women all over the fully “developed” world tend to enjoy are offered but regarded skeptically by the Haitian women who given birth, rest for a few hours, then pick up their babies and walk the dusty road home in the blazing sun.
A kid is cursed by a purported witch and goes blind. He awakes in the morning and sees nothing. He is terrified. He goes to the best ENT hospital in Haiti. The doctor, shaking his head, declares there is nothing physically wrong with the boy. A priest gives in. He blesses the kid; he anoints him, prays over him and says that his sight will return slowly. And surely and slowly, he begins to see light, then shapes, then details. The spell is broken.Well into the complete darkness of a Haitian night, a child screams. To ignorant ears, it sounds like a case of serious abuse. But security is already there, making sure everyone is OK. He is standing, smiling. When a doctor appears at the scene of the satanic attack, the people seem baffled. Why would he need medical attention? His affliction is not of this world. The doctor observes for a moment and shuffles back to bed. In the morning, she checks up on him and they all laugh. Of course, he is fine!
In the shadow of old and craggy mountains, Haitians are born, grow, live and die. For many, tucked away along impassable roads over mountain passes, much of the outside world will remain hidden. In song, one cries out, “when will God reveal to me my purpose; His will for my life?”
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Monday, March 26, 2007
true joy in life
This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown on the scrap heap; the being a force of nature instead of a feverish selfish little cold of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy.-George Bernard Shaw (courtesy Chris S.)
has God forgotten Haiti?
This morning someone found a poem stuffed in a book at Monsieur Alexandre’s house.
-- Author Unknown
Many times it crossed my mind,
HAS GOD FORGOTTEN HAITI?
And then I think of Sister Mary Rose,
And all the volunteers who live in intolerable conditions,
And the children laughing and singing,
And all the people dressed in their best, sitting in mass in the heat,
And Briole working so hard for democracy in his community,
And the fete – celebrating adult literacy,
And the loving respect given the old,
And Madam Bouger’s sister bringing her food,
And the children eating at the convent,
And everyone sharing the one bottle of fresh water, And John David opening his home to orphans,
And Father Marc loving 210 children,
And the incredible HOPE of the people…
And I KNOW, God is Alive, and Active, and VITAL,
In Haiti,
And WE, in our lives of plenty –
Have forgotten God.
HAS GOD FORGOTTEN HAITI?
And then I think of Sister Mary Rose,
And all the volunteers who live in intolerable conditions,
And the children laughing and singing,
And all the people dressed in their best, sitting in mass in the heat, And Briole working so hard for democracy in his community,
And the fete – celebrating adult literacy,
And the loving respect given the old,
And Madam Bouger’s sister bringing her food,
And the children eating at the convent,
And everyone sharing the one bottle of fresh water, And John David opening his home to orphans,
And Father Marc loving 210 children,
And the incredible HOPE of the people…
And I KNOW, God is Alive, and Active, and VITAL,
In Haiti,
And WE, in our lives of plenty –
Have forgotten God.
-- Author Unknown
double joy
This is Jean Berto. He and his twin brother Berto are my shadows (as if one wasn’t awesome enough) – I can’t wake without seeing one of them outside my window. Aside from providing me with all sorts of interesting information about virtually anything (agriculture, jewelry, what I should wear, where my other friends are), they always make pleasant companions. Dino calls them my security detail. I think they are more like little brothers. 
While, at times, these kids' dedication and affection can become overwhelming, spending time them makes sense out of the work here. On Easter, I am privileged to begin a greater role in a couple Espwa kids' lives. Lovince, 11-years-old, and Chupy, 17-years-old, will be baptized and have asked me to be their god-mother.
soccer game
On a soggy Saturday afternoon, MINUSTAH played Espwa in soccer. The UN won, 2-1.
Only a couple of our kids could be caught singing the “MINUSTAH vole cabri (steals goat)” song – a thing that became popular during carnival. Since the UN has been helping us out a lot, I am hoping this attitude dissipates, at least in our ranks. Some of the kids started a spontaneous drummer circle in front of the big UN truck that transported the winning team to our property. They were in the minority, though, because most everyone watched the game with rapt attention.
They will finish the septic tank this week and are testing more of our wells on Wednesday. As always, we are grateful to them and enjoy the rec time too.
raging storms
Some dark clouds show in the horizon, roll up over steep mountains and proceed to sweep southwest. The air is heavy full of potential. Sometimes, dark clouds gather only to drift swiftly away and dissipate out at sea. Sometimes, the storm lets lose its fury of rain and wind and lightning. One never really knows when or whether the storm will strike until it does. Last night the sky blazed – it was a beautiful little tempest.
An uprising here must, in some ways, be like a rainstorm here. The social mood, like the weather, is never quite settled. Sometimes tension mounts only to ebb quickly thereafter. As history testifies, this is not always the case in Haiti. Dark moods intensify, like the thunderheads in the horizon, and release their fury without much warning. Just the other week in Madame Comb, the town next to Castel-Pere, two cousins got into a fight. The fight, fueled by a hot workday and some moonshine, resulted in one cousin shooting the other. On-lookers swiftly avenged the death and stoned the murderer to death. By the time UN police arrived at the scene, the spontaneous crematorium was already raging. The storm had passed, leaving destruction in its wake.
An uprising here must, in some ways, be like a rainstorm here. The social mood, like the weather, is never quite settled. Sometimes tension mounts only to ebb quickly thereafter. As history testifies, this is not always the case in Haiti. Dark moods intensify, like the thunderheads in the horizon, and release their fury without much warning. Just the other week in Madame Comb, the town next to Castel-Pere, two cousins got into a fight. The fight, fueled by a hot workday and some moonshine, resulted in one cousin shooting the other. On-lookers swiftly avenged the death and stoned the murderer to death. By the time UN police arrived at the scene, the spontaneous crematorium was already raging. The storm had passed, leaving destruction in its wake.
Monday, March 19, 2007
a request
This morning Mackenson and Claudia St. Preux came to us. Their mother is handicapped and unable to provide for them. The boy has an infected gash on his eyebrow from barbed wire and the girl’s reddish hair indicates the extent of her malnutrition. They will stay with us for a while, eat three full meals a day and have a dry place to sleep. Nearly every day, children from similarly dire circumstances come to us. Unfortunately, we cannot take in everyone.
Today, I write with a specific request.
Since the beginning of March, we have had visitor after visitor come out to the farm. As some leave, others arrive. Espwa will be teaming with short-term medical, construction, and education volunteers through the month of March. However, in addition to these and others, like myself, who are able to commit to greater lengths of time, Espwa depends on financial charity.
To give you a better idea of the scope of our work here in Haiti, I would like to mention some of our immediate needs and major goals for 2007.
- Clean water systems: septic systems and potable sources for three communities of children and staff
- Houses to homes: converting the shells where our children now live into screened, furnished, painted homes
- Neighborhood fence: securing the small children’s village for the purposes of security and keeping them from harms way on farm equipment, etc.
- Kitchen renovation: converting the current kitchen into much needed food storage space and the small dining area into a larger kitchen
- Irrigation: irrigating the farm so as to produce to capacity, thereby reducing dependency on purchased food for the children and providing the project with a potential source of income in cash crops
- Medical clinic: building a space to house the growing number of medical staff and better care for the medical needs of our 600 children, 180 employees and those of the surrounding community
- Guest house: a space for short-term volunteers and visitors to stay on the farm in order to reduce transportation costs to and from town
- Walk-ways and roads: paved pathways for vehicles and pedestrians, which will cut down on standing water, help keep children cleaner during rainy season and out of the way of vehicles and farm equipment
Our yearly operating cost is nearly one million dollars U.S. and, at present, we are in desperate need of money. We struggle each year to ensure the overall health of 600 children from backgrounds comparable to or worse than that of Mackenson and Claudia, who came to us this morning. While we have many goals for the improvement of our property, farm, infrastructure and schools, we cannot begin to attend to these until we can meet immediate needs. My request is this: Please help us.
If you are able to contribute to Theo’s Work/Pwoje Espwa at this time, please mail tax-deductible donations to:
Theo's Work, Inc.
2303 W. Market St.
Greensboro, NC 27403
I hope that, through my letters and blog, I am able to convey our gratitude and the incredible things that we are able to achieve through your help. Also, I know that some of you have already sent checks and for that we are very grateful. For those of your who are unable to help right now, keep us in your thoughts and prayers. Finally, if you have questions about any of the specific projects above or would like more information about our plans, do not hesitate to contact me.
More updates soon!
Today, I write with a specific request.Since the beginning of March, we have had visitor after visitor come out to the farm. As some leave, others arrive. Espwa will be teaming with short-term medical, construction, and education volunteers through the month of March. However, in addition to these and others, like myself, who are able to commit to greater lengths of time, Espwa depends on financial charity.
To give you a better idea of the scope of our work here in Haiti, I would like to mention some of our immediate needs and major goals for 2007.- Clean water systems: septic systems and potable sources for three communities of children and staff
- Houses to homes: converting the shells where our children now live into screened, furnished, painted homes
- Neighborhood fence: securing the small children’s village for the purposes of security and keeping them from harms way on farm equipment, etc.
- Kitchen renovation: converting the current kitchen into much needed food storage space and the small dining area into a larger kitchen
- Irrigation: irrigating the farm so as to produce to capacity, thereby reducing dependency on purchased food for the children and providing the project with a potential source of income in cash crops
- Medical clinic: building a space to house the growing number of medical staff and better care for the medical needs of our 600 children, 180 employees and those of the surrounding community
- Guest house: a space for short-term volunteers and visitors to stay on the farm in order to reduce transportation costs to and from town
- Walk-ways and roads: paved pathways for vehicles and pedestrians, which will cut down on standing water, help keep children cleaner during rainy season and out of the way of vehicles and farm equipment
Our yearly operating cost is nearly one million dollars U.S. and, at present, we are in desperate need of money. We struggle each year to ensure the overall health of 600 children from backgrounds comparable to or worse than that of Mackenson and Claudia, who came to us this morning. While we have many goals for the improvement of our property, farm, infrastructure and schools, we cannot begin to attend to these until we can meet immediate needs. My request is this: Please help us.
If you are able to contribute to Theo’s Work/Pwoje Espwa at this time, please mail tax-deductible donations to:
Theo's Work, Inc.
2303 W. Market St.
Greensboro, NC 27403
I hope that, through my letters and blog, I am able to convey our gratitude and the incredible things that we are able to achieve through your help. Also, I know that some of you have already sent checks and for that we are very grateful. For those of your who are unable to help right now, keep us in your thoughts and prayers. Finally, if you have questions about any of the specific projects above or would like more information about our plans, do not hesitate to contact me.
More updates soon!
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Insane Birthday Week so far...
Briefly - and more details later when things settle down a little - the birthday week thus far:
Sunday night Cross International arrived to pay us a visit. A group of seven visitors also arrived. In the evening, the torrential rain-season-rains started and soaked our property. We had a little welcome party for everyone and made sure our windows were shut tight against the storm.
Monday morning, I forgot it was my birthday but soon someone remembered and I got a few "Happy Birthdays." In the morning, I worked frantically on some project proposals for a couple of hours and then joined Fr. Marc and Cross International in the early afternoon. The Les Cayes prison packs up to 25 prisoners in small 20x10 foot cells. They have to take turns sleeping. This is far and away, however, better conditions than other Haitian prisons. We went to see their sewing program that Cross funds and Espwa helps implement. Most prisoners there are in for 2-5 years for petty crimes.
After the prison we went to a restaurant to get a fruit juice. Nick noticed there was a cake in the window so we ordered that and all the Cross International guys, Marc, Nick and Tiger say me happy birthday.
Soon, we were back in the car and on the way to visit an agriculture supply store that Cross funds. Who should pull up right along side us, but Haitian presidential hopeful, Pastor Chevan and his 3 security guards. We all stuff into the one room hut that the supply store operates out of and listened to a short presentation by some of the employees there. They were so genuinely grateful to Cross for their support - it was quite touching to see.
Out back on the farm, I talked with the artisans about the work they are doing and pieces that I would like them to do. We hung some nice pieces on the wall and I bought some for the dining room. Soon, evening was upon us and Dino was setting up for a party.
Let's just say that it was one of the best birthday celebrations that I have had since I was little and leave it at that.
Yesterday was a completely different sort of day. One of our best dogs was accidentally killed by one of our drivers, one of the baby cats living in our bathroom died (at its own mother's hand -- paw?) and Fr. Bal who teaches carpentry at Espwa got hit in the eye by a planing stone. We visited him today and, God willing, he will be OK. The doctor saw no immediate danger.
In the morning, my English class went really well. Paige, a visitor here, helped me plan a cool lesson and the kids seemed to listen and to learn!!! Then, Paige, Sarah, another one of the visitors here now, and I learned a dance. Sony, the hip-hop dance instructor, wants us to perform it in tomorrow's Spektak but I do not believe we can or should...
Today has been exciting, too. A medical team - the Athens Medical Team, to be exact - arrived to unload some supplies. When they showed up, they ended up seeing a patient or two and recasting some of our boys who have broken arms. They also decided to leave behind a married doctor-nurse team to help our nurses out. Incredible serendipity. Now we have to work on finding a bigger and better space for our growing medical team.
More later and hopefully more pictures.
Sunday night Cross International arrived to pay us a visit. A group of seven visitors also arrived. In the evening, the torrential rain-season-rains started and soaked our property. We had a little welcome party for everyone and made sure our windows were shut tight against the storm.
Monday morning, I forgot it was my birthday but soon someone remembered and I got a few "Happy Birthdays." In the morning, I worked frantically on some project proposals for a couple of hours and then joined Fr. Marc and Cross International in the early afternoon. The Les Cayes prison packs up to 25 prisoners in small 20x10 foot cells. They have to take turns sleeping. This is far and away, however, better conditions than other Haitian prisons. We went to see their sewing program that Cross funds and Espwa helps implement. Most prisoners there are in for 2-5 years for petty crimes.
After the prison we went to a restaurant to get a fruit juice. Nick noticed there was a cake in the window so we ordered that and all the Cross International guys, Marc, Nick and Tiger say me happy birthday.
Soon, we were back in the car and on the way to visit an agriculture supply store that Cross funds. Who should pull up right along side us, but Haitian presidential hopeful, Pastor Chevan and his 3 security guards. We all stuff into the one room hut that the supply store operates out of and listened to a short presentation by some of the employees there. They were so genuinely grateful to Cross for their support - it was quite touching to see.
Out back on the farm, I talked with the artisans about the work they are doing and pieces that I would like them to do. We hung some nice pieces on the wall and I bought some for the dining room. Soon, evening was upon us and Dino was setting up for a party.
Let's just say that it was one of the best birthday celebrations that I have had since I was little and leave it at that.
Yesterday was a completely different sort of day. One of our best dogs was accidentally killed by one of our drivers, one of the baby cats living in our bathroom died (at its own mother's hand -- paw?) and Fr. Bal who teaches carpentry at Espwa got hit in the eye by a planing stone. We visited him today and, God willing, he will be OK. The doctor saw no immediate danger.
In the morning, my English class went really well. Paige, a visitor here, helped me plan a cool lesson and the kids seemed to listen and to learn!!! Then, Paige, Sarah, another one of the visitors here now, and I learned a dance. Sony, the hip-hop dance instructor, wants us to perform it in tomorrow's Spektak but I do not believe we can or should...
Today has been exciting, too. A medical team - the Athens Medical Team, to be exact - arrived to unload some supplies. When they showed up, they ended up seeing a patient or two and recasting some of our boys who have broken arms. They also decided to leave behind a married doctor-nurse team to help our nurses out. Incredible serendipity. Now we have to work on finding a bigger and better space for our growing medical team.
More later and hopefully more pictures.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
we coming bearing a pump
On Friday morning, about 9am, some United Nations MINUSTAH personnel arrived with a truck and a pump. After a visit with an official earlier this week, they determined that they could provide Pwoje Espwa with additional humanitarian aid (they still bring a potable water tank once every two weeks). The septic tank in question has not been emptied since its construction just over two years ago. This would be no small task.
Those cement covers have been closed for a couple of weeks now. MINUSTAH set to work removing the covers and inspecting the... mess. Victor, the American fellow in the straw hat (above left and below right), dug a large hole with Espwa's new back ho on Thursday. He walked out to the fields with an engineering lieutenant (below left) to show him where to deposit the waste.
After hours, MINUSTAH had still not finished. The hole was nearly full and by 4pm they decided to call it a day and return to finish the following morning. The men worked tirelessly in what one can imagine were fairly hot and smelly conditions. In their free moments they played with the children who stood around in irrepressible crowds to watch the action.
Most of these guys have families at home. They seem to welcome the opportunity to hang out at our place and talk to the little ones. And it was actually quite entertaining to see these Uruguayans trying to communicate with out staff and kids. Only one of them spoke French and none spoke Creole at all. The lieutenant (pictured above) gladly hoisted this girl into his arms -- he said she reminded him of his five-year-old waiting at home for him in Uruguay.
Next week Espwa and the Uruguayan MINUSTAH base are scheduled to play a friendly game of soccer. Updates to come on this event...
Those cement covers have been closed for a couple of weeks now. MINUSTAH set to work removing the covers and inspecting the... mess. Victor, the American fellow in the straw hat (above left and below right), dug a large hole with Espwa's new back ho on Thursday. He walked out to the fields with an engineering lieutenant (below left) to show him where to deposit the waste.After hours, MINUSTAH had still not finished. The hole was nearly full and by 4pm they decided to call it a day and return to finish the following morning. The men worked tirelessly in what one can imagine were fairly hot and smelly conditions. In their free moments they played with the children who stood around in irrepressible crowds to watch the action.
Most of these guys have families at home. They seem to welcome the opportunity to hang out at our place and talk to the little ones. And it was actually quite entertaining to see these Uruguayans trying to communicate with out staff and kids. Only one of them spoke French and none spoke Creole at all. The lieutenant (pictured above) gladly hoisted this girl into his arms -- he said she reminded him of his five-year-old waiting at home for him in Uruguay.
Next week Espwa and the Uruguayan MINUSTAH base are scheduled to play a friendly game of soccer. Updates to come on this event...
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
rain and other fun things
At about 2:30 AM, I woke up. The electricity had run out. Thus, the fan was off and a slick gleam had formed on my face. My legs were tangled in my thin and, by now, sweaty sheets. Mosquitoes buzzed around my ears and shoulders. Within a few minutes, the distinct sound of approaching rain reached my ears. Soon it was falling hard around the quad. It was a peaceful sound, mainly because it either drowned out or silenced any other but also because it meant water for our desperately thirsty land. The clang of mangoes dropping onto tins roofs still sounded sporadically.
I gave in to my insomnia, turned on a flash light and dove into the magical adventures of Wart, Kay and Robin of the Wood. T. H. White kept me company through the early morning hours.
This morning, the skies look pregnant – as though it may rain again at any moment. This is very good for the growing season, our dry fields, and the rice paddies of our neighbors. This majorly stinks for the utterly awful road leading out to our farm. How I desperately wish for a 4-wheel-drive vehicle. The roads, covered in slick, glistening mud, may as well be covered with oil.
Later today or tomorrow, MINUSTAH will come out with their pump truck and empty our septic system. They visited on Monday with one of their superiors from Port-au-Prince. We are all set to launch into this next project with them but there are several hitches: for one, our back ho is missing a piece and we can’t dig a hole in which to deposit the waste. But the United Nations is working to help us, which is wonderful. We hope to be able to repay them somehow.
Regarding the fundraiser I had while back in the States, we’re up to nearly $5,000. I am so grateful to everyone who helped, came and contributed. Your generosity is overwhelming. Next time, with better planning and better weather, we could double this.
The work here continues. On Monday, I learned how to run a back ho and helped dig a trench (pictures to come – I swear). Our quad kitty had kittens a few weeks ago. They become noisier and more precocious as the days go by. Some kid discovered how to make whistles from thin metal and kindly distributed them to many of our little ones. Never a dull – never a quiet moment.
I gave in to my insomnia, turned on a flash light and dove into the magical adventures of Wart, Kay and Robin of the Wood. T. H. White kept me company through the early morning hours.
This morning, the skies look pregnant – as though it may rain again at any moment. This is very good for the growing season, our dry fields, and the rice paddies of our neighbors. This majorly stinks for the utterly awful road leading out to our farm. How I desperately wish for a 4-wheel-drive vehicle. The roads, covered in slick, glistening mud, may as well be covered with oil.
Later today or tomorrow, MINUSTAH will come out with their pump truck and empty our septic system. They visited on Monday with one of their superiors from Port-au-Prince. We are all set to launch into this next project with them but there are several hitches: for one, our back ho is missing a piece and we can’t dig a hole in which to deposit the waste. But the United Nations is working to help us, which is wonderful. We hope to be able to repay them somehow.
Regarding the fundraiser I had while back in the States, we’re up to nearly $5,000. I am so grateful to everyone who helped, came and contributed. Your generosity is overwhelming. Next time, with better planning and better weather, we could double this.
The work here continues. On Monday, I learned how to run a back ho and helped dig a trench (pictures to come – I swear). Our quad kitty had kittens a few weeks ago. They become noisier and more precocious as the days go by. Some kid discovered how to make whistles from thin metal and kindly distributed them to many of our little ones. Never a dull – never a quiet moment.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
short update
We were without internet for a while because the guy with whom we subscribe forgot to pay his bills. We're back up and running now.
This last week has been busy. We have a lot of projects going. I learned a little about the depth and extent of dis-functionality in the Haitian government. On the upside, I learned the MINUSTAH (the UN) will be able to help us more than we had originally thought. Tomorrow I'll post more about what's happening out a the farm.
For now - take care.
This last week has been busy. We have a lot of projects going. I learned a little about the depth and extent of dis-functionality in the Haitian government. On the upside, I learned the MINUSTAH (the UN) will be able to help us more than we had originally thought. Tomorrow I'll post more about what's happening out a the farm.
For now - take care.
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