A photo epilogue

Some random shots


the mother pig and piglets
we passed daily en route to campus

 



goats en route






Our "screen" for powerpoint

bananas on every table, head, and basket

UNOGA's vision statement

Tomas, a Haitian business professor

 

Jianna and 2 of the 7




wall mural



Bronze sculpture/fountain at
an artisans' display



The trip home

Sunday, Nov. 4

The well-worn Jeremie boarding passes

We had planned to arrive at the Jeremie airport at 8 a.m. yesterday so as not to have our seats given away to those flying stand-by on the alleged 9 a.m. flight. A bit anxiously, we pulled up at 8:30. To find ourselves the only ones there. The ticket counter still pushed against the wall. About 15 minutes later, the ticket agent arrived and we got our antique boarding passes and were told our plane hadn't left PAP yet. All the other passengers arrived in the next half hour. I asked Odonel, one of the Haitian professors, why they came so late? "They know something we don't," he chuckled.

The security table in jeremie where bags were searched

It seems longer ago than 3 weeks that we were welcomed in this same airport and yet the time had gone quickly. I remember the same feeling a month or two after I entered Maryknoll. When life is rich, time both elongates and speeds up. We both felt some pull in leaving but I also had a sense of accomplishment and completion. What a fantastic experience it has been.




Our pilot wasn't posing, just waiting during boarding

The pilot clambered over Betty's backpack in front of the first row seat to climb into the cockpit of our 12 seater. There actually were seats for 4 more but they were serving as a baggage compartment extension. A cow on the airfield paid us no mind as we rumbled down the airstrip. It was a beautiful day, sunny and hot. Less than an hour later we were in PAP where we had a kind of 'croque monsieur" lunch and shopped with the last of our Haitian money.

 Getting out of Haiti involved such a seemingless endless series of bag and body checks that we might as well have been leaving Iraq. In PAP, suitcases were opened by polite security agents who lifted handfuls of items out onto the table and then dumped them back in helter-skelter. One incompletely re-zipped bag lay on the floor, underwear and a purple padded bra dangling out. An agent matter-of-factly picked everything up and shoved it back in. No secrets here.

The big plane to JFK

As we approached JFK in the early evening, we had the same thoughts. Look at all that electricity. And every road is paved. And buildings more than two stories high. Having dinner at Chili's in the airport, we learned of the food and gas shortages in New York. That world had been so far away and with sporadic access to it, the details of the storm's aftermath had escaped us. For myself, when I did hear of them, I did so in the context of world problems and hardships.

My dear neighbor was at Logan to pick us up at 11:30 p.m., winter jackets in hand. In my apartment, she had also thoughtfully turned on my heat. Other neighbors had picked up my mail, collaborated to identify and turn off a beeping CO2 alarm, taken care of my cat, done my chores, and watered my plants. Cohousing can be a very nurturing place to live and it is good to be home.

Sleeping on my soft mattress, taking a hot shower with a flow that can be regulated, a variety of food to choose from, reading into the night without a headlamp--such luxuries. So much in the world to be grateful for. One country's excess is another's deficit. And one culture's strengths are another's weaknesses. Wealth may be unevenly distributed, but no one has a corner on inner riches.

Betty and I each have plans to continue our connection to Jeremie. We both hope to engage others in supporting Renate's 3 programs (www.haitianconnection.org) and I to also arrange for some mental health services for the youth group who let us a bit into their world. All donations to the Haitian Connection go directly to services; there is no overhead since Renate draws no salary. For Christmas, you might consider giving someone a donation in their name, toward a particular project if you like. For example, it costs $2000 to build a house for a woman and her children. Student scholarships are also needed. And the Child-to-Child program is making a difference for many.

Before I left, my godmother gave me some money for something for the children of Haiti. She had stopped there once on a cruise and on the beach, some little boys tried to sell them shells they had found on the beach. Their poverty had moved her. Renate had the idea to give the money to a woman who is raising 5 children on her own and still took in another whose mother had been killed in the earthquake. He'd had no schooling before and is now learning but needs tutoring to catch up. The money will go toward that.

3 little farmers' boys who live on UNOGA property
stopped by several times after our class  in hopes of a treat.
Here they share, equitably, four cookies.

So, our Haitian adventure is over. Many blessings and a happy Thanksgiving to all.

How many Haitians (or blancs) can fit on a bus?

Saturday Nov. 3, 2012

I'll post some pictures here of our Saturday trip to the market 2 weeks ago. The dirt streets were muddy from the rain and the crowds jostled with delivery trucks for space. But everyone squeezed and passed and fit without blinking an eye. Walking through the crowds, a girl of about 10 touched Renate, Betty, and me on the arm as she passed saying softly, "belle blanc." All oreigners are blancs, even if from darkest Africa. The market extends for several blocks and has sections. Vegetables and fruit are everywhere but there is a clothing section, one for tools and the meat market, the last enough to tempt one into vegetarianism.

Now we are en route home. We were so busy this final week that I didn’t even post blogs I’d already written because I wanted to add photos but couldn’t find either the time or the juice. This morning I had my final Haiti experience riding to the airport in a pickup while sitting in the open back on the metal wheel hub or standing, holding onto the bar on top of the cab, there for that purpose. If Haitians had cameras, I’m sure they’d have photographed the crazy "blanc."

Though two of us could have fit in the cab, I wanted the open air ride. The two Haitian professors also rode in back. The rutted roads were tough on the butt. Rides home from campus the last few days were dicey because our usual car had gone to Port Au Prince, as Amenold had a few days vacation there and some business to attend to. So the university business manager, Magali, a lively Haitian woman (who is 6 mos. pregnant and speaks fluent French, Creole, and Spanish), had to call on friends to help. A friend took us once in his truck while the university comptroller was our chauffeur another few times in a different pick-up.

In the former, two staff sat crammed on a ledge behind the front bucket seats while I sat on Betty’s lap with my head half out of the roof. Another photo op for the passers-by. You have to picture us not only packed in but bouncing about wildly because of the rutted roads. I thought my arms might be torn from their sockets and Betty doubted she’d ever walk again.

Yesterday’s trip featured 3 stuffed into the cab with about 20 students packed into the open back. I don’t know how the suspension system didn’t collapse. We even stopped to pick up one more who was walking. There is a joke here: How many Haitians can you fit on a bus? Answer: one more.

Thurs. and Fri. are holidays–All Saints and All Souls Day. Because of the 3 days lost to the rains, we taught on the holidays. There is no bus service because it is the elementary school bus that kindly allows the college students to ride on it and they of course weren’t running. Which means the students have to walk the hour or more from town or hitch a ride with someone with a motorcycle. Just as they did all of Sept. before elementary school started. Without complaint. For the final exam, 51 of the 52 students were present, all but 3 on time. The one absent had been sick for 3 days with fever.


the clinic waiting room


We each had a slight bout with what in Mexico is called "Montezuma’s revenge," due either to some food or the ongoing adjustment of our digestive system to new bacterial requirements, but the Cuban doctor and nurse, both female, in the campus clinic fixed us up in no time for free. It is a wonderful feeling to be part of a local and ex-pat community that looks out for and helps each other. The friend who drove us to school in his truck the one day expected no money, even for gas. It is just what Haitians do. Renate told of a Haitian friend with a car who used to give her rides sometimes. One day, she saw that his truck was missing one wheel. "What happened?" It turns out that a friend had needed a wheel, so he lent him one of his. And did without the use of his own car until it could be returned a few days later.

Open Space and La Derniere Classe

Friday 11-2
On two afternoons earlier in this week, I conducted Open Space sessions so the students could provide input into the university’s master plan (vision). Though none had eaten since breakfast, had sat through their 4-hour morning classes, and staying meant walking home instead of taking the bus, about 35-40 students remained each day (in all three classes, there are 150 students total) from 1 until 3:30 or 4. Open Space is a self-organizing format where participants post topics they care a great deal about and people attend the groups that interest them. 

Open Space groups with topics posted on the back wall

 Because of the time factor, the process was shortened but they all got very involved and came up with many ideas–e.g. an agronomy lab, on-campus dorms, transportation, a library, etc. Our thrust was to have them not only propose things that others could carry out but to ask themselves "what they could do for their country" and to brainstorm ways they could help their vision manifest.

As it turned out, the first of these days included most of the first year students and the other day, those in their third year. Renate was the translator for both days and remarked on the big difference between the two groups. Their comments in the closing plenary session reflected how much the older class had grown since their entrance, particularly in their involvement and sense of ownership of the school and its success. Each group filled out a summary sheet which will be used as contributions to the final plan.

Last night we took Amenold, the unpaid Dean of Agronomy at UNOGA, out to dinner to thank him for all he’s done for us. Renate was to come too but it had been raining heavily and she didn’t know if the restaurant was open. Well, it was. No lights on when we entered but they used their generator to power up some intimate lighting, complete with a kind of strobe light pattern from ceiling-mounted devices. Rhythmic Haitian music played in the background during our expected one hour wait for the food. A dance floor in one corner curtained off by narrowly-spaced, thick bamboo poles and a bead-type curtain made of thin bamboo reeds held one couple. It is typical in clubs and restaurants to have the dance floor separated like that..


Mirlene at dinner

The fresh fish in a light sauce was delicious, along with a huge platter of dark rice and fried plantains. So tonight we repeated the experience with Renate and Mirlene, the university secretary. They had fish, chicken, or conch, all delicious while I tried goat–-tough and grisly. This time we had white rice and plaintains, but the slightly red sauce (like that made with sofrito though they say it is with tomato paste) was very good. The Haitian beer is also excellent and I’ve had that several times during our stay. I’m not much of a beer drinker but I must say this was light and tasty. 
 

Mme. Renate

 We are leaving our excess supplies for Renate and had set up "Betty and Mef’s Boutique" on my bed, with a large sign on the door. The items were arranged by category, so there was the stationery section featuring my unread Time magazines and novel I’d bought at JFK thinking I might run out of reading material (I had time to read exactly nothing and did only 3 sudoku instead of my usual 1-2/day) and some name tags and a newspaper only 3 weeks old. Then there was the electronics aisle, with the printer Betty had brought, batteries, USB hub, etc. The container store featured 3 plastic bags (a treat) and a plastic container. There was some clothing and a food and drug store aisle (i.e. column on the bed) as well. When I brought Renate up and opened the door, Betty was there to greet her wearing her head lantern, which was also left. It was fun and she really appreciated it.

Today was the final class day and all but one students were there. They loved the class on perception, as Betty showed them visual illusions. Meanwhile, I was finishing printing the exam, since we had not had electricity last night. Then the printer ran out of ink. Renate’s initial advice to always have a Plan B, C, and D has proved to be right on, though Betty and I have calculated that by now we were up to at least Plan Q with all the adjustments we’ve had to make.

Having heard from a previous professor about the students’ cheating and angry responses if penalized, we have had them separate their desks widely during exams. Still, some tried, unimpressed by Betty’s earlier talk on the honor system. Funny how codes of ethics work. Not greeting someone is taboo but cheating seems to carry little moral weight.

After the last class ended, there was much excitement in the group as we posed for photos and were asked by some if we were on Facebook. The next entrance class will not be until 2014 and perhaps we’ll return, by which time this crew will be "juniors." It would be wonderful to see them again as they were a really lively and fun group to teach.

Au revoir

It's all over now.

Youth and motorcycles

Monday 10/22
We were to be picked up by motorcycle at 2:45 yesterday afternoon by the cousin of one of our students to be guest speakers at his church youth group. Eliassant has been trying to instill discipline by starting on time, but... We arrived around 3:15 and about 8 of the expected 50 were there. They drifted in steadily after that, eventually numbering around 35-40. Someone sent a little boy out to buy 2 bottles of water for us. So thoughtful and kind as I know they are not cheap here and these students have no money. 

Eliassaint, left, and his cousin, our motorcycle driver

They began with introducing the 4 officers of the group, followed by a song and an earnest prayer offered, eyes closed, in preacher tones by one of the young men. Then we were introduced, with E. translating. What a rapt group. Betty spoke about the U.N.’s purpose (that had been a recent topic of theirs) and I about mental health issues and treatment. We both inquired about the Haitian experience and some good questions were asked. I’m so sorry I didn’t think to bring my camera. During the discussion period, each student stood to speak, without fail thanking us first for coming to address them and saying how much it meant.

It seems that depression is a real issue, particularly after the earthquake. One girl tearfully spoke of losing 4 college friends and asked what could help her recover. Therapeutic resources here are non-existent. Renate has trained a cadre of mental health workers but until a grant can be secured, there is no work for them because no one can afford to pay. I asked about traditional healers, but as Christians they shun witch doctors. One said they actually can make people worse. Their questions were earnest and I did what I could to underline the power of the human spirit, community support, religious faith, and the brain’s resiliency to help the healing process.

After our talks, they said they would like to sing and dance for us. The group had told E. he had to go first, so he launched into a popular song in English. Then 3 of them got up to sing a lovely hymn, also in English, the theme of which was One Day at a Time, dear Jesus. As at the mass, both men and women sang lustily and tunefully, in 3 part harmony.

Me, whizzing past the camera

I thoroughly enjoyed my first motorcycle experience and can see why people like that mode of transportation. The roads are rutted and broken but the driver drove carefully, took one of the better roads, and even slowed down at the stop signs, which even cars don’t usually do. Of course, there aren't that many 4-wheeled vehicles to begin with.

I learned later that Betty had amused the crowd outside the small church, which is located on one of the same streets as the market, by trying to maneuver her short stature onto the motorbike. Finally, she stood on a curb and managed to swing her leg over the seat.

It was an inspiring and also heart-rending afternoon.

Mass and graduation at the old cathedral

Oct. 29, Sunday
Yesterday, we all piled into Renate’s little SUV to go the 5:00 mass at the old cathedral in town. It turned out to be the law school graduation as well. Everyone here, including the poorest, are always very clean and neatly dressed in attractive clothing. I wore a sleeveless top and R. warned me that the priest might refuse me communion, as had once happened to her. However, there were a few women with bare arms and one even with a stunning yellow halter top chiffon type dress and very high heeled sandals to match. That is unusual, but I didn’t see any eyes askance. The Haitians may be too polite for that.

So cameras snapped, the graduates and ushers wore fancy little corsages, and the entrance procession with the professors and graduates in full academic regalia was solemn and proud. I must say dignified bearing seems innate. All the undergraduates, mostly men, wore suits. None of us had a camera, unfortunately. The bishop was there, the mass long and the singing divine. A chorus of boys and mostly girls had processed in, all in blue suits with bright chartreuse-yellow shirts, neatly pressed. The choir of about 30 or 40, from age 5 to mid-teens, sang beautifully and swayed rhythmically during each song. The beat was that of local music, their voices slightly less nasal than those I heard in Africa. The whole congregation sang lustily as well, including the men, in lovely harmony. I wondered if the row behind us were choir alumni.

The mass was in French, with a little Creole, and perhaps because many uneducated people don’t speak French, the words were clearly enunciated, so much was understandable. For the graduates, there are no jobs. But they like learning. A lawyer whom R. knows works as a receptionist. B&B Betty’s daughter went to school in the US at some point, perhaps high school, and was aghast at the students’ lack of respect for education and teachers. Here both are treasures.

I have often thought of writing an article for some newsletter (Maryknoll or high school) about why the US needs immigrants. Not to do them a favor, but to help return our society to a more respectful, appreciative level. In the high school where I worked, there were a few dozen immigrants and they were invariably polite, wore school clothes that different from play clothes, valued their education, and used good grammar. In fact, one student from Nigeria told me that in his school, if one did not use proper grammar, he or she had to kneel in front of the class. Not a practice I would endorse but it speaks to the importance of standards.

That is a downside of education here, where corporal punishment is still allowed and even encouraged by parents, some at least. At home, respect is also emphasized and a child who does not interrupt his activity, even if watching TV if he has one, when an adult enters the home to greet him or her is reprimanded. For elementary and high school, students wear uniforms, always clean and neat. Usually a plain colored skirt or jumper or pants for the boys and a brightly colored blouse or shirt, often yellow or lime green.

Jianna with students from the on-campus elementary school

This is true even of 23 year old high school students, who are not rare. It is not uncommon for children in a family to take turns going to school, for financial reasons. So high school graduates, where they exist, are not necessarily 17 or 18.

In our college class one day, I was giving examples of embarrassment and they happened to involve girls. One of the women called out for some examples for boys. I asked the group and the guys came up with going to school in short pants or torn sneakers would be a cause for shame. In fact, in our class the women often wear dress or casual flats and the men dress shoes. I was surprised at how many do not wear jeans or sneakers.

People are also not left alone, much to R.’s consternation when she lived in Fondwa. An introvert and bibliophile, if she sat alone to read, soon someone would come and sit on the ground next to her, then another on the other side. If you sit apart, the assumption is that something is wrong. Once, during a raging hurricane when she lived alone, two people actually climbed the mountainous terrain to her house to bring her candles and water and see that she was ok.

Below is a typical scene on a beautiful day as well as some local color!

a nice view of the guest house where we live;
clothes are drying on the 2nd floor porch


the happy professors

Mosquiteo netiquette

Oct. 27, Saturday

On Professor Mike’s cell phone last night he learned that Sandy is increasing in strength and headed for Wash. DC and points north. Despite the loss of roofs, homes, and crops, we actually got the weaker end of it. Yesterday was gorgeous, breezy, in the 80s and dry for the first time in weeks.

Re mosquito netiquette, I actually have been sleeping this week without the net because to date, I have seen exactly 4 mosquitoes, 2 of them today after the rains. I use bug spray and have the windows closed at night mostly because it gets chilly and the cover that might have added warmth is actually under me for cushioning against the springs. Prior to abandoning the net, I went through the ritual of spreading it around the bed. This is not as easy as it sounds. because unless you have a four-poster bed, the nets hang from a circular hoop on the ceiling more or less over the bed.

the senator's guest room
note mosquito nets over each bed

My first night here, at the senator’s house, the net was centered somewhere over my solar plexus, so I woke up several times with it sagging in my face, something that could be lethal for a mouth breather. "Foreign volunteer suffocates; mosquitoes blamed." The trick, of course, is to keep it tucked in all around, especially under the mattress at the head of the bed.

Mike and Janine's room, the net slightly better over a 4-poster bed

We all celebrated Friday-end-of-so-called-work-week last night with a delicious Haitian beer and playing Rummy 500 on the veranda. Such a pleasant group, and a fun evening.