I'm Not In Kansas Anymore

I arrived in Haiti this morning at around 9:30am. American Airlines decided that I didn't quite need my clothes enough to put them on the plane that I was flying into a third world country on. I was told that they would arrive at 3:45 that afternoon.

After a 1.5 hour car ride to Belval Plaza, I realized that it would be a virtual impossibility for me to get back to the airport to get my bag. The drive was 28 miles from the airport, but the sheer ineptitude of everything in Haiti stretched the drive to an hour and a half. I paid my driver $80 U.S. (this is the going rate to hire someone to transport you over rivers of trash and fecal matter).

I got to the camp sans clothing. I explained my ordeal to the base manager Natalie and she told me she'd do the best that she could to get me my clothing. We had a lunch of rice and beans, goat, lettuce and hot sauce. It was actually pretty good. This was the first time that I've had goat. It was like a mix between beef and lamb. After lunch I set up my mosquito net and went out for duty on the "rubble team". We piled into the back of a white pickup truck like a bunch of Marxist guerillas in Nicaragua. We were off.

The home we were demolishing was a mess. There was rubble everywhere. Three people had died there, and what remained of the family milled about as we smashed cinder blocks. We loaded wheel barrows with the debris and transported it down the road to fortify the shanties for the "flood season".

Yes, we were literally smashing up homes and using the debris to build flood barriers for the shacks that people are living in. Small children were scattered everywhere. They even starting picking up shovels to help. The adults and teens just stood there and watched us work. I wasn't terribly bothered by their inactivity. I figured that they had endured enough already.

We tore apart re-bar and collapsed walls and ceilings. One particularly harrowing moment was when our team leader Neil's life flashed before our eyes. We were trying to bring down a structure that just wouldn't budge. We tied rope to it and tugged with all our might. Neil then got under the cement roof and started pounding on it with a sledgehammer. We all yelled out, "STOP!!!" but it was too late. The roof collapsed on him. I was sure he was dead. Someone, he slipped out from under it with only scratches on his back. He apologized later at a group meeting for his cavalier actions. He should have apologized to the people in the community. They were standing around watching us work at a property where three people had died previously under the crushing weight of ceilings and walls. Children were crying and the entire village congregated around the scene. We had to get our Creole translator Richardson to the site to apologize properly. What an ordeal!

We headed home and had dinner. We had spaghetti with goat hot dogs and hard boiled eggs. It was actually tasty. And somehow, another volunteer was able to get my bag from the baggage check. I had felt disgusting and sweaty all day, and the knowledge that I now had my clothes, deodorant and other toiletries was a great comfort.

In celebration, we went to the local tavern to have a few libations. On my way home, I was accosted by 5 boys who were younger than 5 years old. They were demanding money and cigarettes. Unfortunately for them, I had neither.

Stay tuned. There is plenty more to come.