We spent our first Christmas in Haiti in Port-au-Prince with the Depps and other friends - although not our Haitian friends, since Christmas is not that big a deal in Haitian culture. On Christmas morning we gave a ride to one of our Haitian partners as we headed to the city:
Bryan: Are you doing anything for Christmas?
Alain: Yes, but not tonight. I'm doing something on the 31st.
But that's New Year's, of course...
Click here for photos.
We're currently in the Dominican Republic, enjoying a few much-needed days at the beach. More when we return!
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Crèche, Haitian style
Because Christmas is nearly invisible in Desarmes (business as usual, endlessly sunny weather), I'm especially glad to have this crèche we picked up at a craft fair a few months ago:
There are lots of things to love about it. The way the wise man's belly shows while his arm steadies the load on his head:
All these other characters:
Who are they? I'm not sure, but to me it seems totally Haitian to have a bunch of people standing around watching whatever is happening. "We can't not look," as Jean-Remy says. And really: where would be a better place to show up and check things out than the infamous stable in Bethlehem?
I love that Joseph is holding a flower:
It seems much more fitting than the lanterns or staffs the Josephs of my childhood always held. It's like he's offering a gift of his own.
And I must admit, I love that Jesus looks like a little cracker-topper. It's probably about as close to a holiday-party canapè as we'll get this year.
There are lots of things to love about it. The way the wise man's belly shows while his arm steadies the load on his head:
All these other characters:
Who are they? I'm not sure, but to me it seems totally Haitian to have a bunch of people standing around watching whatever is happening. "We can't not look," as Jean-Remy says. And really: where would be a better place to show up and check things out than the infamous stable in Bethlehem?I love that Joseph is holding a flower:
It seems much more fitting than the lanterns or staffs the Josephs of my childhood always held. It's like he's offering a gift of his own.And I must admit, I love that Jesus looks like a little cracker-topper. It's probably about as close to a holiday-party canapè as we'll get this year.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
More from the Dominican Republic
Our last post detailed the trials of border crossing, but we thought we should also show you a little of what we did while there:
We spent time visiting the farms of a local community group.
Have you ever seen black pepper growing in a garden? This plot kept turning up new wonders: tangerines, sweet potatoes, spices, and passionfruit.
A mischievous Dominican horse.
Fields of oregano - it was like walking on deliciously-scented clouds.
Looks like even Santa had trouble getting a visa this year.
Sorry, I couldn't resist the cheesy ending!
We spent time visiting the farms of a local community group.
Have you ever seen black pepper growing in a garden? This plot kept turning up new wonders: tangerines, sweet potatoes, spices, and passionfruit.
A mischievous Dominican horse.
Fields of oregano - it was like walking on deliciously-scented clouds.
Looks like even Santa had trouble getting a visa this year.Sorry, I couldn't resist the cheesy ending!
Monday, December 8, 2008
Our weekend in the DR
This past weekend we took a trip to the Dominican Republic (which most people simply call "The D.R."). We had a fairly simple job: drive in, pick up some plastic cones that are used for starting seedlings in our tree nurseries, and return to Haiti with them. We went with Pancha, our friend and co-worker here in Haiti; she speaks Spanish and we hoped that with our combined powers we could accomplish the mission. Easy enough, right?
We left Port-au-Prince all smiles, with hopes and dreams of experiencing the well-developed vacationland on the other side of the border. There were rumors of smooth roads, hot showers, and stores stocked to overflowing. We had planned to leave early in the morning last Friday in order to get the border crossing over with as soon as possible. One problem: the truck went to the shop on Thursday to get a final look-over, and they decided it should get a new clutch. Okay. Truck should be done by 9am. We actually got the truck shortly after 9, miraculously, and departed around 10am.
An hour later, we arrived at the border. There we found a rope across the road and police standing around; as we pulled up to the stop, some people came up to the truck and asked for our passports. A cop comes over and looks at our papers. He told us there was a problem: the paper saying we have permission to drive the truck (on MCC letterhead, signed by our country representative) does not have a stamp. "Not sufficient," the cop snorts at us. "What?!"
"You need a stamp," he says again. "You can't pass."
Another guy now chimes in. "It's not a problem; just park over there."
We do, and he explains we need to pay the cop for this error in our paperwork. Okay, so we give some money for that; are we clear now? No, of course not. This guy now needs money to get our passports through immigration.
We finally got through the Haiti side to arrive at the D.R. border patrol. They say park, we park, they take papers, we stand out in the parking lot waiting for someone to finish eating lunch so he can stamp our passports, and then they ask for money to enter the country.
Well, we bought the necessary tourist cards ahead of time, but they are now missing. Where did they go? The guy that has been handling our passports is also missing. We express our displeasure about the missing cards and finally they reappear in the hands of passport handler: phew. But of course we just paid for new cards, so now those cards are useless for this trip. At least we'll have them for next time.
Are we free to go?
No, now it seems the insurance we have for the truck is not sufficient. Just pay this person some money, of course, and they can take care of that for you. Finally, after almost two hours, we leave the border area a little bit lighter in the pocketbook. We are all smiles again, happy to be away from people preying upon others and the disorder of the border. Everyone knows someone that can solve your problem, as long as you have just a little bit more money.
We arrived at our hotel, and it was amazing. We ate pizza and put our bare feet in grass (yeah for grass!). We got warm showers and slept in a nice bed (ah, the little things). The next morning we easily picked up the cones at a plastics manufacturing company, after which we spent the late morning and afternoon with the director of Floresta, Carlos Disla, and he packed the day with community visits, nursery visits, eating, and picking up a few things at a large store. He was amazing and gave us a lot of his time, energy, and patience.
Unfortunately we had to leave the next day, so we set off for Haiti early Sunday. We had no problem returning to the border: we even had time to stop at a beautiful clear swimming hole with a pool hall/bar next to it (with crazy-loud music, of course).
We arrived at the border again, this time thinking we could do everything on our own and not pay any "helpers" or "fixers." We got pretty far into the process: we paid a $20 exit tax, paid a little more to solve some "problems," and finally left the D.R. side again feeling a little taken advantage of but good that at least we made it through.
After driving a mere ten feet, we realized we had a flat tire. What? It was fine during the whole hour we sat in the parking lot, so why now? Well, we did have a fairly constant stream of demands for money from the kids that inhabit this weird no-country between the borders; we chatted with them a bit but didn't give any money because we were dealing with the frustration of the border "officials." Next time, though, we'll be sure to pay off the kids so they won't mess with our tires. So we fix the flat with no shortage of people wanting to "help," but at this point I'm getting pretty cranky as the offers of help seem to be thinly-disguised attempts to extract money from you.
So we changed the tire and drive the 1/2 mile between customs offices, which is nothing, just a dirt road along the water. We arrived at the Haiti side and quickly got our passports stamped to leave and are about to drive away when a "helper" flags us down and gets an official to look inside the truck. The questions begin about what we have and where we're going: "Well, this is an entirely different matter."
We then need to visit a battery of people, asking each what we need to do in order to leave and what needs to happen. This takes hours....yes hours, until finally they tell us we need to pay them 15,000 Haitian gourdes to enter Haiti with our purchases. That's about $400 U.S.
"How did you come up with that amount? What percentage are you using?"
"You don't work with the government so you don't need to know."
Well, surprisingly, we didn't have $400 in cash with us, so we called the guy that made this run last time. Nope, he never paid anything like that. Okay. So we call our country representative, and he talks to the "director" at the border and asks if we can send a check to them.
"No, of course not."
"Can he go to the customs office in Port-au-Prince and pay there so we can cross?"
"No, you can only pay cash here at this office. You can't pay at the head office in Port-au-Prince, this is a new tax here."
Right. So we plead and argue and beg, with no luck. They say they must take everything and keep it until we return with the money. Even better. So we beg and plead some more, but eventually they tossed everything into a huge steel shipping container. We wanted to take pictures of the whole thing so our supplies wouldn't disappear, but tempers immediately flared. "No! No pictures, we need to protect our workers!"
From what? "So do you even know how many cones you're taking from us?"
"Of course! That man knows!"
We ask that man... blank stare....
" He doesn't even know how many he took!"
"What country are you from?" the man asks.
"America."
"Of course! Americans! *&^ %$#@ #%^*&* !!!"
Of course they kept all our receipts and paperwork in a folder. They tore off a paper stub for us to claim our goods later: no name, no telephone number, just a 1" x 3" piece of paper with a number on it.
This is about 4 hours after arriving at the border. We are now mentally, emotionally, and financially spent. We want to leave, but over comes our "helper," the one who pointed our load out to the officials. He proceeds to ask for money for all of his "help." Of course!
We finally get out of the border area with the sun setting in front of us and an hour or so of driving in the dark in Haiti, which is about as fun as it sounds: it's an obstacle course of goats, cows, children, bikes, and pedestrians all using the road at night. We get back to the office, tired and grumpy, get some food, and try to laugh at the whole situation. We vow to never visit the D.R. again by car. Take a bus, catch a plane, or swim, anything besides driving yourself.
*Update*
The cones were all retrieved at the border two days later. Pancha and Joseph returned with money and the slip of paper but were met with more demands for paperwork and other documents. After talking/discussing/pleading with the officials ,eventually everything was returned.
Today (Dec. 13, 2008) the cones arrived in Desarmes. Finally.
Thanks, Pancha and Joseph!
We left Port-au-Prince all smiles, with hopes and dreams of experiencing the well-developed vacationland on the other side of the border. There were rumors of smooth roads, hot showers, and stores stocked to overflowing. We had planned to leave early in the morning last Friday in order to get the border crossing over with as soon as possible. One problem: the truck went to the shop on Thursday to get a final look-over, and they decided it should get a new clutch. Okay. Truck should be done by 9am. We actually got the truck shortly after 9, miraculously, and departed around 10am.
An hour later, we arrived at the border. There we found a rope across the road and police standing around; as we pulled up to the stop, some people came up to the truck and asked for our passports. A cop comes over and looks at our papers. He told us there was a problem: the paper saying we have permission to drive the truck (on MCC letterhead, signed by our country representative) does not have a stamp. "Not sufficient," the cop snorts at us. "What?!"
"You need a stamp," he says again. "You can't pass."
Another guy now chimes in. "It's not a problem; just park over there."
We do, and he explains we need to pay the cop for this error in our paperwork. Okay, so we give some money for that; are we clear now? No, of course not. This guy now needs money to get our passports through immigration.
We finally got through the Haiti side to arrive at the D.R. border patrol. They say park, we park, they take papers, we stand out in the parking lot waiting for someone to finish eating lunch so he can stamp our passports, and then they ask for money to enter the country.
Well, we bought the necessary tourist cards ahead of time, but they are now missing. Where did they go? The guy that has been handling our passports is also missing. We express our displeasure about the missing cards and finally they reappear in the hands of passport handler: phew. But of course we just paid for new cards, so now those cards are useless for this trip. At least we'll have them for next time.
Are we free to go?
No, now it seems the insurance we have for the truck is not sufficient. Just pay this person some money, of course, and they can take care of that for you. Finally, after almost two hours, we leave the border area a little bit lighter in the pocketbook. We are all smiles again, happy to be away from people preying upon others and the disorder of the border. Everyone knows someone that can solve your problem, as long as you have just a little bit more money.
We arrived at our hotel, and it was amazing. We ate pizza and put our bare feet in grass (yeah for grass!). We got warm showers and slept in a nice bed (ah, the little things). The next morning we easily picked up the cones at a plastics manufacturing company, after which we spent the late morning and afternoon with the director of Floresta, Carlos Disla, and he packed the day with community visits, nursery visits, eating, and picking up a few things at a large store. He was amazing and gave us a lot of his time, energy, and patience.
Unfortunately we had to leave the next day, so we set off for Haiti early Sunday. We had no problem returning to the border: we even had time to stop at a beautiful clear swimming hole with a pool hall/bar next to it (with crazy-loud music, of course).
We arrived at the border again, this time thinking we could do everything on our own and not pay any "helpers" or "fixers." We got pretty far into the process: we paid a $20 exit tax, paid a little more to solve some "problems," and finally left the D.R. side again feeling a little taken advantage of but good that at least we made it through.
After driving a mere ten feet, we realized we had a flat tire. What? It was fine during the whole hour we sat in the parking lot, so why now? Well, we did have a fairly constant stream of demands for money from the kids that inhabit this weird no-country between the borders; we chatted with them a bit but didn't give any money because we were dealing with the frustration of the border "officials." Next time, though, we'll be sure to pay off the kids so they won't mess with our tires. So we fix the flat with no shortage of people wanting to "help," but at this point I'm getting pretty cranky as the offers of help seem to be thinly-disguised attempts to extract money from you.
So we changed the tire and drive the 1/2 mile between customs offices, which is nothing, just a dirt road along the water. We arrived at the Haiti side and quickly got our passports stamped to leave and are about to drive away when a "helper" flags us down and gets an official to look inside the truck. The questions begin about what we have and where we're going: "Well, this is an entirely different matter."
We then need to visit a battery of people, asking each what we need to do in order to leave and what needs to happen. This takes hours....yes hours, until finally they tell us we need to pay them 15,000 Haitian gourdes to enter Haiti with our purchases. That's about $400 U.S.
"How did you come up with that amount? What percentage are you using?"
"You don't work with the government so you don't need to know."
Well, surprisingly, we didn't have $400 in cash with us, so we called the guy that made this run last time. Nope, he never paid anything like that. Okay. So we call our country representative, and he talks to the "director" at the border and asks if we can send a check to them.
"No, of course not."
"Can he go to the customs office in Port-au-Prince and pay there so we can cross?"
"No, you can only pay cash here at this office. You can't pay at the head office in Port-au-Prince, this is a new tax here."
Right. So we plead and argue and beg, with no luck. They say they must take everything and keep it until we return with the money. Even better. So we beg and plead some more, but eventually they tossed everything into a huge steel shipping container. We wanted to take pictures of the whole thing so our supplies wouldn't disappear, but tempers immediately flared. "No! No pictures, we need to protect our workers!"
From what? "So do you even know how many cones you're taking from us?"
"Of course! That man knows!"
We ask that man... blank stare....
" He doesn't even know how many he took!"
"What country are you from?" the man asks.
"America."
"Of course! Americans! *&^ %$#@ #%^*&* !!!"
Of course they kept all our receipts and paperwork in a folder. They tore off a paper stub for us to claim our goods later: no name, no telephone number, just a 1" x 3" piece of paper with a number on it.
This is about 4 hours after arriving at the border. We are now mentally, emotionally, and financially spent. We want to leave, but over comes our "helper," the one who pointed our load out to the officials. He proceeds to ask for money for all of his "help." Of course!
We finally get out of the border area with the sun setting in front of us and an hour or so of driving in the dark in Haiti, which is about as fun as it sounds: it's an obstacle course of goats, cows, children, bikes, and pedestrians all using the road at night. We get back to the office, tired and grumpy, get some food, and try to laugh at the whole situation. We vow to never visit the D.R. again by car. Take a bus, catch a plane, or swim, anything besides driving yourself.
*Update*
The cones were all retrieved at the border two days later. Pancha and Joseph returned with money and the slip of paper but were met with more demands for paperwork and other documents. After talking/discussing/pleading with the officials ,eventually everything was returned.
Today (Dec. 13, 2008) the cones arrived in Desarmes. Finally.
Thanks, Pancha and Joseph!
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
A brief introduction to our house.
Here it is, finally. Our humble little house.
Not much to say, really; after about a month, we still have a love/hate relationship with the house. We love that we have a house to live in - but then comes the actual day-to-day living in a house. Dealing with two sets of neighbors carrying on a conversation over your house; trying to be back in our house before it's too late in the evening because the neighbors will lock the gate from the inside (and the gate is nearly impossible to open without injury from the outside); and the incredible amount of noise four adult turkeys can produce at 5:30 a.m.
On the fun side, we've started a garden on our roof! So far beans and pumpkins have sprouted. We hope they grow like crazy and shade the roof to keep it cooler in the summer (and produce food too, of course).
We have some running water and two electric lights in the house, which may sound pretty rudimentary but it's way more than most people have.
Enjoy!
If you were to look to the right, that would be our neighbor's/landlord's house, with whom we share a lakou (fenced-in yard). Our next gardening step is to plant ornamental bushes along the side of the house.
Fin
Not much to say, really; after about a month, we still have a love/hate relationship with the house. We love that we have a house to live in - but then comes the actual day-to-day living in a house. Dealing with two sets of neighbors carrying on a conversation over your house; trying to be back in our house before it's too late in the evening because the neighbors will lock the gate from the inside (and the gate is nearly impossible to open without injury from the outside); and the incredible amount of noise four adult turkeys can produce at 5:30 a.m.
On the fun side, we've started a garden on our roof! So far beans and pumpkins have sprouted. We hope they grow like crazy and shade the roof to keep it cooler in the summer (and produce food too, of course).
We have some running water and two electric lights in the house, which may sound pretty rudimentary but it's way more than most people have.
Enjoy!
If you were to look to the right, that would be our neighbor's/landlord's house, with whom we share a lakou (fenced-in yard). Our next gardening step is to plant ornamental bushes along the side of the house.
Fin
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