The last hurrah.

  

While we have disappeared from ye ole blog from time to time in the past, the last two weeks of deafening silence indeed signal a sea change. After some reflection, we've decided to stop posting here, now that our time in Haiti has come to an end.  

It's definitely time, although our last few days in Port-au-Prince were too full and I didn't get to post about Ben and Bryan's impromptu gardening lesson our last morning in Haiti:

    

Or publish my mini-rant on Haitian standards of craftsmanship, as evidenced by this giant box built to hold keys:

Or gush about how much I loved this tap-tap painting:

Next time, I suppose...

This blog will hang out here for a while, although Bryan and I will both be posting on our new lives in Nashville & Philadelphia at nashadelphia.blogspot.com. Come on over!

Where in the world...

Yes, Carmen Sandiego is here in Haiti! - or was here at least long enough to have her portrait painted.

Speaking of comings and goings: today is our last full day in Haiti. We have many mixed feelings about this transition, but at the moment we're sad to be leaving. It's been two difficult but good years, and we're glad we did it.

What can you do to help victims of the earthquake?

This.

Stop Forced Evictions of Haiti's Earthquake Victims

The Institute for Justice and Democracy in Haiti writes,

After the earthquake of January 12th, over 2 million survivors left the wreckage of their homes and sought refuge in camps constructed on any open land. The Haitian Government and private landowners have evicted thousands of residents from these encampments without a viable alternative for their relocation, and in some cases with no alternative at all.

The UN and Haitian Government agreed on April 22 to an immediate 3-week moratorium on forced evictions which expired, Thursday, May 13th. Within that period reports of evictions continued. Humanitarian aid, including food, water and sanitation facilities have been cut off in targeted camps (1, 2). In other locations, residents are being harassed and abused by the police. The people most affected by the earthquake, those who have lost their families, homes and livelihoods, now live in fear that they may be violently forced to leave their present settlements without viable options established for relocation (2).

These actions are prohibited under the UN’s Guiding Principles on Internal Displacement. The UN Principles, which are based upon international humanitarian law and human rights instruments, establish the framework for protecting the rights of displaced people, including the right to basic services (food, water, shelter, education, medical services, and sanitation) and to be protected from violence (4). When these rights are not upheld, UN agencies are obligated to call on relevant parties to respect them (5). Specifically, the OCHA CCCM Cluster-designated Camp Coordinator is charged with developing an “exit/transition strategy for camp closures while ensuring that responses are in line with ... standards including relevant government, human rights, and legal obligations" (7, 8).

(for footnoted version go here - http://ijdh.org/archives/12237)

For a concise summary of this issue, click through to Alexis's blogpost.

The great white wave.

You may have heard about the "second earthquake" that happened in Haiti after January 12, which is what some people call the great influx of foreigners that has appeared in Port-au-Prince. As foreigners here before that moment, I should confess that we feel a certain level of snobbery - so when some hapless white person greets us with a hearty English "hello!" or waves while standing in the back of a passing truck, we're not always apt to respond.

We realized that this is similar to the Jeep Salute or the Motorcycle Wave that happens in American traffic. But really: why settle for a wave?


Yes, that is the word blan finger-spelled out.

Advantage: Creativity. Toughness.
Disadvantage: it takes a bit of wrangling and more than a few seconds to pull this together.

But loads of toughness, right?

Remember when everyone was smuggling suitcases full of blue jeans into Russia?

Well, maybe it's time to sneak suitcases full of coolers into Haiti. A local grocery store has priced this model at 29,900 gourdes. For those Yanks out there, that's $747.50 U.S. That's SEVEN HUNDRED AND FORTY-SEVEN DOLLARS. And FIFTY CENTS.

Seriously. You could make a fortune selling coolers at even half that price.

These things always happen in twos.

Sharon has a theory that all bad things happen in pairs. This means that whenever something bad happens (speeding tickets, oversleeping) she's immediately ready for the same thing to happen again in the near future.

So yesterday evening I headed out on the motorcycle. I saw another moto coming, but I saw that I had plenty of time to pull into the opposite lane. As I pulled out, he decided not to continue going straight but instead turned to avoid me. Unfortunately, and weirdly, he veered into my lane...and crashed right into me.

Well, his moto was torn up a bit, and I heard plastic bits hitting the ground and saw a brake line come off his front wheel. My moto and I were knocked over. I stood up and looked it over, and all was fine. A small group of people were ridiculing the other driver for driving into me on my side of the road. Since the only advice I've received about getting into accidents in Haiti is to get away from the scene as quickly as possible, I took the opportunity to start my moto and get out of there before the gathering crowd changed their minds. I hope the other driver is able to fix his bike without too much trouble.

This morning while in bumper-to-bumper traffic on the motorcycle with Sharon, I had to stop behind a tap-tap. These are the small pickup trucks that serve as public transport here, and suddenly the driver decided to reverse...what?...into us. We yelled for him to stop, which he fortunately did. But who reverses in traffic (#1), and if you do embark on such folly, why wouldn't you look to see if there is a car or motorcycle behind you (#2)?

Anyhow, this cycle of misfortune has begun and ended fairly quickly. I'm happy neither I nor Sharon were hurt, but it adds a new level of fear to the daily commute when I can't trust other drivers to keep their eyes open and stay in their own lanes.

Meditations on trade and development (or, please excuse the following preachiness)

Lately all signs point to this topic: the value of trade over aid.

One. A few weeks ago I finished reading The Shock Doctrine by Naomi Klein. While the discussion of disaster capitalism was alarming (and maddening), I was struck more by Klein's depiction of what happens after a country's financial system collapses. Humanitarian aid and relief organizations rush in to address the poverty, lack of educational access, compromised local markets, and host of other social problems that result from privatization and low import tariffs. I support these humanitarian missions (obviously) as stopgap efforts, but how much more effective would we be if we kept our eye on the policy ball? If we preemptively advocated for just trade around the world? If we combated poverty by preventing it?

Two. While at home on stress leave, Bryan and I checked out Black Gold, the 2006 documentary about the international coffee trade. In tracing coffee from the fields of Ethiopia to the espresso cups of New York and Italy, the film's strongest moment is at an international trade forum. Representatives from disadvantaged countries argue forcefully that what they want is trade, not aid: they want the chance to receive a fair wage for hard work.

Three. Last night the Bob Edwards Show featured an interview with Iqbal Quadir, founder of the Legatum Center at MIT and GrameenPhone in Bangladesh. He's an advocate of business and technology as a way to fight poverty, and while there are clear pitfalls to that approach I appreciated his emphasis on developing human potential as a way to create opportunities for people to help themselves. In the interview he advocated market-based solutions that allow people to carefully utilize their time (e.g., Americans can be more "productive" than their Bangladeshi counterparts because of time-saving technology) and that respond to actual needs in a community (e.g, bicycles are welcome in areas not served by public transport). He pointed out that education is often named as a panacea - but that the educated few often leave their homelands in search of opportunities to use those educations when the local markets aren't strong enough to hold them. He also argues that international aid doesn't always reach the populace, whereas microfinance and small business stimulation focuses exactly on that group of people.

Okay, so these are obviously simplistic renderings of complex ideas, and I'm conscious of the need to not conceptualize market-based development or trade policy reform as a silver bullet. However, I like the idea of trying to level the international playing field just a bit through trade reform, and I heartily support the idea of small business development that allows people to find their own, dignified way to support themselves (hint: that does not involve standing in long lines waiting for food handouts).

Yes, the earthquake is different, and material and food aid are highly appropriate and much-needed at the moment. I am just wary of development organizations getting comfortable with giving handouts to Haitians, with not engaging the many Haitian voices that should shape the vision for a reconstructed Port-au-Prince, and with continuing to disregard the structural policies that make Haiti more unlevel than any earthquake could.

(A caveat for those of you agreeing with me: taking on unjust trade policies means reshaping our American spending habits. Are we willing to vote on this with our dollars?)

Last week I heard someone joke that Haiti has experienced two earthquakes: first the one that struck on January 12, and then the invasion of foreigners here to "help." Let's hope the aftershocks of the second won't upstage the terrible first.

"Memory at 'The Modern'"

We had seen bare land
And the people bare on it
And men camp
In the city. The lights,
The pavement, this important device
Of a race, I wrote then,
Twenty three years old,
Remains till morning. Nobody knows who died
On the road of that time, of the fact of roads.
I am a man of the Thirties

'no other taste shall change this'

- George Oppen
from New Collected Poems, page 295

An assortment.

Earthquake fatigue. I know that we are just starting down a long and hard road - but now, after the immediate aftermath, it seems people around these parts are longing for normalcy on some level. Let's not get lost in pity but rather remember that all those "IDPs" are people who would love to get back to the boringness of everyday life. Camps are starting to sport small restaurants and cell phone charging stations, and today I noticed that you can get a manicure at a camp in Delmas for 75 gourdes.

Hope. Most evenings at the MCC office staff members and volunteers sit down for a few minutes of reflection. On Thursday night, just after the approximately six days of prayer that happened in lieu of Carnivale this year, we took up the topic of hope. "Who or what embodies hope for you in Haiti?"

I have a hard time pointing to any one person as an inspiration of hope. Stories of post-earthquake generosity and bravery abound, but I still feel angry that this catastrophe happened to necessitate that selflessness and courage in the first place. (Is the beauty of a family sharing with others the little food they have left worth losing more than 200,000 people? I know that the scale of this disaster is not natural and that it reflects an unjust economic system, but I can't help feeling like this "lesson" is being communicated with literal overkill.)

Head-bound as I am, the most hopeful thing for me is a statistic. The World Health Organization shows that Haiti's annual suicide rate is exceedingly low - actually, at 0% it's tied for last place (in 2003, the last year for which figures are available). Given that many Haitian families were in dire economic straits before the earthquake, you would assume that suicide might be considered a valid option for those who find themselves at the end of one rope or another. But all that knot-tying and holding on in years past gives me confidence that Haitians will pull through this as well. It's not fair that they have to, and they're not going to be able to do it without a lot of support, but they'll do it.

Relief vs. development. Speaking of support: the line is blurry between these two raisons d'etre for foreign NGOs in Haiti. So many people have been living so close to the edge for so long that any free help is very much appreciated, and there are reports of folks with intact houses moving into tents to qualify for disaster relief or people coming into Port-au-Prince from the countryside to participate in food distributions. This is of course a very small minority, but it points to the fact that earthquake recovery must include a rural development aspect as well - especially as many of those in the countryside have opened their homes to migrants from the city, and especially if the all-important work of decentralization in Haiti will take hold.

I'm still happy to be working with the Haiti Response Coalition, which despite a certain internal chaoticness is focusing on ensuring that Haitian voices are a loud-and-clear part of the mega-NGO reconstruction conversation. There are three meetings scheduled this week in which Haitian leaders and Haitian NGOs will develop a vision statement that will, we hope, guide the overall process. Stay tuned.

Making sense of it all.

I feel like I should update just to let you know what's happening with us here in Port-au-Prince. We've been busy working in the office, which is something new for us in Haiti. City life is nice (odd to say as the city has been so severely damaged): there are people around, electricity to be had, and an abundance of food items that we don't have in Desarmes. The weather is cooler and the distance between our temporary home at the Depps' and the office is more than a five minute walk (this may sound odd, but when your entire week is composed of walking across the street from your home to the office and the odd 10-minute walk to the center of town, a little distance can be nice).

How is the city? Some days I forget that an earthquake happened because stores have opened again, banks are open, and street vendors are crowding the streets as usual. Of course I didn't lose my home, no one in my family died, nor friends, nor co-workers. Every once in a while a bad smell hits you in the face and you remember what has happened, or you drive down a road and look across the valley and an entire neighborhood is rubble.

It's strange to be in a position of judging the level of need that people have and deciding whether or not they merit help. Most of Haiti would not turn down free food aid, tents, tarps, water, or shoes a few months ago, and now everyone is saying they need help. What do you say to a family who hasn't lost their home? What do you say to someone who is still employed and earning a salary? Sometimes the people that have the means and know how to ask are the ones that find aid before those that have more need but don't know how to ask for help.

The other difficult part about watching "aid" pour into the country is that a lot of the aid is going to Americans or Canadians or other international staff members. They are being paid with donation dollars and living and eating within the walls of the UN compound and all sorts of new vehicles and motorcycles are flooding the roads. I can judge other international workers just as much as I can be judged, I guess, but it's just the idea that millions of aid dollars are coming to...pay the salaries of non-Haitians, buy imported foods, etc.

Trying to finish this post... a few days later. Yesterday we dropped Ben and Alexis off at the airport and then we went over to the UN logistics base to try yet again to get IDs for easier access into the logistics base to coordinate with other NGOs or simply get more information about what is really happening here. I left there frustrated, and the drive to the office only heightened my frustration with everything, the international aid response, the traffic, work, etc. The prospect of going to the office just overwhelmed me and as I dropped off Sharon I hopped on a motorcycle to go "home." I got back, showered and sat with my book until I finished it and hung out in utter bliss in my 100% complete privacy (well, except for the cat).

All this to say, it's a bit surreal at times being in the position I'm in and the gravity of the new reality that is here in Haiti. Everything feels somewhat different now, and the country I've come to know over the past 1.5 years is a new place and the job I've come to know over the past 1.5 years is a different job.

From the second lines.

We've again been negligent with our blog, although this time I'm going to plead limited internet access (no power = no internet) and a series of meetings that are flying at us faster than you can say disaster relief.

My time lately has been split between collaborating with Alexis on various advocacy materials and working to get the Haiti Relief Coalition started. Founded as an association of smaller NGOs who were in Haiti before the earthquake and will be here for the long haul, the HRC seeks to support development organizations run by Haitians and to provide a space for and amplify their voices in the international conversation. Discussions about Haiti's future are happening nearly round the clock at the UN logbase, and scant few Haitians are present to be a part of these conversations.

While we have had a few difficulties ourselves getting access to the logbase (still waiting for our security badges), many Haitians face an embarrassingly-racist security mindset that blocks their access to meetings. The HRC envisions "holding the place at the table" for our Haitian partners until they are able to speak directly for themselves (as well as connecting them with the physical supports needed--food, shelter--in order for their staff members to continue doing development and advocacy work).

I find it maddening that the state of the world is this, that Haitians are "ethnocentrically treat[ed]...as tragic objects to be rescued -- [rather than] equals to walk with and learn from" (Jo Ann van Engen, "The Cost of Short Term Missions"). I suppose these are attitudes that we are here working to change, and the earthquake has made all-too-clear the relevance of this approach. It's not perfect yet, and it feels like we spend a lot of long hours in meetings, but the longer I'm here the more I see the value of these collaborative efforts.

It's been helpful for me to remember that Haitians are also people trying to figure out how to work with the new reality that is Port-au-Prince - and who are proving to be amazingly resilient (the vegetable vendors are already back on the streets, the occasional game of dominoes clacks from someone's yard). Even if we as foreign- and Haitian-run NGOs haven't yet achieved true collaboration, I find that the vision of such an inter-respectful and dialogic working model has kept me going in those moments when it seems like it would just be simpler to do the work without asking for input from others. However, I recognize that in learning from one another, we can potentially achieve the "mutually-transformative relationships" MCC values (yes, those values that are so easily endangered by daily minutia). I am not yet fully able to live this approach, but I want to continue striving in this direction.

A quick word

We've been neglecting the internet this week because Monday morning we came to Port-au-Prince and tried to hit the ground running. I've been working for the last two days at the U.N.'s logistics base, working to get MCC's canned meat to people who need it here, as well as helping Alexis organize a database of assessments of camps set up around the city. Bryan's been delivering food, talking with neighbors, and generally helping things run smoothly at the MCC office.

At the moment a bunch of folks are sleeping at the Depps' house, which is where we were this morning when the 6.2-level aftershock swept through the city. Even though we were sleeping outdoors on a covered patio, we all leapt up and ran out to an uncovered area - it was unsettling to say the least. So far we've only heard of minimal damage from that tremor, so that's positive.

There are fewer people on the streets than usual (I guess that "usual" will never come back), although lots more with big bags and lots more just hanging out. Many, many people have started to leave Port-au-Prince to go live with friends and families in the countryside, and a concern is making sure those areas receive the help they need to absorb the population increase. Fortunately (or really unfortunately) many Haitians are used to living without electricity or running water and having to bathe outdoors. Things are bad and there's need everywhere you look - but people are still able to be kind, to kick around a soccer ball, to start to clean up the mess. It's been encouraging for us to come here and see how much actually is being done, how people are caring for each other, and how people are starting to cope with what happened.

You never forget how.

May 1 is a national holiday (Agriculture Day), and we decided to spend the long weekend in Port-au-Prince for some always-needed out-of-Dezam time.Our friend Ben just bought a bike a few weekends ago in St. Marc, which brings the total number of bikes at the Depps' to 2. On Friday morning Ben and I decided to go for a ride. Port is built on a hill, so everywhere is up or down and we decided to go up first to get the hard pedaling out of the way.

I hopped on the Ardis Silver Bike, which bears a sticker proudly announcing that it was handbuilt in the Ukraine. Ben was riding his new, circa-1980 Trek road bike. We pedaled out to the main road and start cranking up the hill. Immediately my heart started thumping and my lungs turned to fire. As I was cranking up the hill I put my head down and just thought about breathing and spinning the pedals. Maybe I was taking in too many deep breaths of exhaust, but fatigue hit me hard and I asked for a breather. Okay, not so bad, I haven't been on a bike in 9 months so what can I expect? We stand, I breathe, we continue on.

Another mile up the hill - wham-o, I start feeling nauseated. I pedal over to the side of the road where I, um, expeditiously empty the contents of my stomach onto the pavement. What a milestone: first time I've ever experience exercise-induced sickness. I got it out of my system and drank some water. I didn't feel 100% sick, just the very urgent need to throw up. (I guess I didn't look too bad, as Ben told me he wished he had his camera. Thanks.) We continue to the top of the hill in Petionville where I chicken out, deciding that it's best we turn back as I don't want to throw up again.

We tear back down the road, passing cars and buses. The feeling of speed, wind and weightlessness from the top of a bike was amazing and I remembered why I missed biking so much. So it sucked to throw up from biking (and it's only the 4th time in my life I remember throwing up at all), but well worth it. In a few weeks some friends are coming to Haiti to visit us and they agreed to bring my mountain bike with them. Now I have this crazy nervous anticipation eating away at me, first because I can't wait to ride more and second because I'm not quite sure I can handle it. Ah, let's blame it on midday heat and lungfuls of exhaust.

Bring on the hills and the heat. It's worth it.

Jwaye Nwel!

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!

Sad things.

Being in Haiti has its ups and downs, and one of the things I dislike more than most is when you can't be with your family when loved ones die. My grandmother, Lois Thompson, passed away on Saturday after spending her final weeks at home with family and friends. Feelings of guilt creep in pretty easily for me, and I feel as if I should be home for this. Please remember her and my family in your prayers and thoughts.

Also, on Friday a school collapsed in Port-au-Prince. For a country that has ongoing daily problems with food security, unemployment, and the like, this is yet another tragedy. We were in the city this past weekend - market women are talking about it, and people are following the news as the search for survivors continues. Please pray for the families affected by this tragedy. If you want to read more about this, you can do so here.

Still a city gal at heart

I'm still learning to look for nuance in the countryside, to recognize a dirt track as a legitimate thoroughfare, to spot a school in a slightly-larger-than-usual enclosure. (I have similar problems in the U.S. countryside. It's so hard to find things out there!)

In the meantime, one of our favorite things about Haiti is tap-tap decoration. (For those of you who need a refresher, tap-taps are trucks that provide public transportation throughout Haiti. They're often heavily loaded with people and goods--once we saw a woman riding with her refrigerator!--and have fixed routes and generally fixed prices.) For the most part, the tap-taps in the Artibonite Valley look like pickup trucks with extra seating in the back, but many of the ones in Port-au-Prince are one-truck parades.

On our most recent trip to the city, we spotted these beauts:

I'm still trying to figure out what that animal is on the side.

Che seems to be a popular figure: he makes not-infrequent appearances throughout the city.

More popular than Che.

Do those dollar signs count as second mudflaps?

Just amazing.

How can you not love these?

Off we go....

After much anticipation, we are finally scheduled to go to Desarmes (Dezam) tomorrow. Even though a bridge is still out at about the halfway point, we'll be met on the other side of the bridge by our Desarmes MCC team. The bridge is still passable by foot, motorbike and bicycle - just not vehicle. So today we tried to finish up loose ends here in Port-au-Prince (getting drivers' licenses, buying essentials, finishing laundry, etc.) so we can leave without too much unfinished business lingering around. Tomorrow we have to wake up early to try to finish up the last few tasks and be on the road by 11am. I'm a little skeptical that we will actually leave by 11:00, as we have a meeting with the bank early to see if our account is set up, have to meet with a partner organization, and then head back to the Drivers' License office for round #2 of getting the licenses.

Some people have asked us how hard things have been here since the flooding and hurricanes -and honestly, we ourselves have not been affected at all. We haven't even heard much of the news, as everything we hear is in Creole or French; even though we have been studying for a while, the most I can get is "flood, money, hungry, Gonaives, bad roads." (This is actually not too bad, as the DJs rapid-fire their Creole.)

Port-au-Prince hasn't skipped a beat, and it's hard to know what is really happening. It seems most people in the U.S. are getting more news than we are - today I got two e-mails about Matt Damon, and some internet searching revealed that he and Wyclef Jean were here on Sunday. It seems we are about one day behind the U.S. in news from Haiti.

Check out Ben and Alexis's blog for photos of the flooding in Gonaives. Ben drove up there on a fact-finding mission on Friday and was able to document some of what's happening. MCC is helping out with relief through some of its partner organizations here in Haiti, but I'm not quite sure exactly when they are doing what.

It's strange to feel that we are close to so much tragedy, but it still feels so far away. At the moment it feels like we can't really do anything directly, but we're open to suggestions.

Any Port-au-Prince in a storm

We've been trying to head out to Desarmes for the last week or so, but the recent hurricanes damaged roads and delayed our move until this coming Tuesday (si dye vle, if God wants). It's been nice to have a little more time to explore this complex city.

Some highlights:

-Wall murals of uplifting sayings by a somewhat mysterious organization.
-Paintings, and copies of paintings, for sale everywhere.
-Goats grazing on a little strip of grass at the gas station.
-Two amazing things that I haven't yet photographed: the ultracolorful tap-taps, the truck-taxis that are public transportation, and the painted portraits advertising hair salons throughout the city. Stay tuned.
-Frequent electricity. Frequent internet access.
-The fact that I think about Celine Dion every day, because the water trucks (think ice cream trucks) play the theme from Titanic loudly and often, on ice-cream-truck-quality speakers.
-Creole lessons with a professional tutor. Seriously. He wrote our textbook.
-Swimming pools at fancy hotels.

The following:



So, moving to Desarmes. The current plan is for us to drive to the river on Tuesday, cross a bridge on foot with all our stuff, and meet the reforestation team and their truck on the other side. Because we've heard that the market in Desarmes is still closed because of flooding, we're planning to take food for several weeks with us. It's unclear whether Ben and Alexis will come with us for a week or whether they'll postpone their visit even further.

The Artibonite Valley was definitely affected by the hurricanes, but definitely not as severely as Gonaives and other cities in Haiti. MCC is currently raising support for material aid: you can read their official press release here.

Still in Port-au-Prince

Well, we wrote a few weeks ago that after a week in Port-au-Prince we would head to Desarmes to visit our new home. Well, as you have read or seen on the news, Hurricanes Gustav and Hanna hit Haiti. In PAP we didn't get much more than rain and some strong winds, not much to write about, but everywhere else got hit really hard, especially the low-lying areas north of us (Gonaives and St. Mark). Enough rain fell that both cities were totally flooded, and on top of this a dam in the mountains close to the Dominican Republic had to open up because it could no longer hold the rainwater. Needless to say, all of this water destroyed a lot of the Artibonite River Valley crops, which include: rice, bananas, plantains, corn and thousands of families' subsistence gardens. To make matters even worse, bridges have been destroyed so vehicles cannot get into these areas.

What does this mean for us? We cannot get to Desarmes yet, and for now we need to wait in PAP until the bridges are rebuilt and roads are passable again.

I've was expecting Desarmes to be different from PAP. Now with most gardens destroyed, it will certainly add to the severity of any problem that previously existed. But, as our Creole teacher just pointed out to me, Haiti is a place where the possible can be impossible--but the impossible is always possible.

Sainte Trinite

Last Sunday we had the opportunity to visit the Cathedral Sainte Trinite, a remarkable church vibrant with murals interpreting Biblical stories in a uniquely Haitian way. Commissioned in the 1950s, this project "helped spark a renaissance of all the arts in Haiti" (Bessinger 1995).

The lighting was pretty low in the church, but these photos should give you some sense of the color and detail of the paintings.

(It reminded me of the Church of the Advocate in Philadelphia, which those of you in the U.S. should visit if you're looking for a similar experience that's closer to home.)