Before I got to Haiti, I loved looking at Appropriate Technology (AT) websites to get ideas about what I could do when I got here. There are usually a lot of bicycle-powered devices, so I am of course immediately drawn to them. If you need a brief refresher, Appropriate Technology is taking things that are cheaply and readily available in an area and finding some way to use them to relieve a problem.
Usually AT is really interesting and totally MacGyver-inspired. Some bailing wire, a box of matches, and some duct tape, and people don't go hungry. It's really amazing stuff that I totally fell in love with. There are bicycle-powered electricity generators, water pumps, corn grinders that could pretty much save the planet. But after my love affair with AT, I came across some other commentators that spoke to the challenges of AT.
I heard a story of a village in Africa where women spend hours and hours every day washing clothes by hand. Someone saw this and thought, what an amazing waste of time! So they gave them some time-saving bicycled-powered washing machines. However, the project was a total failure. The first challenge was the deeply-rooted thought that women should not ride bicycles. It also turned out the time the women had been spending on laundry was also an important time for them to hang out and talk, and once they could wash clothes in 3o minutes the community became more disconnected. Okay, that's just to point out that there are always multiple layers in considering whether a project will actually work.
I still thought AT was great as long as you work out a few kinks here and there, but still didn't quite get it. An example that hits close to home here in Haiti is cutting trees to make charcoal.
A lot of people in Haiti do this (When I say "a lot," I mean that it almost seems like everyone supplements their income at some point in the year with a little charcoal-making). Obviously, finding alternate cooking fuels would alleviate the pressure to cut down much-needed trees. I found a website that describes how to make briquettes with waste material from other crops, and there are people here that are trying to promote the use of propane gas stoves. But a lot of Haitians think food doesn't taste as good cooked over a gas burner, and they prefer charcoal fires. When you hear this it's almost mind-blowing that they prefer taste over environmental sustainability. But in reality so does every American...right? We prefer eating a perfect banana shipped from Costa Rica more than food grown in our area, and that's a taste preference, right? It's hard to argue when it comes to such a cornerstone of culture of food.
After having these ideas swirling around in my head for awhile, I now see AT from the other end of the spectrum, the receiving end. I see people come to Haiti with a million ideas, a few thousand dollars, and expect to change the whole country - but really don't sit for more than a few minutes to get to know a Haitian. It's usually "what can I buy? how can my money be most effective here?" Well, first save your money and sit with some people, share food with them, visit their homes, ask about their kids, look at family photos and see them as people and not as problems that need to be solved.
I just get hung up on the fact that people seem to think that it's so easy to solve "basic" problems like food, water, and fuel - that because Haitians are relatively poor, they will eat or use anything we suggest.
Several times here I have seen folks offer suggestions for "Haitians," and our teammates look at the ideas and say, "That may be good for the peasants up on the mountain or folks in Gonaives" - when the intended audience is in fact them. It's so easy to solve other people's problems, right?
Appropriate technology enthusiasts (like me) sometimes seem to get caught up in the simple brilliance of a new idea and lose track of the person/people it's for. I don't mean to discourage anyone from offering new ideas to help people, but after being here for 6 months I now see how complicated it can be. Someone recently asked why people don't cut open their tin cans and flatten them to make roof tiles. I said they don't because they buy sheets of tin roofing. The person pointed out that it would be cheaper if they used tin cans. True. But my new litmus test for suggestions is to imagine asking the same question to someone in North America:
"Save all of your cans for the year and flatten them out to re-roof your house."
"Well...It might save money, but it's easier to just buy shingles!"
People in Haiti think the same way - who wants to be the only one in town with "trash" for a roof? I guess what I'm trying to say is that just because people are poor doesn't mean they have no pride, that they don't have opinions and want to make choices.
I will also admit that we live in a relatively wealthy part of Haiti. We live in a town where people do not go hungry. They have gardens that are productive and extended family networks to support them. When a hurricane comes they lose some crops, but they don't lose everything. I still see people that wear old clothes and get up at 3:30 am to work in their gardens, but they have old clothes and they have a garden which is a lot more than some people have.
I guess I'll just say that I personally feel bad that I used to only see the "developing world" as the "developing world." They weren't people I knew or friends, they were "developing cultures"....right? Well, now they're not "Haitians" anymore; they're Jean, Meleck, Frantzo, Fritzner, Nahomie, Francklin, and Michelet. Now when people come with all their ideas the only thing I want them to do is see how great Jean is (they're all great, but he is really great) and we can save the grand idea for next week.
I guess this is me finally realizing the MCC point of view that relationships are the primary
reason for us to be here and the rest will, hopefully, fall into place.
Thanks for reading,
Bryan
Monday, January 12, 2009
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Where have we been?
The last few weeks have been pretty busy for us, so the quick and dirty list of our events goes like this:
1. Pastor's conference on Dec. 12-13th, hosting 3 people who were leading discussions on the connection between the church and the environment (at least that's what we asked them to do, although the only part of the conversation we could follow was about how the church could make money) with about 15 pastors who came each day at 8am and finished around 3pm.
2. Teacher's training from Dec. 15 - 20th. We hosted four teachers from La Gonave who came to do a fòmasyon in teaching methods and theory. About 20 teachers came each day around 8am and left around 2pm.
3. Teacher's training and excursion to Anse Rouge (Dec. 22 - 24th). We stuffed the aforementioned teachers, 2 partners, and 6 MCC workers (22 people total) into our Toyota Landcruiser and Hilux pickup and drove 4 hours through hurricane-damaged Gonaives and into a super-dry deserty part of the country for three days of training with the folks at AMURT. I was most interested in their salt-making projects using seawater.
Our big stack of sleeping pads in the barn-turned-guesthouse in Anse Rouge. Fortunately these were provided, although Sharon and I missed the notice to bring linens and ended up sleeping in our jeans...
4. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. We returned from Anse Rouge in time to make it to the Christmas Eve service at our local Catholic church, which ended around 10pm. Normally that's not too bad, but after driving for 4+ hours over the worst roads in the Caribbean, I was a bit beat.
5. Christmas Day. Got up early to drive into Port-au-Prince to celebrate Christmas with our friends there. Christmas finally arrived!
6. Deal with a case of dengue fever. We both caught this mosquito-born virus, unfortunately; Sharon was laid out for most of the Anse Rouge trip (in her jeans on one of those little mats) and I got hit the day after Christmas. In some ways it's similar to the flu, with aches and pains, nausea, fever - and a crazy full-body rash, and apparently it causes depression too. (So if we sound a little down it's just the dengue talking).
7. Dominican Republic (Dec. 29th-Jan. 3). A short 8-hour bus trip brings us to the land of milk-and-honey. Paved roads! Electricity! Indoor plumbing! A bus system! You get the idea. (Check out the Depps' blog for more photos.)
8. Relaxing on the beach, 0n the north coast of the D.R. for New Year's Eve.
9. We headed back to Port before we going home for a meeting on Monday morning, but while there we got to meet the newest member of the MCC team: Josh and Marylynn's new son, Hayden Jwasiys. (Jwasiys is a Creole name that means "little Josh" - and our Haitian coworkers think it's hilarious he's named that. Apparently it's a name common with country folk.) We also met up with someone from our home congregation (Frazer Mennonite) to chat and pick up our new laptop (yay!). Grabbed some groceries that we can't find in Desarmes (cheese).
10. Jan 5th, 8:30 am meeting to select candidates to interview for new position in the reforestation program (we intend to hire a woman, which will be great for the team!). Check to see if garden is still alive. It is. Our helper-kid actually put in an entire crop of beans on our roof. Thanks, Jides!
11. Braved the market to restock our kitchen, where we learn that a nationwide gas shortage means no eggs for us. (We're not yet sure why there's a shortage: anybody know?) Hopefully this shortage doesn't last too long, as our boss reminded us that people have little patience for higher prices and lack of transportation, especially when food prices are already high and there is not much transportation infrastructure to begin with.
12. Today, Jan 7th, 2009. Internet catch-up, e-mails, blog to post and some quality time with our friend Google.
The End.
1. Pastor's conference on Dec. 12-13th, hosting 3 people who were leading discussions on the connection between the church and the environment (at least that's what we asked them to do, although the only part of the conversation we could follow was about how the church could make money) with about 15 pastors who came each day at 8am and finished around 3pm.
2. Teacher's training from Dec. 15 - 20th. We hosted four teachers from La Gonave who came to do a fòmasyon in teaching methods and theory. About 20 teachers came each day around 8am and left around 2pm.
3. Teacher's training and excursion to Anse Rouge (Dec. 22 - 24th). We stuffed the aforementioned teachers, 2 partners, and 6 MCC workers (22 people total) into our Toyota Landcruiser and Hilux pickup and drove 4 hours through hurricane-damaged Gonaives and into a super-dry deserty part of the country for three days of training with the folks at AMURT. I was most interested in their salt-making projects using seawater.
 |
| From Haiti.Dom.Rep.until.Jan.2009 |
The teachers putting a Bible verse in the correct order.
 |
| From Haiti.Dom.Rep.until.Jan.2009 |
Fritzner who is a pretty cheerful guy, but also a heavy thinker at times - on this trip we learned he preaches once every month in his church.
 |
| From Haiti.Dom.Rep.until.Jan.2009 |
This is Naomi, one of the members of MCC's environmental education team: she always seems to be thinking more than what she says.
 |
| From Haiti.Dom.Rep.until.Jan.2009 |
Our big stack of sleeping pads in the barn-turned-guesthouse in Anse Rouge. Fortunately these were provided, although Sharon and I missed the notice to bring linens and ended up sleeping in our jeans...
4. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. We returned from Anse Rouge in time to make it to the Christmas Eve service at our local Catholic church, which ended around 10pm. Normally that's not too bad, but after driving for 4+ hours over the worst roads in the Caribbean, I was a bit beat.
5. Christmas Day. Got up early to drive into Port-au-Prince to celebrate Christmas with our friends there. Christmas finally arrived!
6. Deal with a case of dengue fever. We both caught this mosquito-born virus, unfortunately; Sharon was laid out for most of the Anse Rouge trip (in her jeans on one of those little mats) and I got hit the day after Christmas. In some ways it's similar to the flu, with aches and pains, nausea, fever - and a crazy full-body rash, and apparently it causes depression too. (So if we sound a little down it's just the dengue talking).
7. Dominican Republic (Dec. 29th-Jan. 3). A short 8-hour bus trip brings us to the land of milk-and-honey. Paved roads! Electricity! Indoor plumbing! A bus system! You get the idea. (Check out the Depps' blog for more photos.)
 |
| From Haiti.Dom.Rep.until.Jan.2009 |
Outside of a church in Santo Domingo.
 |
| From Haiti.Dom.Rep.Dec.Jan.2009 |
Alms for the poor.
8. Relaxing on the beach, 0n the north coast of the D.R. for New Year's Eve.
 |
| From Haiti.Dom.Rep.until.Jan.2009 |
Sunset on the beach on New Year's Day.
9. We headed back to Port before we going home for a meeting on Monday morning, but while there we got to meet the newest member of the MCC team: Josh and Marylynn's new son, Hayden Jwasiys. (Jwasiys is a Creole name that means "little Josh" - and our Haitian coworkers think it's hilarious he's named that. Apparently it's a name common with country folk.) We also met up with someone from our home congregation (Frazer Mennonite) to chat and pick up our new laptop (yay!). Grabbed some groceries that we can't find in Desarmes (cheese).
10. Jan 5th, 8:30 am meeting to select candidates to interview for new position in the reforestation program (we intend to hire a woman, which will be great for the team!). Check to see if garden is still alive. It is. Our helper-kid actually put in an entire crop of beans on our roof. Thanks, Jides!
11. Braved the market to restock our kitchen, where we learn that a nationwide gas shortage means no eggs for us. (We're not yet sure why there's a shortage: anybody know?) Hopefully this shortage doesn't last too long, as our boss reminded us that people have little patience for higher prices and lack of transportation, especially when food prices are already high and there is not much transportation infrastructure to begin with.
12. Today, Jan 7th, 2009. Internet catch-up, e-mails, blog to post and some quality time with our friend Google.
The End.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
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!
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!
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
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
