Haiti: June 17, 2009 -- Maya's 12th Birthday

I felt it was auspicious to see this lottery ticket booth named Maya Loto, featuring a cute girl with lots of hair.

Today would have been my daughter Maya's 12th birthday, so appropriately we struck out on an adventure in her honor.

This was my third trip to Haiti. Every time I've suggested we visit Duval, the mountain village where Andre grew up with his grandparents. And every time, Andre answered that it's too difficult to get there. Most of the locals take tap-taps (small pick-ups crammed with passengers) to a junction on the main road before Kenscoff, then walk two hours over a rocky road.

When Andre's teenage cousin Ricardo set out to make the journey home to Duval I suggested we accompany him, but Andre insisted we couldn't do it. He has no idea how I've traveled in the past. I've survived 30-hour bus rides, ridden on the rooftop of buses, rode an elephant for four hours on a wooden saddle that pinched my butt, hitch-hiked from Gaza Strip to Tel Aviv, crossed illegally by canoe into Colombia from Panama, packed in with Coca-Cola bottles, rode on top of bloody sacks of butchered meat in the Andes, braved a military coupe in Cairo to put my Oma on a train to visit the pyramids, rode in an ancient Russian plane that looked like it should have been retired decades ago, took the world's slowest train in Guatemala for 23 hours with no lights after dark, packed into the Mexico City metro so tight that I couldn't move my hands to defend myself against gropers, entered Burma illegally by boat by bribing guerilla soldiers, etc. etc. etc.

As a compromise, I agreed to rent a 4-wheel-drive truck to make the journey. I almost backed out when I found out that the truck costs $135 a day. But in the end, I had to do it -- for Maya's sake. I always spent way too much money on her birthdays. Why should this year be any different?

Andre's stepdad Mathieu who grew up in Duval came along as our guide, plus Andre's brother Johnny and cousin Sherley. They were all impressed that I could drive. And driving in Haiti is not like driving in the U.S. Between the kamakazes and the rough roads, you have to keep both eyes open at all times.

Actually, it was fun to have the truck because I got to play taxi. A couple of school kids flagged us down on the main road. By the time I stopped, dozens hopped in for the free ride. Each kid took turns knocking on the cab to signal for me to stop. At least they were sweet enough to come up to the window and say "merci" for the ride.

Nice views all along the mountain route to Duval.

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We picked up lots of school kids along the way. That's Andre's brother Johnny, the police man, who came along as our bodyguard (haha)


Andre asked me to pull over so he could buy his favorite bread. For me, it was kind of hard and dry, but the cinnamon stick gave it a nice flavor. Andre admitted that he too would hitch a ride to school, then spend his bus fare on snacks, like this bread.


Mathieu suggested we stop for lunch at Mission Bautiste, our last chance to buy anything. I liked their gift shop too. I picked up a "Bib La" in Creole, as well as some hand-painted tap-tap refrigerator magnets, post cards, and a colorful hand-painted metal toilet paper holder for my back bathroom. The gift shop and cafe were filled with young American missionaries. The cafe featured American-style fast food, which was a treat for everyone except me. The best part was the incredible view of the green terraced mountains.

We also visited a small museum and zoo at the mission. I enjoyed the museum a lot, but the zoo was a little sad. Only the rabbits and guinea pigs (another reminder of Maya) looked happy and healthy. Andre suggested we build ourselves a vacation home in that village in the future. Not a bad idea.



This was obviously an old tourism poster of the Citadelle which we visited in Feb. 2008. Since all the military coupes the number of foreign tourists in Haiti has gone down to almost zero. Most foreigners in the country are missionaries, UN soldiers, US and Canadian embassy employees, and charity workers.


The original inhabitants of the island of Hispaniola (today shared by Dominican Republic and Haiti) were called Tainos. The Spanish managed to kill off nearly all of them.



The museum featured lots of nice folk art, historic documents and photos, archaeological artifacts, etc. Check out the tap-tap below:

This toy helicopter commemorates the 1997 invasion of the American Marines, ordered by President Clinton. For many Haitians, the Marines were seen as heroes and saviors. Today Clinton has returned to Haiti as an ambassador.


Voodoo is a popular religion in Haiti, with deep African roots. Andre's family is Christian, so they don't practice voodoo.



It was appropriate on Maya's birthday to see some guinea pigs. She used to have three of them. Her favorite was named Kiara. I had guinea pigs as a child too.


We all piled back into the truck and headed up the road. Once we turned off onto the rocky, muddy road, I was happy to have the 4-wheel-drive. I learned that besides walking to Duval you can also take a motorcycle taxi, driven by teenage boys. That would have been fun. We helped some old ladies with the heavy loads they carry on their heads. Finally, we reached a point where even our monster truck could go no farther, so we got to walk a big loop through village houses. I had bought six-dozen children's toothbrushes at a discount from my dentist ahead of time, so I had fun giving those away to all the kids we passed. They were very grateful.


Here's Andre passing out some of the 6-dozen children's toothbrushes we brought along to give away.


The view of a church in neighboring village Griffith. We parked the truck just beyond the church and walked the rest of the way. This is where Andre used to attend primary school.


Duval-grown coffee, used as medicine as well as a hot drink.


Duval is a mountain paradise -- cool, fresh air, rich fertile soil, with awesome views of Port-au-Prince and the Caribbean Sea. They grow a variety of crops, mostly for their own use: bananas, corn, mangos, cabbage, tomatoes, chives, coffee. But fewer people live there now than when Andre was growing up in the late 1970s and 1980s.


Here's Andre's stepfather Mathieu, posing in front of the stone house he grew up in.


Here's one of Mathieu's sisters-in-law.


Andre, me, and Matheiu on the land where Matheiu grew up in Duval village.



We stopped in to visit one of Mathieu's relatives named Constance. He asked who I was and Mathieu answered that I was Andre's "madame." They spoke in Creole, of course, but now I can understand more than before.


Johnny with Contance's "madame."

We stopped in and visited a few of Mathieu's relatives before eventually reaching Andre's grandpa's land. The only family living there now is Ricardo's mother, grandma and siblings. His father, Andre's favorite uncle, had been brutally murdered over the inheritance when Andre's grandpa died. His widow and her mother are raising the four kids, two of whom live with Andre's mom in Port-au-Prince during the school year. When Andre was growing up, there was a one-room school house about 20 minutes away by foot. Now the primary school kids go to a bigger school much farther away, but they still have to walk. But there's no high school in the villages.


Andre's aunt and her kids still live on the grandfather's land in Duval.



The view from Andre's grandfather's property. The original house no longer exists. You can't see it in this picture, but that's Port-au-Prince, the capitol of Haiti, below, and the Caribbean Sea beyond.


Everyone in the village remembers Andre even though he hadn't been back in 7 years. This young woman below was just a child when Andre was living in Duval. Now she has two kids of her own.



I could tell right away that this man, Daniel, is Mathieu's brother, and father of Andre's cousin Peter who I met in Santo Domingo.


The afternoon thunderstorms almost caught us, but we reached our truck just in time. I had to admit that, despite the inflated price, the truck was a good idea.

Haiti: June 16, 2009

Not much new to report for this day. Mostly we hung out at the pool, caught up on the internet, enjoyed his mother's cooking, more of the same. Waiting around the house in the evening in the dark, hoping the electricity will come on for a few hours. Some days we get a lot of electricity. Other days none at all. That's why it's pointless to have a refrigerator, or internet connection at home. And when the power's out, the whole neighborhood is black. It's a bit tricky to negotiate the uneven climb up and down to his folks' house, so it's better just to stay inside.

By the light of a kerosene lamp, I read a book called "Left To Tell," a griping first-person story by Immaculée Ilibagiza who survived the Rwanda genocide in 1994 by cramming into a priest's tiny bathroom with 7 other women. He hid the entrance with a wardrobe cabinet. They were given a plate of table scraps so no one else in his family would suspect he was hiding Tsutsi refugees. They estimate that a million Tutsis were massacred in 100 days.


Here's a view from the top balcony of the Villa Imperial Hotel. You can see Andre swimming across the pool. Most days we have the whole pool to ourselves. We made friends with a brother and sister whose parents are Haitian, but they were born in the U.S. and live in Philadelphia. The older son understands Creole, but it seems like his little sister doesn't. They're 100% Americans.

Here's Andre at the entrance to his mom's neighborhood. Most of these first houses belong to relatives. Even when we can't reach his family by phone, we can usually find a cousin nearby who can take their cell phone over to his mom, grandma or a sibling.

Haiti: June 15, 2009

Each time we go to swim at the Hotel Villa Imperial we try to invite another friend or family member. This day we took Andre's younger brother Reginald. Like many Haitians, he doesn't know how to swim, but at least he wasn't afraid of the water. The two guys in the Andy Warhold-style photo (below right) are the DJs at the poolside who keep the Haitian music blasting.

A couple of notes on life in Haiti: Most of the cooking is done with charcoal, which explains the 95% deforestation of the country. On the Dominican Republic side of the island, they cook with propane gas, but that's more expensive, so the Haitians still use charcoal. Also, most of the water is brought up from wells. Many of the houses, such as Andre's family's house, has American style plumbing, with a water tank on the roof. But the problem is there's not enough energy to pump the water up to the rooftop. I'm not really sure why they couldn't collect rainwater since we've been getting a good downpour almost every day that we've been here, usually in the late afternoon. Solar energy would also be a great idea, if the panels weren't so expensive.

Andre's brother Johnny is a police officer and has a decent salary, so he was able to buy a car since we were last here. But since all automobiles have to be imported from the U.S. at great expense, not to mention the import tax, even an old junker is prohibitively expensive. And gasoline is even more expensive than in the U.S.


Meanwhile, back at home, the family photo album continues to grow. Here are Andre's brother Reginald with nephew Joel. Joel again, with cousin Joanne.

Both old and young enjoy posing for the camera. I'm pictured here with some of the many female cousins who live next door to Andre's folks.


Cousin Sherly and I are in contact via email. Andre's godson Gregory is one of Sherly's many siblings, pictured here with a sister. The Haitians like to imitate the American rap stars by pretending to flash gang signs. But it doesn't mean anything here.

Haiti: June 14, 2009

Andre introduced me to a Haitian rara music group called Ram. It's led by Richard Morse, who on first glance, doesn't look Haitian, but he comes by his talent naturally from his mother Emerante de Pradine. She was the first recording artist of Haitian voodoo music (rara). Richard also manages the historic and infamous Grand Hotel Oloffson overlooking downtown Port-au-Prince where his band performs every Thursday. Unfortunately, we were planning to be out of town on that day.

Andre's brother Johnny drove us in his car to check out the Oloffson Hotel. We were lucky to find both Richard and his mother Emerante there. He even posed with all of us, along with our friend "Coach", for photos. Their English reflects both of their U.S. ivy league educations.


Andre's family is Christian, so they don't practice voodoo, but many Haitians do. The Oloffson Hotel is filled with beautiful and interesting voodoo art and statues. It was also the setting for Graham Greene's novel "The Comedians." Many international journalists, dignitaries, eccentrics and world travelers have stayed at the hotel.


I used the wi-fi while we sipped our delicious mango and lime drinks. I checked the AA Baggage status to find out that our bags had finally arrived. Johnny drove us through downtown Port-au-Prince to recover them. I like this part of the city the best, with its National Palace, museums, parks and plazas, statues, and older colonial architecture.




You can see the main cathedral peeking above the street scene (below left). Motorcycle taxis wait for new customers (below right).



When we got home, Andre's Aunt Miche had made her famous Soup JouMou which has pasta noodles, potatoes, beef, and tomatoes, plus other ingredients. Very tasty.



Andre and I are the family photographers whenever we visit. Here he is with his aunt Rosita on the left. That's his cousins Joanne and Sherly on the right. And the bottom shot is his sister Marjorie.

Haiti: June 13, 2009

This is not a political blog, but I have to admit how happy I was to see this huge painting of our new president Barack Obama in the Villa Imperial Hotel in Port-au-Prince. I don't remember seeing any paintings of George W. Bush on my earlier trips to Haiti. The hotel is a 5-minute walk from Andre's parents' house where we're staying. For $5 a day we use the pool, electricity, and wi-fi. We also admired other paintings in the hotel restaurant. We're still hoping to buy some Haitian art while we're here, but it's hard to know where to buy it directly from the artists. Mostly, it's sold by vendors on the streets.


The photo on the right shows our first breakfast in Haiti, prepared by his mother Maude, a fabulous cook. As you can see, there are more than one kind of cooking plantains here. It's also mango season, so Andre's in heaven. I miss the sweet potatoes and eggplant dishes Maude made before, but they're out of season.


Here I am with my mother-in-law Maude. She and her mother (pictured with Andre) are the sweetest people you'll ever meet. I feel guilty because Maude waits on us hand and foot, preparing all the food and hand-washing our clothes. I asked Andre to assure her I'm not this useless at home, but I'm not really sure how to help out here. At least I can see how much she enjoys having her first-born son at home for a 12-day visit.

Andre's sister Majorie gave birth to Lyse-Mia on May 1, 2009. Now 2-year-old Joel has a baby sister. Andre is her godfather, so we've been planning a big family party for about 75 guests on June 21. We had hoped to baptize her that day, but there are elections in Haiti that day, so the priest couldn't do it until the following weekend. Proud father Lesly holds Lyse-Mia.




Andre's sister Beatrice on the left is a teaching assistant. On the right, Andre poses with his friend Louanes ("Coach") and brother Johnny who is a police officer.



Andre has lots of cousins. It seems like we spent the first three days just making the rounds and saying hi to everyone. At first when we were planning the party, Andre and Lesly thought we would only invite about 50 people. I warned them that there were easily that many just in the neighborhood. Sure enough, I was right. And that wasn't even counting Lesly's side of the family or the relatives who live in other neighborhoods of Port-au-Prince.

Getting Ready for our Big Trip to Haiti Tomorrow

Tomorrow at noon Andre and I will be heading to the San Francisco airport to begin our long journey to Haiti. Three planes and 24 hours later we will arrive at Port-au-Prince with our four 50-pound suitcases, two 40-pound carry-on bags, and two day packs. Altogether, our free legal baggage limit is equal to 300 pounds -- just about what Andre and I weigh together. It's like having two stowaways with us. Luckily, 99% of it will stay in Haiti. I plan to come back with my laptop, cameras, and the clothes on my back. The rest are gifts of clothes, electronic items, and household goods.

I've also been studying up on my Creole (Kreyol). It's a wonderful phonetic language, which blends French, Spanish, English and African languages. I have some oral lessons by Pimsleur in my MacBook also. The basic vocabulary is pretty simple, with very little grammar, so you can start building sentences easily, kind of like "Me Tarzan, You Jane." But don't be fooled by Creole's limited vocabulary. It's a rich and expressive language. Many times when I ask Andre for a translation of something he tells me you have to be Haitian to understand.

This is our third trip to Haiti together -- our first time as a married couple and the first time that we'll be speaking to each other in English instead of Spanish. Andre told me that some people thought I was really Dominican, not American, since we spoke to each other in Spanish. Now they'll know the truth since Andre's English has gotten so good. He may even speak better English than his former teacher in Haiti does -- thanks to his wonderful ESL teachers Lori and Peggy here in Santa Cruz. Today is his last day at Adult School. He's hoping to start at Cabrillo Community College in the fall.

We've been stuffing our suitcases and stepping on the scale for a week now. Every time we find something else we want to take, something else has to be removed. It's not fun, but hardly worth $50 just to take an extra 20 pounds when we can take 300 pounds for free. We'll feel like Santa and Mrs. Claus when we get there and start handing out gifts. I'd like to buy some Haitian art while we're there and see how I do with it on eBay. Maybe we could have a little import/export business to help pay for future trips to Haiti. Simple things like shampoos that cost $1 at Longs sell for $7 or $8 in Haiti. Practically everything is imported and expensive there, even though the people are so poor.

Well, I'm off to swim. Andre gets home from school at 1:00 and we still have things to do before our blast-off tomorrow. Hopefully next time I'll have more time to teach you some Creole.