Are you Haiti-ed out yet?

Lisa and I spent the next couple of days digging in the garden and varnishing beds in the clinic. We were looking forward to Wednesday, when we headed back to the Baptist church for a health clinic. MBH mostly treats women and children, although they do treat a few men.

We started out in the cooler hours of the morning.

Misty and Martin stayed back at the clinic, in case anyone needed help while we were gone.

I was carrying the little bottles of naturopathic remedies.

They are heavier than they look.

Really, they are!

Lisa toted a roll of toilet paper and her water bottle.

Me, I had decided to hold it till we got back to the clinic.

Whatever "it" happened to be.

Trudge, trudge, trudge.

Still trudging....

...and admiring the very lovely funereal adornments on this building.

Some things just don't need translating, do they?

Finally, the cool shade of the church.

Sean is showing me how to take temperatures. 

Something about the temporal artery. 

(I had to look that up.)

So I took temperatures...

...while Lisa did blood pressures, which required considerably more talent.

Our awesome Doktes with Santo.

The translators, Lucien and Santo, worked as hard as anyone else.

I spent some time being the pharmacist at the table on the right, which made me feel very powerful.

I also checked the teeth of the children who were waiting to be seen. Children who had cavities scored a toothbrush and toothpaste. There was a startling correlation between cavities and lack of brushing. Big surprise there! It was a fun job, as some of the kids were reluctant to open their mouths for inspection and had to be cajoled. The moms finally got into it and were saying "brose, brose" (brush, brush) when I asked them if the kids brushed or not. 

One little boy took one look at me and started screaming. He was inconsolable. I felt a little better when he had the same reaction to the doctors.

Mission accomplished. 

I think we saw about thirty patients. 

Not bad for a morning's work.

My impressions of the day?

I love how the moms dress themselves and their children in their best clothes to see the doctors. It is reminiscent of a respect for themselves and the doctors that we don't see too much in American culture any more. 

The children, whether brought in by moms or grandmas, were obviously loved and cherished. 

They were often malnourished. 

Most of the children are given coffee to drink, which causes stomach aches and other problems. 

The doctors fight ignorance and superstition as much as illness. 

Many of the people waited for two or more hours, but the children sat quietly and no one got impatient or complained. It was an enjoyable and gratifying morning.

And the walk home was very hot.

Act II

Sunday:

We decided to join the clinic crew at the local Baptist church, where we would be conducting a health clinic on Wednesday. Here we are, walking along the main road from Cap Haitien through Morne Rouge. I think, if you followed the road all the way, you would end up in Port-au-Prince, but I could be wrong. The cars and trucks in Haiti all honk as they pass pedestrians. I think it's their way of being considerate. 

As in Move it, or I'll mow you down!

Our favourite Haitian pig, in his favourite grazing spot. Note the muddy patch he created to the left of the photo. Haitian pigs know how to have a good time! 

See, cows everywhere. 

It's very sweet how the people dress up in their finest clothes for church, just like we do at home. And some of their clothes were very fine indeed, especially the little girls. Satiny dresses and matching socks, hair impeccably braided and tied off with barrettes. Even though their homes are probably impoverished with dirt floors, they have pride in their appearances and show respect to their Lord. They also dress up for health clinics.

The sermon was amplified to an ear-splitting degree. There is nothing like a fiery Baptist sermon delivered in Creole. Lisa and I both commented afterwards how we noticed a rhythm and melody to his speech. Check out the Christmas ornaments and flowers hanging from the ceiling. 

The gang, after the service. 

Me, with Santo, in front of a business. 

Love the murals on the storefronts. 

There was a birth clinic that had a sign out front showing a lady, lying on her back, with her feet up in stirrups. A little too descriptive, perhaps? Sadly, I missed the photo op. 

Rubbish, rubbish, everywhere. 

Pride in appearance does not extend to the neighbourhood. 

On our way home from church some locals asked the doctors to come and check out the new health clinic. It was owned, not surprisingly, by a Cuban. Many clinics in Haiti are owned by Cuban doctors. The problem for the people is not lack of clinics, it is being able to pay for the medical care, which is too expensive for people who don't have enough to eat. 

Inside the clinic. 

Tile set in concrete. A clever way to use up scraps of tile. 

Lori, take note of this. 

A cemetery, close to our clinic. 

I wanted to go in, because it looked well-kempt and interesting, but rumour has it that you have to be accompanied by the Haitian caretaker. Which probably means money. So I didn't. 

Home again, home again, jiggety jig. 

Washing drying on the hedge, a common practice.

Haitians are big on laundry, which is usually done by hand in a most scrupulous manner.

And then dried on the hedge. 

Mama and Baby in Haiti

MamaBabyHaiti has a grand vision. When I say "grand", I also mean "long". It involves birth, general health care, education, sanitation, and chickens! I strongly suggest you go here to read the official statement. It is a work in progress, in which I am proud to be able to participate.

On Saturday, our first day in Haiti, there was a woman downstairs in the birthing room. She laboured long and loud, until late in the evening. Consequently, we stayed up late too. When she delivered her little girl, we all gave a big sigh of relief, for her and ourselves!
We call it "birth by flashlight".

Two weeks ago, there were only about half-a-dozen prospective mamas on the rolls of the birth centre. Now there are almost ninety.
Wow.

It's very cute how Haitians dress their babies up so warmly and wrap them in a blanket, even though it is always hot in this country.

Mama and baby, with midwives Misty, Charles Marie, and Edie. 

Note the nice warm blanket, guaranteed to protect baby from any stray, balmy breeze.

A funny story.

Which illustrates the point that a little knowledge can be dangerous.

I asked Santo how to say "goodbye" in Creole.

He answered bon gason.

Strange, thinks I to myself, I thought "garcon" meant "boy" in French.

But I hoarded the little bit of Creole and practised it in my head.

As our new mama (I never did learn her name) left the clinic after her checkup on Monday, I called out to her "Bon gason!"

Charles Marie looked at me kinda funny and said, Fi.

Bon gason, I happily said back to her.

No, fi.

Bon gason!

Her last look was decidedly strange.

I gave up.

Later in the day, I said to Santo, I thought you told me that goodbye was bon gason?

It was his turn to look at me strangely.

No, it means "good boy". 

And something in the way he said it explained it all.

Somewhere between my accent and his, goodbye became good boy!

Act I

On our first night in Haiti, Saturday, we went for a walk to the top of a nearby hill. 

Here are some of the sights we saw.

Young men playing soccer in an empty lot. 

Well, this is what everyone else saw as we walked, I guess. 

The horse was an unusual sight. Dirt paths cross empty lots quite often, short cuts for the masses. 

 Not quite sure what this random treble clef was doing, painted on the side of the road.

Gates and doors in concrete walls. Everything is concrete and iron, as the country is fairly devoid of forests.

Cows are everywhere, in vacant lots, fields, back yards, tethered on the side of the road, munching on whatever vegetation they can find.  

We often meet heavy equipment on this road, as it passes a quarry. 

The ubiquitous concrete balustrades. 

This goat was leading her owner. Goats are everywhere too. 

The quarry. On another walk, later in the week, there was a woman bathing nude at the pool that lies at the base of the cliff. A strange thing to do, I thought, in a country where sexual predation is common. 

On top of the hill, which was a steep climb and left us rather breathless, is an open-air church. The view is breathtaking, but by the time we got there the light was dim. This little lizard was caught by my flash. They wave their tails back and forth like a dog. 

What can I say? 

We skedaddled home shortly, trying to beat the dark. 

And were treated to our first meal of rice and beans. 

The first of many.

The plot

I know you're all wondering what Lisa and I did for the week we spent at MBH. Mostly, we planted a garden. This patch was cleared of weeds shortly before we arrived and flower beds were dug and enriched with some mightily expensive topsoil. 

The climate and fertile soil of Haiti collaborate to make perfect growing conditions. The hope is that the ground surrounding the house and clinic can be planted intensively with vegetables and herbs to make a more sustainable lifestyle. We dug and raked and moved dirt and planted seeds for several hours each day, usually in the heat of the day because we had been morning slugs. 

Behold, freshly planted beds of greens, carrots, beans, beets, melons, garlic, and many other exotic delicacies. 

Shhh, want to know a secret?

There's a placenta in the middle of the melon mound.

We call them "placenta melons"!

What did you expect? This is a birth centre, people! 

Where nothing goes to waste.

We sang rounds as we worked and talked to the chickens...

...and hung out on the shady side of the garden for as long as we dared.

The weather is Haiti is not unbearably hot at this time of year, but it is humid. By the time we were done working, a nice long shower would have been deliciously soothing, but it was not to be. Some days we had to go to bed in our sweaty, smelly state. If we were lucky, the power might go on in the wee hours of the morning. In which case, there would be this gradual waking of the household, taking turns in the shower and then sitting together at our computers. You do what you've gotta do, when you can do it, in this neck of the woods!

The trees by the chicken coop are banana trees. They are grown in many gardens and also seem to grow in the wild. The flower, which hangs at the end of the bunch of fruit, is fascinating, like something out of a sci-fi movie.

The clinic and surrounding gardens and buildings are in a walled compound. This gate is the only entrance and is ably guarded by Jason and Lucien. We didn't go outside the gate very often, which can make for a bit of claustrophobia. Most nicer houses have gates like this, as you will see later.

The extras

This, my friends, is the chicken coop. 

This, the chickens.

We call them "dinner". 



They can be happily scratching around in the dirt at one o'clock and be deliciously served to hungry workers at the evening meal. 

Martin is the resident dispatcher of chickens. 

He is multi-talented. 

He observed, a couple of days before we left, that the chickens seemed happier since being in our coop. As opposed to wherever they lived before coming to live at MBH. 

Yes, I thought, that would be a good motto for us.  

Even the chickens are happier at MamaBabyHaiti.

Until, you know....they're not!

Here's a gratuitous photo of the gang eating breakfast. I know it's breakfast because we have fruit on the plate and it's daylight. Dinner is eaten in the dark, by the light of a flashlight.

Our cook is Lucien, a man of the world. Legend has it that he was cook to a Mafia don. He was deported back to Haiti when the don was arrested. 

Hope I got that right!

Here is Lucien, standing outside his house with Sean.

Lucien can work magic in the dark on a propane stove. Mange apwa (I'm spelling phonetically here) means good things to eat when Lucien is on chef duty. He's also the go-to guy when you have to deal with the locals. Need your car fixing, food buying, taxi hiring? Lucien's the man. He takes nonsense from no one.

He has a young wife and this little darling girl, Carjioly. 

Say "casually" with a French accent and you have it.

I made some finger Jello (a nifty trick without refrigeration) and Carjioly, after turning up her nose at the first taste, decided it was delicious. She licked it out of Sarah's palm!

This is Jason, who helps with the garden and other outside projects. He is faithfully weeding the garden that Lisa and I planted. He has two sons who also work in the garden and house. 

There you have it, the rest of our cast of characters.

Tomorrow, the plot thickens.

Sa bon.