Seven hours on a bus, with new video

Early Saturday morning we left MBH in a hired taptap. Taptaps are usually packed with people, as a fare is very cheap. I couldn't get past Martin's story of being squished inside a taptap with his face in the unshaved, smelly armpit of the woman next to him. So I didn't feel a bit guilty as people saw the deliciously empty taptap and tried to flag down the driver. Well, maybe a bit. The whole rich arrogant American thing, don't you know?

The bus trip was fairly uneventful. We were given breakfast about an hour into the ride. Pasta. With little shriveled bits of chicken (I think) and a good-sized dollop of ketchup on top.

Yum.

I ate about half of it, all the while ignoring the little voice in my head that was telling me to leave it alone.

I regretted it later, if you know what I mean!

Crossing the border was a hoot. The Dominicans are terrified of a cholera outbreak, so they make sure that precautions are taken at the cholera prevention station. We were all told to get off the bus and were directed to some outdoor sinks. We washed our hands, using communal bars of soap, and then we got back on the bus.
What?
That was wrong in so many ways!
Then we drove to the customs shed. Bags were duly inspected, interrupted for a few minutes while the customs official checked and answered some phone texts.
Ho hum.

And I will say nothing about trying to go to the toilet in the back of a speeding bus on rocky, winding roads. Or about the lack of tp provided in said facility. Lucky I had Kleenex, that's all I will say about that!

I made a little slideshow for you. I have so many photos, taken through the window of the moving bus, that I couldn't put them all into a post.
Here's the deal. The first video has my preferred music, the second has better picture quality. YouTube has copyright issues with my music.
So, first, mute the sound on the YouTube video. Unless you really like Mozart, in which case ignore the following.
2. Press play and then pause on the first video and let it fully load. This might take a few minutes, so go check your facebook page or something.
3. Then, press play on the first video and click the YouTube icon on the second one. Make sure the sound is still muted.
Take that, YouTube and Sony music!

Then, come take a little trip with me.

Hope you enjoy it.

A final errand

First of all, thank you to those of my readers who have left comments. I am mostly writing for my own satisfaction at this point, but comments are always encouraging.

Also, Lisa has written a thoughtful piece here, if you would like her perspective.

Friday was our last full day in Haiti. We wanted to finish up our garden and were hoping to take some supplies to a nearby orphanage. Unfortunately, we couldn't find out the location of the orphanage and we didn't have a car anyway, so we gave up on the idea.

I had also heard about seven orphans who were living with their grandma and had very little food. The doctors thought it would be okay if we gave her some money for food and a few supplies, but said we would need to be circumspect because if her neighbours found out about it they would also want money. So we sent Lucien to exchange some of our American dollars and later in the afternoon, a little contingent from MBH set off along the road.

This is a common sight, as are women carrying heavy loads on their heads. I didn't get any  photos of that because pointing the camera at such close range seemed to be a bit intrusive.

More heavy equipment, this time with a woman driving.

Little boys always want their photo taken.

Not sure what was being built here, but it's something big. 

Of course, it may not get finished for ten years!

Haitian beauty.

Here is the house, in a much poorer part of the village. It is tiny, about as big as our family room. I imagine that most of the children sleep outside. Notice the succulent hedge. Most houses that don't have walls around their property have these. In the Dominican Republic, they surrounded whole farms.

The dog and chicken looked pretty healthy. 

The baby was, however, malnourished.

Such a pretty rooster.

I haven't figured out how everyone keeps track of their chickens, because they wander freely.

The house is crudely constructed. I wonder how well it keeps out the omnipresent rain.

We gathered tightly around Grandma and the baby so that no one could see as we slipped her the money. We didn't give her any supplies because it was impossible to do so discreetly, so the doctors told her to come to the clinic next week.

It is a thorny issue in Haiti, deciding who to help, because almost everyone is in dire need of some kind of help. And then the aggressiveness of the people who see help being given and want it for themselves is kind of off-putting, even though I can understand why they are so. It also makes interacting with any Haitians quite tricky, because at some point they will always ask you for something. Then, you wonder to yourself, are they only (helping me with the garden, walking with me, talking to me, etc, etc) so that they can get something from me? And in most cases, I think the answer is yes. 

More on this topic later.

Some Haitians love to have their photos taken and others are adamantly against it.

Guess which category these fall into.

This and that on Thursday

Thursday morning brought a crowd of hopeful people to our gate. It was a health clinic morning, first-come-first-served, with only time for about 25 people. Our guys reported about 100 people in the road. Tempers flared when Jason handed out the numbers, with arguments over who was there first and lots of yelling at Jason and each other. 

The system needs some work.

Once things settled down, people began to file into the waiting area and peace reigned.

Lisa and I had promised to make dinner in the evening and had given Lucien our shopping list. Lisa's plan was lentil soup and salad, but Lucien couldn't find lentils so she settled for beans. I had asked him to buy butter, apples, and milk, but when I started to cook he was in town and I couldn't find any of the ingredients except three apples. So I made naan using milk powder and some nasty margarine of the type that does not need refrigeration. The plan for dessert was German Apple pancake, but that went out the window when, as usual, we were without power. Cooking is done on a propane stove by the light of headlamps. 

I have to make a few observations about the kitchen. 

There is no refrigerator, so perishables are stored in an ice chest that is slightly (understatement) scary.

Also, some items that we Americans think are perishable are, well, not. At least by Haitian standards.

There are ants everywhere.

Cupboards, sinks, and counters are in a state of dirtiness that goes way past my comfort level. It's better if you try not to think about it or you would never eat the finished products. I am still amazed that we were not all sick, all of the time.

Other than the fridge, the kitchen is fairly well equipped. Except that the dishwasher doesn't work and, oh yeah, there's never power to run the appliances!

Next, I got started on crepes, using powdered milk, which worked quite well. By the time Lucien returned I was ready to start on the caramel sauce and I was happy to be shown the box of shelf-stable milk. Still no butter though, or brown sugar. I threw a few desperate prayers into the universe and started caramelizing some sugar. 

The propane stove is not a delicate instrument and the first batch hardened and stuck to the pan. I salvaged what I could and started over in a new pan, adding some water this time. After the mixture turned golden I added some nasty margarine and milk and some rather strange vanilla and managed to pull off a pretty nice caramel sauce. I sliced bananas and apples into the sauce, placed them strategically in the crepes and voila! the first dessert seen in the MBH compound in a long time.

We used the bottled water for all drinking and cooking.  

Lisa was doing something weird with chicken stock in the blender, which I couldn't figure out because we didn't have power!

Sadly, we were all so busy lapping up the crepes that no one took photos.

But here is the main course.

Be impressed.

Be very impressed. 

Lisa and I make a pretty good team, which is slightly unlikely because we are both very opinionated and strong-willed. We managed to subjugate our natural inclinations for the entire trip and let our passion and zeal work in our favour.

Pretty awesome, huh?
Misty took great pleasure in laughing at our eccentric ways and said we were like an old married couple.
Whatever!

Some exciting news from Haiti.... 

...our seeds are sprouting!

More awesomeness.

It's funny, one of my friends told me I was a hoot in choir practice on Sunday and wanted to know if I was high on something. 

Truth be told, I have been inordinately happy since being in Haiti, none of the usual post-holiday blues.

I think this kind of thing agrees with me.

Somehow, I don't think Jeff's going to be too happy to know that.

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!