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.

The characters

I want you to meet the cast of the show at MamaBabyHaiti. They are a truly awesome group of people, generous with their talents and time and lives.

First, the two young naturopathic doctors whose responsibility is the day-to-day running of the clinic and all of the logistics thus entailed. 

Lovely readers, I give you Sean and Sarah Hesler. 

The Heslers just graduated from medical school and are already out in the world, living their humanitarian philosophy. I am constantly awed by their commitment to provide compassionate medical care for the villagers of Moun Rouge. Sean has magic chiropractic fingers and is generous with his gift. Sarah just had her 27th birthday and bears her complicated responsibilities with grace. They have a vision for this job that goes way beyond childbirth and health clinics.

Next in the cast of alliterative couples is Misty and Martin. Misty is a student midwife and Martin is the chief handyman. I wish I had gotten a photo of Martin wielding his drill with the masonry bit, it was an impressive sight! Their stay in Haiti is more short-term but they have a long-term plan to return. I love these two and would adopt them as my own, except for the fact that they already have several parental types in their lives! Theirs is a calm presence and their firm Christian beliefs are a joy to behold. Two more people who are following God's plan for their lives.

Charles-Marie (pronounced Sharl-Marie) is a Haitian midwife who recently graduated from a school in Haiti. She has been hired on a trial basis by MBH and all of us hope it will be an amicable and long-term relationship. Charles-Marie speaks little English but she is affable and hard-working. She works at MBH in order to support her children, whom she is only able to visit once a month. She will be a boon to the work.

Zeenia is a schoolfriend of the Heslers and also recently graduated from medical school. She is in Haiti for three months, working on the medical end of things. Zeenia is unwaveringly upbeat and has an enthusiasm for life and work that is contagious. 

Santo is our translator. He was at school in Port-au-Prince when the earthquake disrupted his life. Santo took over the role of provider for his family when his Dad died and he supports his Mom and siblings with his earnings at MBH. School in Haiti is not free, so many people are illiterate. Santo longs to get back to school so that he can better his position in life. He speaks Creole, French, Spanish, and English. 

This is Edie, a midwife from North Carolina, formerly from Wis-cahn-son, who is at MBH for three months. I really like Edie. She is fearless and committed to providing good maternity care for the mamas of Haiti, yet humble enough to let the other midwives make decisions and get the experience that they need. She is also a wife, mom, and grandma, who has left that all behind for a season to do this work. 

Add to these people the three of us who traveled over together, a handful of Haitian employees who do the cooking and cleaning and other tasks necessary to keeping a small community working smoothly, and you have a complete cast of characters. 

I miss them already.

The location

I thought you would better understand my experience here if I first showed you my surroundings.
This is the house in which MamaBabyHaiti resides. It's a rather grand afffair, by Haitian standards, and is surrounded by similar houses, only most of them stand uninhabited and in various states of construction. One gets the feeling that they have been that way for some time and will remain so for some time to come. This house is not owned by MBH, but was renovated by them to its present state.
Remember, you can always click on the photos to enlarge.

This is the post-partum recovery room on the ground floor.  

Our drinking water. We have been without a car all week (one of those long, frustrating yet hilarious Haitian stories) so collecting new bottles involves a motorbike and good balance.

The swimming pool.
Don't ask.
But remember this for later.

Banana trees in the garden. Haitian bananas are quite delicious, even when they are in a state of what I would normally consider over-ripeness.

Bins of supplies, some of which were donated by you, my lovely readers.

Shelves filled with natural and pharmaceutical remedies.

A corner of the garden and the big old wall that separates us from the rest of the world. We have been outside a couple of times this week, but our experience has been mostly inside this compound.

We are surrounded by concrete. This wall around one of the upstairs patios cracks me up, because it looks like nicely turned wood. It is, in fact, concrete. We see the vertical supports for sale along the roads. They are sold in two sections and then cemented together on site.

Ah yes.

This is the room where we lie awake at night, listening to cows mooing, dogs barking, roosters crowing, and the frog in the pool bellowing.

Yes.

I said bellowing.

I have named him "Satan" for good reason.

The sitting room, where we talk at night by the light of a flashlight or hit the computers every time the power comes on.

Like now.

It's 2:30 a.m. and I'm going to bed.

Lisa and I are heading to the Dominican Republic (henceforth refered to as "the DR") in the morning. Hopefully we can find wi-fi when we get to Santa Domingo and the story will continue.

The beginning

Can I just say that the internet in Haiti is an interesting experience?

First, you have to catch it when the electricity is on, which is only at random times each day.

If you're lucky.

It is also very slow.

So here we go!

The trip to Haiti is convoluted and full of opportunities for error. I spent Friday on planes and in airports. My life that day seemed to run in three-hour increments. It started with an early rising, 4am, and meeting my fellow traveler, Ashlin, at PDX. The first leg, to Chicago, I was squished between an elderly couple. His wife spent some time running through the litany of dear husband's ailments and surgeries. I can't recall all of them, but there were four hip replacements, five hernias, cancer, Coumadin and Crestor and so many others that I was surprised he was still kicking. I almost forgave him for the coffee breath he wafted in my face every time he turned to look out the window.

The flight from Chicago to Long Island was delayed. When we finally boarded, I sank into the front window seat with relief. Handsome young thing in the aisle seat and I exchanged triumphant sidelong glances as the last passenger boarded without usurping our middle seat. Too soon, it turned out. A chic young lady dashed on at the last minute and asked, Is it okay if I sit there? Our sidelong glance was disappointed. CYT proceeded to fall asleep on my shoulder. When she awoke, very embarrassed, she confessed that she had imbibed a couple of beers while waiting for the flight. She then plugged in her iPod and sang out loud for the rest of the flight.

Which was kind of like sitting next to myself.

Only more annoying.

The rest of the trip to Fort Lauderdale was fairly uneventful. We found a nice Haitian porter to load up our six humongous bags and bins and caught the shuttle to our hotel. Our driver was also Haitian. Apparently, there is no lack of Haitians in Florida. We did our fair share in supporting Haiti's economy right there in FL. Tips rule! Lisa was waiting for us at the hotel. By the time we arrived it was 11pm and we had to be up again at 3am.

Good times.

After about one hour of sleep (note to Lisa: I do not snore. You heard yourself, ina dream!) and a nice hot shower, we went back to the airport with our (now) seven humongous bags and bins and various carry-ons and accoutrements. Check-in was very unique. No security on this one. Baggage overages cost around $500. MamaBabyHaiti sent lots of supplies with us, as it is the most efficient way of getting them there.

So, here we are.

Me, looking decidedly worse for wear.

And feeling it, let me tell you.

Lisa, my intrepid world traveler friend. 

Ashlin, a young thing with a big vision. 

And the mighty propeller, of which there were two. And I'm happy to report that they kept spinning all the way to Haiti! 

The airport at Cap Haitien is not a place that I would recommend arriving alone, or without people to meet you. The porters are crazily aggressive and demand their five pounds of flesh. Our people shepherded us to the waiting car and we got out of there without too much damage. Driving through the city was an adventure in itself. Roads are full of potholes, often just mud and rocks. People just hang out on the sides of the roads, watching as you drive past. Motorbikes, spewing fumes, and taptaps, the ubiquitous pickups crammed full of people, are the main sources of transportation.

I cannot say that Haiti is a joyful place. The glances that followed us were not friendly or even curious. I sense a lack of purpose, of any kind of thought for what happens beyond this moment in time. Cap Haitien itself is dirty and smelly and I can't imagine living in such a place. It is the second largest city in Haiti, but does not look very big from the air. There are no street signs and every road looks the same, differing only in the degradation of the surface.

We are in the village of Morne Rouge, which is green and tropical and has a certain beauty, if you can get past the cement and trash and the knowledge of the poverty and lack of enlightenment that hides behind every wall. The problems on this island are so immense and so ingrained into the psyche of its people that it boggles the mind. I've been reading everything I can get my hands on about Haiti. Knowing the history does lend some measure of understanding of the Haitians' plight, but it does not offer an easy solution.

I need to go to bed. Hopefully, tomorrow we will have electricity again and I can introduce you to the amazingly wonderful people who are manning this birth centre. Till then, nighty night, and say a "thank you" tonight for your clean water and your 24-hour-a-day electricity and all of the other trappings of civilization.