"It was two weeks ago this very day, on a day much like this day, and the murky skies spilt upon the valley ground a rain not uncommon for the season, for monsoons were predictable and the years of erosion made them painfully so, but this one was laden heavy with a sense of doom the youthful had in their life time never felt, or would again, a doom the wise knew and, staring upwards as if glaring into the very eyes of something crooked and muddled… and familiar, a doom they feared was now back."

I found this sorry excuse for writing in one of my folders while looking for some article I was sure I'd need for that thesis I was sure I was going to work on. Well, I didn't work on it, but the writing got me thinking. Reading back to myself something I had written on a rainy, and very unproductive day in Porte-au-Prince last summer, I'm actually pretty surprised I had even that much insight into the economic/environmental crisis that continues to cripple Haiti. I knew next to nothing about this country.

What I would later learn, after getting back to school and ordering every book I could find that dealt with the Political Economy of Haiti-all 3 of them- was Haiti's sensitivity to weather, to put it mildly. Because of unchecked deforestation in the region, which itself is something of a Rubrik's Cube of fun to try and understand, Haiti's mountainsides have been stripped of trees which anchor the topsoil to the bedrock below. If you know anything about avalanches, you know that most slides are caused by some shift between two layers of snow that have different densities, weights, and so forth...it's science. Well, in cases of deforestation along hillsides, the topsoil "shifts" off the bedrock below when it rains, effectively causing mudslides, flooding, and usually thousands of deaths. Moreover, all of the nutrients have washed away and the fertility of the land takes a nose dive. This seems much less severe than "thousands of deaths", but in truth, the lowered productivity of the soil only leads to more deforestation, and thus more cataclysm (it's all part fo that Rubrik's Cube I mentioned). To touch on it a bit, deforestation here is caused by food insecurity and a steady charcoal industry, and when productivity falls, one option is to cut down more trees for more land, continuing a cycle of poverty and disaster.

So it's been raining pretty steadily for the last few weeks, every evening for about an hour or so, and it cools the air a bit and the sound lulls me to sleep like a warm glass of milk and honey. In July and August-the hurricane season- the valleys are going to flood again, goats and chickens will be washed away, and people will die. Many people don't know that in 2004, a year before Hurricane Katrina made landfall and killed some 1500-2000 in New Orleans, Tropical Storm Jeanne brushed passed Haiti and killed 3,000; 2,800 in the city of Gonaives alone. At least I'm in the mountains.

"... a doom the wise knew and, staring upwards as if glaring into the very eyes of something crooked and muddled… and familiar, a doom they feared was now back.

Sidenote: I'm going to start writing happier things, I promise:P

Genyen yon sourit nan chanm mwen, Li anba biwo a. So, I've been able to fashion some pretty elaborate sentences in Creole recently. Lot's of down time can do that. Unfortunately the phrase above means "There is a mouse in my room, it's under the desk." The sisters here were excited at my improvement, and I think a little at the mental image of me sitting on the edge of my bed starring at my desk with a mango in one hand and a sandal in the other.

Life in Fondwa, as in most poor, rural villages, is slow and calm. Drama rarely mares the lives of these people, but when it does its of a more intense, mortal nature. The other night a woman was giving birth right next door to my room. When I finally stopped hearing the contractions I went over to see what had happened. I already knew, though, because of what I didn't hear, namely, the baby crying. The mother had very high blood pressure, and combined with her not knowing how to push, and a fragile health herself, it was clear that one wasn't going to make it.

The other drama is, ofcourse, the insecurity of food. There is no guarantee, no welfare state, no savings accounts for many families. Their security lies in their assets, the few chickens, goats, and pigs that they have. But this is all they know, so outside of the rainy season, or the occasional death, life is constant. Impoverished, but constantly so.

A small sidenote: Be careful when you tell your hosts that you really like the food your eating. You may be eating it for the next few days. Bless their hearts.

So, I'm almost a week into my two month post here and have actually made some headway with regards to my actual work here (I'll get into that in a second), and learning Creole. The sisters here at the convent/health clinic have been my saving grace, not surprisingly. You see, I'm living about 1 hour away from the University of Fondwa (I use that term loosely) and anybody else I would ever need to actually speak with for this project. It's also a 1 hour hike, uphill. So naturally I haven't been in too frequent contact with the students and other community leaders, unless they work for APf and happen to also be right next door, which some are.

A few days ago I made the trek up to town by myself. Passing the school children, I noticed that they take much smaller steps and do zig-zags all the way down and up the road, which itself winds in and around steep plots of farm land. I thought that was pretty neat, but I'm also very stubborn and just did the whole climb head on. Anyway, I met with most of the university students and had a chance before our actual meeting to just sit and chat. Most spoke French, and some even spoke Spanish. They'd explained to me that they'd had the pleasure of hosting professors from Cuba, France, Canada, and the US in the past. So we talked. We talked about futbol, about how Argentina is better than Brazil, about the upcoming World Cup, about women, about why I'm still single, and we drank a few beers in the process. All in all, I loved it. Laughing in any culture cuts tension like a hot knife through butter.

The actual meeting itelf was between myself and the interim president of the university and its director. The director is a larger man, and looks more Dominican than Haitian. In fact, he'd studied in Puerto Rico and Kansas for Agronomy, so we could communicate without much of a problem. The actual discussion, though, was tough.

You see, development from the perspective of the developing world is much different than development as implemented through the occidental powers. So, when they started talking about what their concerns were, I knew immediately where they were going. They figured us for a group of students who wanted to go to Haiti and help the poor, lolely Haitians plant trees and feel good about it. Essentially, the White Man's Burden in a nutshell. This idea of top-down, one-way development has a long history in which the US has played a central role, so I didn't blame them. I explained that we wanted to sit and discuss development in Fondwa with the students and come up with a comprehensive plan through which we can, together, impelement sustainable projects that will help develop the region.

So here I was, a graduate student, planning out a grandeous project with no actual assurance that anything was going to work. I have no idea if we'll have students next summer who want to come down to Haiti. I have no idea where we'll get the money. I don't even know what the next month is going to look like. But this was my job, to initiate the conversation and to start a relationship wherein we can have students from both countries leading development initiatives. The walk down was nice. Beer in hand, now flat and warm from the descent, I looked at the mountains all around me and felt a little more at ease.

Every evening I have dinner with the sisters. Two of them, Sister Judy and Sister Cathy are from the US, and its such a relief to have them there, both to help me in my Creole, but also just to talk. I'm alone here otherwise. I'm trying to keep myself busy, but I've never been one to spend long periods of time by myself in a foreign country. Last night I made a new friend, an 18 yr old student from the school nearby. We actually had a pretty long converstaion in Creole. It was raining and were standing under cover just outside my door. He wants to go to Cuba to learn to be a doctor and then come back here to help the poor. He also thinks Argetinian women are hot. The laughter helps the time go by.

Chappy and the nuns (or how to not pack for Haiti)

That's right folks, I'm living in what can best be described as a nunery. And its absolutely awesome! Ok, well its at least pretty cool, not many opportunities for getting myself into trouble, and they have beer. I arrived late last night after a 5 hour delay involving mechanical issues, lightening storms, irritated haitiens, and 100 or so pages of "The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test".



I half-listened to the emergency evacuation instructions, looking up casually every once and again to see a life vest, then going back down to the 6-month old National Geographic, thumbing through it for the third time since I'd bought it. It was the 'Best of Adventure '09' issue, and I read it half-believing I'd one day be reading about my trips to dangerous, uncharted territories. Did I mention i'm staying with nuns?


As this is just an introductory post, I figured I'd save my more lucid attempts at humor for those inevitable bouts of malaria I'm fairly certain to contract. Which brings me to my first important point of this journal, airport security "detained" my only can of 40% DEET bug repellant in D.C. Yes, I'm an idiot and left it in my carry-on. Yes, I should have packed more than one can for two months in rural Haiti. And yes, I did beg. They weren't sympathetic. On a lighter note, I've been able to pawn off a couple dozen bottles of Ensure to the health clinic the sisters run just next door(literally). In return, they promised to pray I don't get malaria.


I guess I should give you guys a little more background to this trip.


For starters, up until yesterday evening I had no idea if anyone was going to pick me up at the airport when I arrived at Port-au-Prince, and I was even less certain of what, exactly, I was supposed to be doing once I got there. The first problem was solved with a quick call to an old friend of mine who translated for me last summer in Haiti, Wilkins. Ofcourse, the only ride he could find wanted to charge me $150 US for a three hour drive. I'm also now broke. The second dilemma remains, terrifyingly but quixotically, a mystery. Fondwa is a rural mountaintop community that's something of an oasis of development among a national population where 1 out of every 2 people live in extreme poverty. I'm here to plan some projects for next summer, talk to community leaders, and work on some reforestation projects. Still, I don't exactly have a schedule or clear-cut objectives. But I do have a neat title, "Project Leader/ Development Coordinator".


Here is a basic run-down of my supplies, or at least the one's worth mentioning (read: the ones I've taken the time to unpack and actually inventory)


-An old Pentax film camera lent to me by my good friend, Rob May. Some 400 film, and lenses.
-Malaria medication, always fun.
-A few books, mostly on Haitien Political Econmy and History...oh, and that one about dropping acid.
-Paper and pen.
-No clue how to use a film camera.


Wish me luck, send me prayers, send me bug spray, enjoy.

Chappy