Haiti

Day 4 – We woke, met Jan, Lucia, et.al. at breakfast, and prepared for their “day off.” Lucia wanted to take us to Plage Labadie, one of Haiti’s best-known beaches, and the beach that foreign cruise lines stop at.

Charles showed up to pick us up. As we drove through the streets, we saw people sweeping and washing them, and we saw the paintings left over from the previous day’s celebrations. Even though we drove almost the same route every day, I couldn’t recognize any landmarks in Cap Haiten – there was so much movement, and so many rundown buildings (building might be an inaccurate term – there was nothing over 2 stories tall) and so many people on the streets that I was unable to see anything I had remembered from previous trips. Except for one thing – there was a small block - a triangle actually, like a small city park - that was filled with bicycle parts in boxes, with several vendors overseeing the entire operations. There were boxes of rims, boxes of handlebars, boxes of pedals – nothing looked too new, just collections of various ages of parts.

We stopped for what became our routine to get supplies for the day. We first stopped for ice and beverages. Then we stopped in what looked to be a town center, to get money changed and allow Lucia to pick up some things she was looking for. I jokingly referred to this as Wall Street – there were 3 or 4 banks, with rows of men sitting in front of them with calculators and handfuls of bills. Amy told me that the banks were packed (we sat and guarded the truck) and these guys were the street version – a quicker, slightly more expensive way to get money changed. These guys were dressed well for Cap Haitien. By that I mean a couple of them had collars and slacks, and all of them had clean clothes, with even the ones wearing college athletic jerseys looking snappy. (Hell – they were dressed better than us.) Since we sat in the truck for at least half an hour, we drew a lot of attention, and a crowd gathered around us. Charles, Jonnot, and Lucia had gone to get various items, and we had to watch the crowd – one gentleman kept on trying to take the bungee chords out of the back of the truck, right in front of us. Others had their hands going in the open windows in the cab – we didn’t catch anyone trying to take anything, and Jonnot returned quickly to watch the cab.



While sitting on Wall Street, we saw many United Nations vehicles driving by – they were always late model SUVs, with an occasional tank. UN vehicles are white, with a block letter UN on the hoods and / or sides. Lucia told us that the UN consisted of an international force of soldiers and now, with the US not part of the Haitian contingent, was mostly Canadians and South Americans – Chileans, Brazilians, Argentines. She told us when these soldiers first arrived, they saw the many goats running around and thought they were public game, and started killing and eating them. As the goats are private property, and this is a very poor country, this did not please the locals, and she said the relationship was testy. The UN storage areas and housing that we saw – again, white buildings and fences with UN on them – were heavily fortified and not very welcoming looking.

During our ride the day before, Charles told me never to get in a vehicle with only one other Haitian in it – you couldn’t guarantee where they would take you. Either get a driver someone knew, or get on a vehicle that already has a crowd. He was to repeat instructions like these throughout our visit.

At the same time, Jan told us stories of her experiences giving medical care in Port au Prince, where she had helped with a clinic in Cite de Soleil, the city’s most notorious slum. She had been shot once, had been close to danger many times, and told us she went to bed each night just trying to forget the day and make it to the next one.

We left Wall Street and headed to another store. Lucia wanted to find something, and I had asked her if there was any place I could find some Haitian music. She brought me into one store that, when we entered, was dark. We spoke with the guy running the place, and then he turned on a light over the wall of music CDs and movie DVDs, a collection of maybe 20-25 titles. I asked Lucia to recommend something – she picked out 4 titles, and I picked two of those. I think I paid 12 bucks for the two CDs – it may have been blan rates.

At one of our stops, a couple teenaged boys stood next to the truck. One of them kept saying over and over to Lane “I love you.” She was not pleased.



We then headed west out of the city – all of our previous headings into and out of Cap Haitien had been south – and went through some more residential neighborhoods. These were quieter than the sections we had been in so far and, while the houses were still run down, they appeared more neighborhood-y. We passed what could have been a town plaza, with a large church on it, and then headed out of town, on a dirt road up a mountain.

Before we hit the mountain road, we had been stopped at the side of the road, so Charles could rearrange us to have the weight best distributed for the ride up the mountain. While there, Jan had taken a picture of a group of men standing across the road. One of them crossed the road, and started shouting, “why did you take my picture?” over and over. Charles and Lucia said something to him, but he clearly wasn’t happy as we pulled away.

The road to the Plage was one of the worst yet – a two lane (maybe) dirt road up and down a mountain trail with plenty of switchbacks, blind corners, and vehicles traveling at various speeds and directions. While not as anarchic as the earlier roads, there were many instances of us pulling to the side of the road, giving all of us in back a splendid view of a drop down a cliff face, while an overpacked pickup tried to overtake us. There were many instances of us taking a turn and trying to avoid other vehicles, people walking, and goats, all while seeing the previously mentioned cliff drop.

Charles took pride in his lack of machismo on the roads – he cared for his truck and, while he drove it fast, he didn’t drive it in a manner that would leave it susceptible to breakdowns. He took special joy in passing a vehicle- broken down- that had sped by him earlier.

The ride to the Plage was a tough one. It was long, we were packed into the truck, it was hot, and the road was very bad. We finally came upon some beaches, which were beautiful, and after a while we came to the gate for Plage Labadie. This beach is used by Royal Caribbean Cruise Lines and there were kiosks and stands all over the beach. We had to enter through a fairly high-security setup – we entered through a narrow drive, got out in a parking lot and went through a gate maze before paying our entrance fees – it was a non-ship day, so the entrance fee is $2 / person, whereas the guidebooks say it is $20 when the ship is in – and going onto the beach. The many kiosks and stands make me think it’s a hopping place – or a beach mall –when the ships are in, but there was still a good crowd there. It felt a little out of place after the poverty of the city we had experienced. None of the stands, kiosks, or bathrooms were open, however, making it seem that when the Cruise Line isn’t there, the vendors don’t think it worthwhile to be open.

Benjamin, Charles, Jonnot and I stayed with our supplies at a picnic table while the others went scouting for the appropriate beach – there were a lot of options. After a while Charles went to look for something, and Jonnot and I tried to communicate while Benjamin played in the sand. Jonnot speaks Kreyol only, and we had a lot of fun trying to communicate, him trying to teach me Kreyol, and the both of us trying to understand each other.




We finally decided on a beach, and took our stuff there. It was a nice beach – nothing worse or better than we have seen in our time here. While there, Charles left for a few minutes, When he returned, he told us he had arranged a boat ride around the beaches that make up the Labadie Peninsula. We walked to the backside of the beach we were on – it was very crowded, and the vast majority of the people on the beach and in the water were Haitians – and headed to a boat. When we arrived, Charles later told us, the boat driver was mad - he had quoted Charles a price for the boat thinking Charles had a group of Haitian friends with him – he would have charged more if he had known Charles’ friends were white people.

This happened again later, when Charles went to one of the few open vendors and ordered some food – when they delivered the food to us on the beach, they had the boat driver’s “I didn’t know they were blan” looks on their faces.

We returned to the hotel, arguing with Charles to join us for dinner. The hotel had one of the largest trees I had ever seen on its grounds – very thick trunk, branches and canopy filled with birds’ nests. The birds, which I didn’t recognize, were large –we could only make out the numerous silhouettes high above us.


When we met for dinner, we asked the hotel to find us a driver to get back to Ouanaminthe the next day. The few people they contacted were charging outrageous rates - $200+ for their less-than-4 hour round trip – and we finally decided to take the bus back to the border. Lucia and Charles would have none of that –Charles would take us back. We argued that that would be a waste of their resources and time – we were familiar with the bus, they had to have the truck to get back to the clinic, and that would use 4 hours of Charles’ day. Lucia and Charles became vociferous – Lucia actually started yelling, “NO! You will listen to me!” and Charles would echo this. In our short time here I had gotten a taste of Haitian discussions, which usually turned into an argument, only the argument was expected, and not emotional. I think the participants enjoyed the process, and it may have been a method for folks living with incredible pressure to let some off in a safe manner. I enjoyed this, once I understood what was going on – all discussion became negotiation. We argued back, telling Lucia and Charles that we were familiar with the bus, and their time in Cap Haitien and Milot was much more important. They kept yelling, telling us we were not safe and they would make all the decisions. Knowing that we weren’t going to win, and not exactly wanting to, we told them that we would pay for gas, and the money we would’ve spent on a driver would be donated to their school. Everyone saved face. Once this was done, Charles immediately got up and said “I have to go –I have to get back here early tomorrow.”



During this entire visit, Benjamin was very comfortable with our Haitian friends and all the Haitians we met. Despite everyone in the Dominican Republic asking him if he is “Dominicano,” it was so clear that he has Haitian blood – the kids at the school all played with him (one kid actually tried to get in the truck with us, not understanding why Benjamin got to get in) and Charles and Lucia were very comfortable with him, and he with them – he never displayed the shyness he does with people addressing him in the DR.