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Why Haiti? In
Fall1999, a thoughtful administrator points out that even though
I'm a part time French instructor for RCTC, I have accumulated
enough years of service to be eligible for a sabbatical.
Bravo! I look for a project in one of the forty-four
countries and regions where French is either an official language
or first language, which I have not yet visited, preferably in
the developing world. What
kind of French do people speak there?
What percent of the population speaks French?
In these principally former French colonial possessions,
most now independent, what elements of French life-style remain?
What can I learn to help make one of these countries more
real to my students, to convice them that French is a language
people really speak, really use, that is really worth studying? I
am adventuresome, a camper, willing to go anywhere. But I want to be attached to an umbrella group in case of problems,
so I look first for volunteer opportunities sponsored by a group
in my own community of Rochester, MN.
Several options in Haiti fit my timeframe. Both the United Methodist and First Presbyterian churches are sending
workgroups; however, I choose the medical team led by Mayo professor
emeritus Dr. Joseph Kiely because I know and respect him. He has six years' experience in Haiti, and
his team is working the whole month of January 2001 at the Hospital
Albert Schweitzer (HAS), so my experience will be longer.
As the only team member who will not work directly with
patients, I need a special project; HAS asks me to teach English
to their Haitian medical staff. Arrival - baptism by fire We
see little land during the two-hour flight from Miami, Florida,
as we pass between the Bahamas to the northeast and Cuba to the
northwest. After circling above the beautiful blue Bay
of Gonaïves, we arrive on time at the airport
in Port-au-Prince, the capital.
The 300 passengers descend the mobile stairway and progress
across the tarmack into the modest concrete block terminal. The mild heat outside begins to feel stuffy
and hot during the long wait for passport control, but the crowd
is again patient. Out
team is among the few blancs (non-Haitians) in the crowd. Haiti's then-president René Préval, accompanied
by bodyguards in suits and dark glasses and women in high fashion,
passes near us on his way out to a small plane, protected by guards
with machine guns. The
small uniformed brass band with dingy instruments who have been
standing outside since we arrived play briefly and disburse.
We collect our luggage - it's a beautiful, sunny day. Unemployment
estimated at anywhere from 60% to 80% is a major economic problem;
imagine 30-40 unemployed men waiting at the airport, hoping to
handle your bags for a $2 tip.
No matter that with wheeled luggage many of us are self-sufficient;
these men claim their right to provide a service & aggressively
help themselves to our bags. Each is wearing a tag with a number, which
you memorize, and then follow your belongings to the van sent by the hospital. The
HAS office
on the outskirts of Port-au-Prince functions as a receiving and
drop-off point for HAS-destined travelers who miss the daytime
HAS shuttle, as few drivers risk damaging their vehicles on the
potholes at night. This small compound has a 10-foot wall, iron
gate, permanent staff of one plus a guard, and a mangy dog. It is dusty, dirty, and we're happy to use
the toilet, even though it doesn't flush.
Don't even think of using the phone, we are told, and I
have misgivings about why not.
A two-way radio assures communication from Port-au-Prince
to the inland HAS campus, but no one is there today to use it.
Our
HAS van driver is excellent, dodging pedestrians, on-coming tilting
cars, tap-taps
and busses, potholes, and formidable traffic speed
bumps which in towns frequently
force us to nearly a complete stop. Haitians laughingly call these
bumps police couché (policemen lying down) but we are not
laughing on a subsequent trip when our rear spare tire is broken
off by this raised concrete barrier.
The driver shrugs and throws that tire in the van - "one
more" item. Ten
of us in a small van,
including our luggage, bounce along roads
which vary from paved (50 mph), to paved with big potholes (30 mph) and then dirt and huge potholes
(10 mph). The 90 mile
trip takes 3 hours, but the view of the Caribbean,
across the rocky countryside with candelabra cactus, is stark
and beautiful. We
travel along the coastal highway, National #1, north toward Saint
Marc, noting many people in Sunday-best relaxing in the streets. Today, January 2, is the second day of their
double holiday, January 1 being both New Year's Day and Independence
Day (Jan. 1, 1804) in Haiti.
Departure HAS,
6:15 a.m. With a quick
cup of coffee we're bracing for the rough highway ride which has
been known to induce motion sickness in a few stalwart travellers.
It is a long one-day return across time, space and cultures.
In
spite of recent reports of political unrest in the capital, as
we near the airport the highway is quiet and unencumbered by protesters. Later I hear that a Lawrence, Kansas Methodist
work group reports attacks against Americans during their March
well-drilling project, and they are considering postponing an
intended June 2001 return. At
the airport
the check-in line is long, mostly Haitians, but
with a few small groups of missionaries.
As foreigners, our exit tax of $30
is ten times that of Haitians. Near me is a crew who came here
to film one segment of their documentary on natural poisons of
the world, such as snake venom and plant materials.
I wonder who they consulted on the plant materials - no
doubt the voudon priests. Upstairs
you can buy quality souvenirs, and rum
by the quart in three- and five-packs. The
return is uneventful, except, for the first time in many overseas
adventures, I find myself phoning home at the first point of entry
to say I am back in the USA. Bilan It
is clear that Dr. Kiely's insistance on the importance of a four-week
stay is valid: first week for culture shock, second week to learn
the job, third week to work, and fourth week to get some perspective, although we observe well-organized teams who come for shorter periods
and accomplish much. Among
the members of our team, we are unified concerning the value of
our participation and positive aspects of the experience.
But feelings about a return trip vary.
Dr. Karsell goes back in just two months with his wife
and a work group from his church; they put a fresh coat of paint
on the walls of the tuberculosis recovery center buildings.
Both Dr. Karsell and Dr. Kiely also plan to return in January
2002 with another medical team. Language
is a factor for most of us. Burdett,
Bill and Phil, who all speak some French already, especially express
their frustrations at not being able to speak directly to their
creole-only patients, and at being dependent on a translator.
You miss a lot, they feel.
Ben and Kelly, who were on their own without a translator,
will do a similar public service project next year, but will go
to a Spanish-speaking area, since they speak Spanish. Would
I return? In the proverbial heartbeat. I went with two goals: to serve, and to experience one of those forty-four
countries and regions which the French government, and we French
teachers worldwide, say are Francophone.
I feel the English language teaching as well as the mentoring
I did were helpful. And
this journal is my attempt to share what I lived for one month
in one small corner of one of those French-speaking regions.
This experience has prompted much reading, discussion and
reflection. Although I understand when Dr. Schweitzer says:
"There is no reward for the work, except the privilege
of doing it," there is more.
I also appreciate Doug Beall's observation:
"I think the philosophical reflection is the main
reason for continuing this kind of activity...it sure lasts a
lot longer than the extra sleep you can get on a vacation."
Ask people you know - you may be amazed at who in your
community has personal experience in Haiti.
Bold face = web links in progress 6.26.01 |
