Zanmi Lasante and Zanmi Agrikol

It's been several weeks since I've been able to reengage with my thoughts about Haiti: my research with the AgEcon department is picking up, and I traveled to Birmingham to compete in the Southern AgEcon Association Quizbowl. I've been busy, but Haiti still remains in the back of my mind, and I'll bore anyone who bothers to listen with my ramblings.

Last I posted, I talked about our arrival to Cange. We were lucky enough to have lodging in the Friendship House, a wonderful guest house built and supported by the Episcopal Diocese of South Carolina. The accommodations were simple but comfortable (minus my adventures with an infestation of Haitian ants, but more on that later).

View of the Friendship House

Two of our excursions during our time involved visiting Zanmi Lasante and Zanmi Agrikol; two associate branches of the nonprofit organization Partners in Health. As an international studies major, I'd spent nearly the entirety of last semester discussing Haiti and the possibilities for its future. Such a topic is impossible to discuss without the name of Paul Farmer. He is an American doctor from Harvard who spent part of his time before finishing his medical studies in Haiti; he was struck by the dire poverty and the desperate situation of the many who were ill and dying from treatable diseases in the surrounding areas of Cange. After returning to the US, he founded Partners in Health in Boston to funnel money to its sister organization Zanmi Lasante in Cange. Through a variety of miracles and the determination of Farmer himself, visitors to Zanmi Lasante find an oasis in Cange where a medical complex and its associated community health workers service the surrounding population of nearly 100,000. The hospital complex itself houses a variety of branches of medicine, from dentistry to obstetrics, as well as a school and church. The buildings are all large concrete structures, shaded by large trees of many varieties that Farmer has brought to the complex; the size of the trees represents an astounding contrast next to the short and stubby flora that populates the rest of Cange.  Zanmi Lasante turns no one away at its doors: all who come to be treated will be treated to the best of the doctors' abilities, free of charge. I think that statement bears repeating: all who come to be treated will be treated to the best of the doctors' abilities, free of charge. 

The quote at the right reads: The happiest man is he who works for the happiness of others. 

Church in the Zanmi Lasante complex

While Zanmi Lasante has made incredible strives in improving the health of Haitians, members of the organization started identifying other problems that access to healthcare simply weren't going to cure. Malnutrition was a major cause of many other problems, but it wasn't possible to simply distribute food. Thus, the birth of Zanmi Agrikol, essentially an agricultural experimental station that works to improve the food security of the surrounding areas (this is where the Ag Economist in me gets excited!). Located just down the road from Zanmi Lasante, Zanmi Agrikol is experimenting with nearly every tree and plant they can get their hands on, simply to determine what will grow in the climate. Peanuts are their largest success thus far: they've been able to produce peanuts to be processed into plumpynut, which is a peanut paste mixed with vitamins and minerals and distributed as a medication in response to chronic malnutrition. 

Beyond creating a market for peanuts, Zanmi Agrikol also runs its own extension service of sorts (those of you who read my Ecuador blog might remember my ramblings about the importance of extension). They have community agricultural workers who go out int he communities with seeds, mango tree seedlings, tools, and a goat to give to families. They give the family the needed inputs and teach them the knowledge to grow their livelihoods; when the goat kids, the kid is returned to Zanmi Agrikol to be given to another family.

We were also able to tour the new construction and agricultural technical school, which was in the process of being constructed. It was hands down the most impressive piece of architecture I witnessed in Haiti in terms of design. The idea is to provide a place to provide Haitians with the skills to provide for themselves in the basic industries the Haitian economy needs to build up in order to grow. While I imagine that the construction itself is requiring significant outside funding, future projections hope to have the school be self-sustaining through student tuition, though it will provide scholarship opportunities. 

To me, it was a breath of fresh air to witness efforts in Haiti that were truly making a difference in thousands of peoples' lives as well as laying the groundwork for future generations to pull themselves up and out of their current situations. Zanmi Lasante also helps fund schools through partnerships in the area; Haitians are the staff of their organizations and they are invested in the livelihoods of the Haitians from the very beginning. It is these organizations, especially Zanmi Agrikol, that make me want to go back to Haiti and contribute somehow. VT crop and soil scientists are involved in the experimentations there; who knows, perhaps a thesis during graduate school could find its roots in Haiti?

More information about PIH: www.pih.org

Voyage au Paysage

On Wednesday (1/11) we departed Port-au-Prince for the village of Cange, a 2.5 hour journey with 17 of us (14 Americans, 3 Haitians) packed into a van meant for somewhere between 12 and 15 people, with our luggage piled on top. The Blanchard children gave us a fabulous send-off, waving and jumping on the back of the van and generally carrying on. As hard as Port-au-Prince was in some moments, I will always look back at the final moments at Blanchard as uplifting, because of those children.

View from the back of the van...there were four of us back there

But before we loaded into the van, the Coopers adopted a little girl from the Blanchard school. Her name is Steve Spierdinia (we're pretty sure she goes by her middle name) and she is 5 years old, which means Coopers will be able to support her for many years to come, and hopefully return to Haiti on mission trips and see her progress through school. $400 a year pays for her tuition, uniform, school meals, as well as any medical attention she may need.

We traveled on Highway 3 to Cange, which had recently been finished and was fantastically smooth, making our journey relatively painless. As we drove up through the mountains we got a better idea of what the landscape of the country really looks like: mountainous and arid, unfortunately. It's beautiful landscape, but much of it is rocky and lonely, with drive riverbeds in the valleys and not much growth where there should be. We did pass some evidence of USAID and EU agricultural projects, or at least signs for them. We also passed the Péligre dam on the Arbonite river, built during the 1950s by the US Army Corps of Engineers in order to provide electricity to a large part of Haiti. Unfortunately, many of the inhabitants of the land were unaware of what was going to happen once the dam was completed, and one day the river began to rise without warning, forcing thousands off of their arable homesteads onto the rocky mountainsides. The subsequent lake is beautiful to the unknowing eye, but unfortunately the dam has fallen into disrepair and fails to provide the electricity it once promised. One more footnote in the story of the plight of the people of Haiti. 

Our arrival to Cange was just as wonderful as our send-off: the new school there, built as a cooperation between Partners in Health and DigiCell (Haitian mobile phone company) welcomed us with a song, sung by most of the students. They all lined up with their teachers, and (some more enthusiastically than others) sang a tune in Creole just for us. On the face, the situation was slightly odd. Most of us had absolutely no connection to any of these children or the teachers, most of them had no idea why we were even there in Haiti, yet there they were, singing to welcome us to their community and their country.  I'm not sure I could ever imagine an entire American elementary school lining up to sing welcome to a team of random people from another country simply because we wanted them to feel comfortable. This, to me, speaks to the incredible community spirit of the Haitians, and helps me understand how rich their lives are, in this aspect. 

There's much more to write about Cange and our visit to Zamni Lasante  as well as our general joy at being in Cange, but I shall save that for another post. Meanwhile, delight in this!

Chez moi

I am once again home, after a decent day of traveling yesterday.  We made it back, as well as all our luggage, so as the Haitians say: messi seigneur!!

But allow me to go back to Wednesday, the last day I posted here. I kept a journal all the way through the trip, and I would like to finish my short blog by doing a post about each day's activities since then, as well as returning to previous posts and filling them in with pictures now that I'm home. I'm doing this mostly for me (and the selfish part of me that thinks that someday I might have kids who might want to see something about my travels), but I am also happy to share with those who want to know more about our trip and about a personal experience in Haiti.

So y'all come back now, ya hear?

Joy among the Difficulties

Today was another day of work in Cite Soleil, and this time we split into three groups in the morning to work on an additional home just down the street. I was sent to that job site, which was luckily in the shade mostly. We were to spread rubble in a foundation and then form bucket lines for the cement floor. Molly and I struggled to pick up wheelbarrow loads of stones and concrete rubble, but somehow we got them in there and dumped. The house was being built directly adjacent to an older woman's home, and through my french I managed to figure out that her son was the one to inhabit the new home with his two children: one a son already in school, and another, a daughter, whom she went to retrieve so we could meet her. Before she did this however, she watched us women work a few minutes and decided we weren't doing it right; so she climbed up on the foundation and took the shovel from me and showed us which rocks needed to be there and which ones were too big. I offered her my gloves, but they were too small; fortunately Molly's fit and together we worked with her until the foreman returned and the cement line began. Her son was unbelievably gracious, telling us "I pray for your safety everyday" because we were there to help build his home. He and his mother made sure we were comfortable during breaks as well, dusting off cement bags to sit on and pulling a chair out of the mother's home, which couldn't have been much bigger than 15 x 15.

Day 2: Progress

I think this kid's got the gangster look going better than I did!

Today was easier, I think, to handle, because the shock had worn off a bit, and the kids recognized us. We returned in the afternoon, and while there wasn't quite enough work to keep 17 people occupied the entire afternoon, there certainly were enough kids. Several greeted me by name, and soon I had my little crew following me. I had brought my camera knowing what the consequences were going to be: every time I took it out to take a picture, there is infinite tugging and pushing and begging to see the picture, and at times it just wasn't worth it. The kids discovered my French anew today, and became confident enough with me to pull me over to meet several of their mothers, whom previously I had been wary of because I wasn't sure what they would think of their kids hanging on me and me letting them. The mothers just smiled and some chattted wtih me in French: one mother took pity on me at some point and pulled up a cinder block for me to sit on to rest for a few minutes, a respite from the kids. One boy had out a book of grammar and I looked over and started reading, and I was dragged to a concrete foundation with a tarp over it and made to sit in a corner and read short poems for it, to an audience ranging from about 2 to 12. They were rowdy, but amazingly when I got annoyed at them fighting and said listen, they did. I think they were amazed I could pronounce the words and that they could understand me. Another highlight was when they turned my baseball cap around backwards, deciding this was more appropriate, and pulled me to my feet and dragged me out from under the tarp yelling "gangster Annah, gangster Annah." Now anyone who knows me is probably laughing to themselves right now, but it's true, there are some children here in Haiti who believe in my ability to be gangster.

Our reflections tonight were of the joyful moments, and I think those are so necessary to remember in a place like this, and especially in Cite-Soleil. The ministers that have spoken with us at dinner in the Blanchard compound are certainly aware of the challenges they face, but they believe in the ability of the church to make a difference, and I can see it happening. The presence of a water filtration system in the Cite-Soleil church compounds certainly makes our lives easier, and I can't imagine the difference it makes for the church members who no longer have to purchase as much water. There is also a clinic and a school there as well as here in Blanchard. Lives are improving, even if the vastness of the problems is overwhelming.

Travail

Today was our first day of work in Cite-Soleil (it might be Cite-de-Soleil, I'm not 100% sure on that). We all slept better and got up a bit later to the sounds of the school children filling the compound in their dusty pink and blue uniforms; the girls have beautiful white ribbons in their hair, and they all sing together at the beginning of the school day before going to their respective classrooms, grades 1-6. We loaded into the tap-taps at about 7:30 and headed to Cite-Soleil church, where we left our bags stuffed with snacks for lunch and crossed the thoroughfare to the poorest place in the Western Hemisphere.

Blanchard children- so cute!

Most of the dwellings are made of sheets of tin or tents, with little furniture, though there is electricity. We are working on two cinder block homes within ten yards of each other, for members of the church I believe. We worked about three and a half hours; we drew a great crowd but we greeted people with smiles and "bon jou" and received the same in return, and soon people were comfortable with our presence. We formed bucket lines and passed cement up to the Haitian masons, about four of them I think for the two houses. We did the same for cinder blocks. I prefer the cement line to the cinderblock line, that's for sure. We unloaded two school-bus loads of blocks. It was stop and go work though, and in between we entertained and were entertained by the children who weren't in school. They wanted to know our names and our ages and wanted to play very much; I spoke in French as much as I could, and I think I was mostly understood, as often they replied with questions in Creole, to which I could only respond "je ne comprends pas, desolee!"

At some point a UN humvee showed up, and they were surprised to see us. They were wearing full combat uniform including weapons and rounds, but at least not helmets, only blue baseball caps. They were Brazilian, and were intent on determining our mission for being present, and were surprised we had not alerted their base previously, so that they could provide security. I, however, felt more comfortable without them there than with them; they seemed really ridiculous entering this neighborhood with combat uniform, while we were standing around filthy in t-shirts and work gloves. I almost wanted to ask if they wanted to help us out, because it seemed to me that we were doing more for the people in that moment than they riding around in their white UN vehicle meant for war were doing. They did mention that there was some gang violence in the next neighborhood over, but seemed content with what we were doing and left after about half an hour.

The afternoon was really hot, and dusty, and the odors of human and human excretement grew worse with the heat. Trash floated high in the wind, and heavy clouds that looked like rain but were probably amalgamations of smoke and trash hung over the city. The rest of the kids who attended school had returned, and promptly removed their uniforms, leaving most of them half if not fully naked. They pulled and pleaded with us for our hats and watches. What got me was when they begged for water, and we couldn't share, for our water bottles were all we had for us. There was so much malnutrition; some of the babies had yellow-ish hair in evidence of this. Mud-pies were laid out in the sun on canvas to dry. Mothers are so very young; elderly people are few and far between. Children were running around with condoms filled with water as cups; we wondered if they knew what they were really for.

I still have a lot to process, and tomorrow will be another day like today. We are going to meet and reflect in a minute, and then bed. For those of you at home who worry, don't worry about our team- we are safe. Worry about those children in bed tonight who begged for water and might not have gotten it today.

L'Arrivee

I can't believe I'm in Haiti. It's exhilerating, wonderful, exhausting, distressing all at once.

Blanchard, the school/church complex run by Haiti Outreach Ministries (HOM) where we are staying is wonderful. We have bunk beds with air mattresses and malaria nets (not the most comfortable, and I'm not sure I'll ever be comfortable sleeping on an air mattress anywhere but on the floor, but it's a bed) as well as working bathrooms and showers with cooler water, not cold, that feels glorious after hot dusty rides in the tap-taps. Tap-taps are pick-up trucks with benches on back, that serve as the go-to Haitian public transportation. Our tap-taps belong to Blanchard, so it's only us that ride on them.

Rooftop dining at Blanchard

Skeeter nets for the beds; air mattresses and bunk beds...sort of mix

Traveling in style in the tap-tap

As I write, music is filling the air from the church as it has since 6:00 am this morning. Nights come early (we went to bed at 8 last night) and mornings earlier (we rose at 5:45) as church began at 7 this morning. It feels natural though, and our bodies reset last night after our exhaustion from traveling all day. We left our hotel in Ft. Lauderdale at 4 am and arrived in Port-au-Prince at 9:30, then proceeded to have a full day traveling to an outlook over the city and some tourist attractions. Just a first taste, so to speak.

Church this morning was an experience. We attended the original HOM church in Cité Soleil, one of the poorest parts of the city. There were about 500 people, and at some point we rose and had the ushers pin ribbons to our shirts, to honor our presence I suppose. The readings were in French and some of the hymns, but most of the rest was in Creole. I understood quite a bit more than I thought I would, enough not to get bored during the 2 hour service. Everyone was dressed to the nines, whatever their nines happened to be. For some it was a full suit, for others a t-shirt and a skirt. Many of the elder women wore lace caps as well. Wedding rings and glasses were few and far between, though to the people standing and waving their hands in prayers, these are frivolties, even though I suspect more than a few wouldn't have been able to see the readings had they been written in front of them. A choir of women about my age sang with hand motions, to much applause. Applause was encouraged at many points in the service, which would have garnered many a gasp in church services at home. These people come together and honor God with their hearts full of love, even though they are in need of so very much.

Cité Soleil Church

Sortons pour servir: we go out to serve
Je suis avec vous: I am with you

We visited one HOM site after church where the church and other buildings were mostly destroyed by the quake. Plans for reconstruction are underway, though, and we were there to help move pews under a replacement temporary tent with enough room for about 500 people if I had to guess. The work was quick as we aided members of the community, and I had some disjointed conversations in French and English with some young men near my age. I am glad to be able to communicate at least some of my questions.

We rode through the inner-city of Port-au-Prince this afternoon, to get a better flavor of what the city's like. Some parts smell from the piles of rubble and trash and raw sewage in the streets, while people pack the sidewalks selling food and goods. Tent and shacks fill what look like former city parks. We passed by a cholera center, and one of the Haitians sitting with us explained about what problems 80% unemployment brings: drugs, gangs, and alcohol. The presidential palace is a broken symbol of a broken government and a broken country: it's dome sits precariously, threatening to fall in any minute. We stayed only a minute, as we were under seige from peddlers asking for money and for us to buy some souvenirs. A similar scene was found at the Cathedral: it was almost like visiting the Roman Forum, except in a a building not meant to be falling apart. Signs of its former grandeur are evident in the rich tiling now cracked and filthy and the stone windows lacking their stain glass. Beggars carrying young children asked for money for medicine and food.

National Cathedral

Presidential Palace

And then, we ended up in this sanctuary of an old hotel fairly well preserved that serves as a sad reminder of what Haiti could have been. It had rich detailing and a wonderful veranda where we ate lunch looking through the tropical vegetation at the sea. We could have been in Costa-Rica or the Dominican Republic, not Haiti.

I have much more to say and many pictures that I wish I had the capability to share, but suffice it to say I willl not forget Haiti. Leon (the head of HOM, I think) thanked us for coming here,  telling us that those who come come because they have hearts full of love. But we must have patience, be flexible, and share Haiti with those when we return. I'm going to have a hard time leaving this place, and an even harder time not finding ways to come back.

Yes, folks I'm off again. This time to Haiti, but just for a week. I've been busy busy busy since graduation in December filling out graduate school applications and taking a GRE, so what better way to relax than go to Haiti, right? (Undoubtedly most of you are shaking your heads at me.)

 I'm traveling with members of the Presbyterian student ministries at Virginia Tech and Radford- about 14 of us in all. We are going under the auspices of a mission trip, but my expectation is that we will come back having learned far more and gained much more perspective than whatever impact we may have on Haitians. Our main goal is to go and see and build relationships, essentially. We have some money donated by Frank Beamer and his wife to contribute to constructing a house or two in Cite-de-Soleil, also known as the poorest slum in Haiti, and we will be aiding hired Haitian workers in the construction for a few days. Then we will be heading northward from Port-Au-Prince to Cange, the site of Dr. Paul Farmer's Partners in Heath Hospital. Partners in Health in a nonprofit organization started by Farmer during the 90s (I believe) that has made huge progress in bringing better healthcare to the area of Cange as well as Haiti by training Haitians to go out to the villages to administer to their neighbors, and providing the hospital when cases are more serious. If time and flexibility permits, we'll also visit some VT agricultural experiments going on in the area, which I think will be sweet, but then again I spent six weeks in Ecuador tromping up and down mountains to interrogate farmers and look at fields.

Blue marker is Port-au-Prince, red is Cange

 We are departing from Reagan National Airport tomorrow to overnight in Fort Lauderdale- yay sunny Florida- and then we'll have an early morning flight to Port-Au-Prince. High temperature on Friday in Fort Lauderdale: 74 F. High temperature in Port-Au-Prince on Saturday: 88 F. This definitely makes up for freezing in Ecuador in June.

I do not expect to post regularly here while I'm actually in Haiti, though I'm going to keep a journal as if I were publishing here and will post when I return, including lots of pictures. Keep us in your thoughts and prayers as we travel; while I do not expect much trouble, I do think there will be significant culture shock among our group. We will all have stashes of snacks, so even if the food gets dicey, I have a spork and a jar of peanut butter, and a one pound bar of chocolate from Trader Joe's. What more do you need in life anyway?