A year ago today I could feel myself falling in love. Not the love that hits you over the head, not irrational, sudden chemical lust/love, but the kind that says 'gosh, this is clicking nicely. I'm felling pretty comfortable, you challenge me nicely, and there is still a whoooole lot I need to learn here'. That kind of love - feeling good, lots of new stuff ahead down the road. It felt good. I felt good.
From the mountains between Petionville and Marigot
This is but one diary about the last year's events in Haiti - my personal take, for what it's worth. This community has been a huge support for me - but also for Haiti. The diary series that began moments after the earthquake (I couldn't participate at first - I was airborne and then w/o the internet) continued to become an amazing journey through history, politics and the entire aid issue. Please take the time to go back through that work. You will learn something. Kos regulars Aji and Allie123 will be posting anniversary diaries (Aji tomorrow!) so please watch for them.
A year ago today, I was in Port au Prince, traveling the streets and neighborhoods with ease, talking with people, finishing some projects, planning my next visit. I had spent the morning hanging with kids at a school, and the afternoon raking dirt piles and filling holes in their soccer field. I had tied up everything I needed to do, and over the month I was there had been able to do lots of unexpected things.I don't do 'in-love-at-first-sight', but after several visits, I had found myself slipping into a deep, lush...love.
So, as I was saying - I was falling in love. Lots to look forward to.
I packed up the next morning and caught a ride on the back of my partner's Yamaha. We rode easily through the back streets, only being stopped by the police twice (riding while white we call it). I got to the airport early, letting my partner get on to work out in Titanye. When I finally got on the flight it was almost 2 pm.
The first hint that something was wrong was after I cleared US customs - in the hall there was a woman leaning against the wall, talking on a phone and weeping with the deepest despair I think I've ever witnessed. I was drawn to comfort her, but caught myself thinking this must be a private, deeply personal issue. As I continued into the concourse, my phone rang and a dear friend told me what had happened. Instinctively, I was pulled back toward the jetway, noted the woman again, and now I knew her grief. It's a horrible feeling to make it safe out of a disaster while leaving loved ones behind.
Of course, my phone calls couldn't get through. It was to this community I turned when I finally found a computer later that night. I knew you folks would be there.
Most of you know the rest of this years story in Haiti, I don't need to go over that. I know Aji and Allie123 will do the hard work to recap.
Nevertheless, I do want to fill in some blanks. What have I been doing in the meantime, and how does it all feel now?
My partner and I do water. In Cite Soleil. Since 2005 the truck has been running and delivering chlorinated water bucket by bucket. We ship buckets down too. But all this time, the wells in the area have become more saline, and we have known that reverse osmosis was the long-term direction for this area. Expensive, yes. Energy-consuming, yes. High maintenance? Yes. But why do these folks not deserve the same water you or I would drink? Pre-quake we had found a large RO unit that had fallen off a truck. The owners weren't ready to part with it, though. Post-quake, we were given the RO, repaired, refurbished, with full technical support, and trucking to a port of our choice. We wrangled the filter media from Dow, got a 38 KW genny donated, and found a connection to Firestone who agreed to ship everything for us for free. Our gear, including a trailer, dump truck, and 2 stainless tanks full of relief food sailed on the last voyage of the Harbell Tapper to Port au Prince last week. We're trying to clear customs now.
This is what I have been busy with this past year....throughout the early months post-quake, our truck was hauling water, and when cholera hit we upped the chlorine. But in the meantime we've been racing to get this stuff down there.
I have had to sit and only watch as thousands and thousands of competent and incompetent, well-meaning and not-so-well meaning, ego-driven and faith-driven, volunteer and professional people have poured into this country I fell in love with. I've cringed a lot, and cheered a lot. I've read hundreds of emails from folks on the ground tracking cholera, hurricane, political, and earthquake damage, I've read nearly all the news reports, seen most of the photos. That's not the Haiti I love, not the Haiti I left a year ago tomorrow.
I've also tried to keep up with what Haitians have to say: those in Haiti and the diaspora. That conversation is as complicated, impassioned, and vital as anything you could imagine: a true reflection of this complex, passionate, and vital people and country.
This past year has left me, more than ever, carefully treading a tightrope. I now, more than ever, question everything I am involved with in Haiti. I have always been reticent asking for financial support - from this community and others. The 'aid racket' has been exposed for what it is - a black hole of misery for those the aid is supposed to serve, and an ATM for those who work for the NGOs. It's sickening. There is so much money floating just over head - just out of reach - of the people of Haiti, and all they hear are excuses. As before, I will always wonder whether my actions may be doing more harm than good. I can only hope that others who 'help' those in Haiti will scrutinize their own actions.
I will continue to work to bring clean water into Cite Soleil. We have operated by the seat of our pants for 6 years. The truck continues to roll. The only folks making money on the truck are the Haitians - the drivers and guys who do crowd control. The reality is, unless there is a serious, large-scale effort through the government and some funding source, there will not be a real water distribution system in Cite Soleil. As it stands, nearly the entire city dumps it's untreated human and solid waste on the edge of this neighborhood. On top of the (possibly earthquake-shattered) aquifer. Do I have mixed feelings? Yes. Will we get this system running? Yes. Will we find Haitian partners to take it over from us? I certainly hope so.
It's been a rough year. There have been a lot of people trying to describe Haiti. Most of it I've ignored. I found this story the other day. It was best able to describe the Haiti I know, the Haiti I love, while painting the extraordinary ambiguity of Haiti today. Please read the piece.
Or at the least read this bit:
Recently, a friend told me an anecdote that seemed to capture the essence of Haiti's predicament as it seeks to recover from the disasters of 2010. She was walking along a street in Port-au-Prince, concentrating, as she always does, on avoiding the potholes, rubble, and piles of trash that litter the city. A man who was watching her shouted in Creole, "Hold your head up!" In other words, be proud. Flustered, she stopped walking, trying to figure out how to navigate the road before her and keep her head high at the same time.
Peace to all of you. Thanks for giving me a few minutes. A year later, I still love this place, still look forward to a wonderful, slow romance.
(ps - here is a commemoration that I am involved with - no politics, no fund-raising, just 35 seconds to stop and remember. You are all welcome.) A press release prepared by the American Refugee Committee about the commemoration and the participants is here. As for me, tomorrow at 3:53 pm CST (4:53 Haiti time) I will be standing on a bridge in Minneapolis near the Basilica, St. Mark's, and not too far (hopefully) from City Hall to take in the bells tolling for the loss, and the bells ringing for the future.