Thursday, September 7th

The rest of my time in Anse a Pitre went by very quickly. It was back-to-school time in both the DR and Haiti, which meant that street vendors added stacks of composition notebooks and sharpened black pencils to their usual wares of coconuts, jeans, and gasoline.  Even without the red and yellow of changing leaves or the snaps of parents' cameras, that first-day-of-school feeling was palpable to me. New haircuts, new friend groups, the question marks and possibilities that hang in the air--September's children have some things in common all around the world.

One last thing I'd like to write about is something I think I've mentioned before, but I know I need reminding all the time.  One of my work shifts at Sadhana Forest was sorting through the "Recycling Hut," which is essentially a whole hut full of trash that has been left by volunteers or collected from the surrounding land.  For two hours, sweating through my gloves, I sorted through all sorts of left-behind items, from clothes and shoes to bottles caps, band-aid wrappers, and toothpaste tubes.  I had bins for "paper," (which gets burned as part of cooking dinner); "reusable soft plastic," (any size/sort of plastic bag in which we could carry a transplanting tree or use at the market); "reusable hard plastic," (bottles that could be repurposed); "clothing" (used to mulch young trees); "reusable string"; "art possibilities"; and then the most difficult: "non reusable metal, hard plastic, or soft plastic."  I felt so defeated each time I put something in that bin. There is literally nowhere for it to go. I thought about how every little piece of garbage I generate, either in Haiti or in the U.S., has to have a home somewhere.  Every q-tip and juice box and piece of tissue; every piece of packaging ends up in a place.  At home, I don't have to think about it as much, but I hope that, even here, I will continue to think more like someone who has to live among whatever I generate.  Someone in Haiti told me a few years ago, "when you throw something away, there is no actual 'away.'" A sobering and challenging thought.

As a final note, if you are interested in coming on a BUMC visit to Haiti with me in February, let's talk! Our trip dates are February 2-10.

Thursday, August 31st: Motorbikes and Badminton

It has been a really good and full week here in Anse-a-Pitre. Yesterday I had an adventure with Wood and Artule when we were sent out to the mountains to get terre-rouge (red clay) to use for making more rocket stoves. We brought burlap sacks, shovels, and pickaxes, and Wood convinced a moto-taxi driver to give us all a lift out to the site for about $5. I rarely take motorbikes here and have definitely never gone four-to-a-bike (plus our tools).  So that was cozy. I got to be in the safest, most squished spot in the middle, rather than hanging on off the back.  We ran out of gas once and had one other unidentified problem with the bike, but we made it out and filled the sacks.  (Or Wood and Artule filled the sacks while I helpfully held them open). When we realized we didn’t have anything to tie them with, the motorbike driver found some shirts on the side of the road and cut them into strips to use as ropes. They somehow loaded four heavy bags of clay on the back of the bike, plus one in the driver’s lap, and sent him back to Sadhana Forest. Ever-ready with my running shoes on, I elected to run back instead of hitchhike. Lunch that day was well-earned.

The festival last weekend turned out to be a bi-national celebration of Haitian and Dominican culture, held on a Haitian street by the ocean.  There was lots of music, soccer, and art, and, what do you know, some intense badminton.  Most of it happened after my bedtime, but one afternoon I caught a little parade down the main street, with an eight-person brass band that played a few bars of music over and over as two lines of children marched behind.  I tried to take a video but ended up with only two photos of my shoes. 

Maybe because of all the focus on the festival, I had trouble finding a ride out to the refugee camp, so I walked there on Saturday, which took 92 minutes. The first time I went, the pastor, Eduane, wasn’t there, so I couldn’t do a whole lot except say hi to people.  I went again on Tuesday and met with Pastor Eduane, who told me what’s been going on this year. The government gave the families who were kicked out of the DR in 2015 financial incentive to go elsewhere in Haiti, and some left to join relatives. There are 43 families left who have nowhere to go, and someone was able to buy the land they’ve been camping on so that they can have a permanent settlement there.  Local churches have sent food and have helped them to build more stable homes out of branches and tarp.  Pastor Eduane asked if I could come in the afternoons this week to teach English classes, which I’ve never done but was happy to try (especially because he offered to send a ride to fetch me every day).  It’s mostly young adults who have shown up, and their eagerness and intense focus as we began our lesson really overwhelmed me the first day.  I have never in my life taught students who exhibited a hunger like theirs.  We have lessons under a canvas tent, and I didn’t come to Haiti prepared with any supplies or plans, but we’re doing our best.  I brought the two project directors from Sadhana Forest with me yesterday, and they took the more advanced speakers to have practice conversations.  They are going to come back after I leave and plant fruit trees out at the camp, and hopefully start some more sustained ways of helping.

So that's what’s going on! Again, thank you so much for staying connected.  Any thoughts, ideas, organizations or people I should get in touch with--send them my way!

Thursday, August 24

I wasn't able to catch a bus from Santo Domingo to the Haitian border on Tuesday, so I ended up staying an extra day in the capital, enjoying the hospitality of a random woman who took pity on me when I walked up to the hostel where I had stayed every year since 2011 and found it boarded up and dark. So she hooked me up with a place to sleep, and another complete stranger found me a taxi to the bus stop the next day. You will all be thrilled to know that the taxi driver willingly drove me all the way back to retrieve my flip phone when I realized I'd left it under my pillow.  Another near-disaster the flip phone, narrowly avoided :)

The bus ride through the mountains of the Dominican Republic was really beautiful, and my walk to and across the Haitian border was peppered with friendly faces and (limited to my few Spanish phrases) conversations.  The government of the DR has continued to bolster a military presence at the border, now sporting a giant Dominican flag and statue that guard the fancy new iron gate.  Not the most welcoming.  Gone are the days when it was just a single chain across a doorway.

Crossing into Haiti and visiting people has been a huge source of joy for me.  Everything is really green and lush (for this part of the country), thanks to lots of rain and some innovative irrigation practices.  The Haitian guys--Wood, Nixon, Patrick, Sandy, and Arthur--who run the tree-planting and gardening at Sadhana Forest are doing really well.  The trees on the property have grown significantly, and we planted ten more on a family's land out in the mountains this morning.  Last night, we went out to the town (I can count on one hand the number of times I've been awake after dark in this place), bought peanuts and fried plantains from a woman who sells them on the street, and walked to the beach to sit in a boat and look at the stars. 

This weekend, I'm looking forward to spending time at the refugee camp (now over two years old), attending an old-school revival at a nearby church (I probably won't go for the all-day, all-night option), and checking out a cross-cultural festival I've seen advertised on the street. Many of you may remember that the last time I got super excited about a festival, it ended up being about processed meat, put on by the Dominican equivalent of Oscar Meyer. So I don't have my hopes up super high this time.  But we'll see!

Anyway, the Internet cafes in Pedernales have all closed, so I am using the wifi in a friend's welding shop, and it's very very hot here. So I'm going to call it quits and head back to Haiti. Thank you so much for your good thoughts and for keeping in touch. I hope to write back sometime next week with updates from the refugee camp.