Voodoo, being white, and my meal makers

February 26, 2011

Verrettes, Haiti

We did the hour long motorcycle trek out from Deslandes again yesterday, mostly because we have to do a lot of internet work for Centre d’Intervention Jeunesse. En route here, on the dusty gravel path, there was a group of people, and one fellow was walking backwards, with the others following him. He was wearing a patterned suit- I thought he was acting a bit like a jestor, but wasn’t sure. The women were all wearing black dresses, and they were doing a sort of dance, and singing in response to what the first guy was singing- they didn’t look at us at all (they looked like they were in a trance-like state, actually), and after we passed them, Jean Baptiste stopped the motorcycle to look back at them- he said it was some sort of voodoo ceremony of sorts. 

We arrived before dark, which is just as well, and went over to Hotel Tifa to use their wireless system again, but alas! Mme Francoise told us they were having a party, and that there wasn’t room for us- so, rats, that was foiled. And there wasn’t hydro here at the house, as the solar panel wasn’t charging, so we went to Rooby’s, a dance club, so that I could plug in my computer to charge it up again, and work on all of the documents, etc. I had to do.

When I was done with the documents, we went over to the dance club and watched the dancers- oh my gosh, but the Haitian compa is SO beautiful to watch! I danced a couple of times, and at home, for regular dancing stuff, I think I’m an okay dancer, but not here, not in a million years. There is a sexiness to the very slow, subtle moves that the couples make together- I have to slow down that North American shaky shaky boogie and find a quite gentle groove.

I really wish I had an internet stick for my computer, as then we could just stay in Deslandes for the weekend- I like the community there better than the house in Verrettes. Verrettes is a pretty big and busy town, whereas Deslandes is such a quiet (quiet from traffic) village. The pollution in Haiti is quite something- in between the steady burning garbage smells, there is constant billowing of black smoke from almost any vehicle on the road- another reason why Deslandes is preferable, as there are truly very few vehicles that go by. I'm sure that being here long term would have an effect on my lungs!

I feel very white, and very privileged, as we ride by on the motorcycle, passing countless children, adults and elders carrying water. I’m getting to the point where, rather than being amazed by what people are carrying on their heads, I’m really realising what a hardship this constant job is. (Well, I knew it before, but now I'm more affected by it!). We take water for granted, and you really can’t imagine how precious it is until you see how hard people here work to transport it home. When we were in Verrettes on Wednesday, I saw a young teen who had just dropped a whole 5 gallon jug of water onto the ground- I had been wondering how often that happens. It’s the first time I have noticed that- I really felt for him, as he no doubt had to go back to the source to fill it again. It's surprising how little water you use when you take a bucket shower- less than a quarter of a 5 gallon pail does me just fine!

She will carry the large yellow jug on her head, and carry the 5 gallon pails. The wee tyke will carry a couple of jugs as well.

Benitta makes us three wonderful meals each day- I guess that is an arrangement that CIJ has with here. I’ve been going and helping do dishes to pitch in a bit, and maybe this week, I can help prepare some food with her. I brought a sarong here with me that I never wear, so I think I’ll offer it to her. I wish I had brought more things I could offer as gifts to people, but this time around, I just didn’t get that far with my packing. Maybe I can find some nice headscarves here somewhere as well. I’m glad I brought some kerchiefs with me- I’m not even sure why I did, but it allows me to dress more like the villagers. Except for the fact that I’m the only woman wearing pants.

I’m hoping to print off some of the photos when I get home to make some books for here- one for the school, and another of the construction project. People here comment on how fast I work (as I type). I’m really not even that fast, but I guess it’s all in perspective. Everything else here is so slow, that my typing might indeed appear fast!

Sano lives here at the CIJ house in Verrettes. I doubt that he is paid, but he is lodged and fed, and he takes care of the house and the grounds. He’s inside washing the cement floors- he has a bucket of water, and he is throwing cups of it onto the floor- to keep the dust down. I thought he was going to sweep or mop them too, but nope. The easy floor washing solution- my style. I guess that's the most appropriate way of keeping the dust down on an unfinished cement floor.  He made us spaghetti for breakfast- I haven’t had spaghetti for breakfast since leaving Port au Prince.

A lovely man, and a terrific cook!

The issue of the lack of toilets here in Haiti I think remains a really serious one. People squatting wherever they want, or using plastic bags which then get thrown into the streets, or using the traditional latrines, if they’re lucky enough to have a toilet- these latrines can be as deep as 20 feet, maybe even deeper.