Christmas 2012

Christmas trees are for sale at the grocery store we frequent in Pétion-ville for $536.00 and $699.00:

Because we frequent this grocery store so frequently, when we stopped in to pick up coffee yesterday we were gifted with this 10 lb frozen turkey. It's from North Carolina (which is where we are headed in a few short hours) and will provide our neighbors, to whom we re-gifted it, with a Christmas feast.

Unfortunately, not everyone in Haiti will wake up tomorrow to a $700 Christmas tree and free turkey dinner. In fact, not everyone will wake up in a bed tomorrow. Or even in a house with four walls and a roof... 

We are exposed to extreme wealth juxtaposed by extreme poverty everyday, but still this article about poverty in Haiti's displacement camps this Christmas broke my heart. May it break yours, too, and as we celebrate this holiday remind us all that our planet is brimming with injustice, inequality and oppression. The conquering and redemption of all of that is what the season is about, no?

Morning After

In case you've ever wondered, that quote from 'The Sugar Islands' on the top left corner of our blog is supposed to be tongue-in-cheek. We love being able to tell people that in four and a half years we've never had a security 'incident' here. Not one. Not even here in the "poorest country in the Western Hemisphere." Haiti is perceived by so many as a lawless, savage and dangerous place. That perception is fueled by the State Department, by the media (check this and this out for two especially over-the-top examples), by NGO and UN security restrictions and red zones. In reality, where I grew up in West Africa and nearly every other country in Latin America have much higher rates of violent crime - especially crime that targets foreigners.

We don't have a car -- I walk or take public transport to get around and Ben drives a motorcycle. We don't have a security guard. We try not to take unnecessary risks but we don't feel unsafe. Aside from unknowingly having my pockets picked a time or two in a crowd, we have never had any untoward experiences.

Unfortunately, that changed last night while Ben was driving a friend home. They passed a group of street kids fighting at Place St Pierre, across from the cathedral. One threw another one in front of Ben's moto and he wrecked on top of the kid. After they pulled the bike off of him (the kid was fine, more or less), five of them jumped Ben. His pockets were emptied and he gained a long razor blade slash in the leg while another one took off on Ben's moto. The moto came back, thank god, and Ben went to the police (stationed one block away). They shrugged.

(We've put a temporary block on Ben's phone number until he can replace his phone, so use email if you need to reach him).

It feels pretty icky. Hopefully, it won't also feel like tetanus.

What's Up

A random assortment of some of what's been up, anyway:

• On Friday, this happened: social movements throughout the country and across the Americas protested the 8th anniversary of the UN's military presence in Haiti. I meant to write about it, but:
• We spent the weekend alternately dealing with Ben's food poisoning and a serious cockroach invasion. Me: spraying noxious, cancer-inducing roach repellant at the kitchen; Cockroaches: dive bombing out of cracks between our kitchen cupboards, and worst of all, out of the cupboards themselves; Me: dry heaving over the toilet; Ben (with a fever and chills): "Honey, please let me help you!" etc...  
• Meanwhile, it's suddenly lay-naked-in-front-of-fan-and-try-not-to-move hot around here. In the space of a week, the weather has gone from hot (and humid, owing to daily downpours) to ho-oooooot (and dry, with no rain to cool things off in the afternoons).
• Yesterday evening, Ben boarded a (delayed) AA flight to visit his family, attend a workshop and a photography festival, go backpacking with my family, and take a bit of a Haiti breather.  He'll also be getting our bicycles, currently collecting cobwebs in his parents' garage, ready for our July island-hopping bicycle tour of St Lucia, Martinique, Dominica and Guadeloupe. 

 Smiling for the camera, but sad to say good-bye

• Then this morning, this happened: Luna brought me a rodent, which she cornered squeaking and squealing in various parts of the house. It's in my closet now, and I'm still trying to determine whether or not my pajamas can reasonably pass for clothes.
  

 Look how proud she is!

Another Flag Day, Come and Gone

[9:30 Friday night: I was just getting ready to publish the post below when Ben rolled in from a long, nerve-wracking day covering the paramilitary march. 

Little did I know, an hour later we would both be stuck in a Haitian police station for trying to deliver insulin to an arrested American. I was allowed to go home around 1 AM, but Ben (along with two others that brought medication to the station) was detained for another 24 hours while authorities investigated suspected conspiracy with the paramilitaries. He was finally released late last night.

It was all over the news yesterday and high-level calls were placed on Ben's behalf, for which we have many journalist, activist and human rights friends to thank.  

This article provides a good general summary of what happened. 

It's been a harrowing weekend. We're exhausted and I'll be honest, a little traumatized.]

A girl watches as the displacement camp where she lives is torn down in an eviction.

Today was Fèt Drapo, Flag Day. 209 years ago today Catherine Flon stitched together the first Haitian flag in Archaie. (Hop on over to Kreyolicious for some interesting Haitian flag trivia). 

There are a lot of proud Haitians and proud-to-be-Haiti-lovers out there: "Happy Haitian Flag Day" was actually trending today on Twitter (along with #SignsUrAHoodratMother and We Will Never Let Justin [Bieber] Go).

Today was also the day that the would-be army planned to storm the city with guns a-blazing. Instead, there was a slightly more sedate parade of uniformed and lightly armed paramilitaries, a number of whom were arrested. The UN and police currently have the paramilitary base in Carrefour surrounded and we're waiting to see what happens.

(An aside: my best Flag Day ever was spent boating across Lac de Péligre in search of flamingos in 2010.)

Happy Harvest

 Basil. From our garden. For pesto. Tonight.

Prestige! Award(s)!

It's no secret -- we love to tilt back a cold one. In Haiti, we have our choice of one domestically produced beer: Prestige. It's a light lager, cold & delicious on a hot day (which is every day) and costs 85 cents at the cybercafe/ barbershop across the street. And for twelve years, Prestige has made the very most of having won the 2000 World Beer Cup. See the picture above of the bottle's label (taken by Ben).

Ladies and gentlemen, this tired label is about to change. Yesterday, Prestige took home another gold at the 2012 World Beer Cup, in which 3,921 beers competed in 95 categories. To quote the Miami Herald, who quotes the president of the US Brewers Association, "It's called 'The Olympics of Beer Competition' for good reason."

Read more here: http://www.miamiherald.com/2012/05/06/2786372/world-beer-cup-winners-announced.html#storylink=cpy

Given our obligatory allegiance to Prestige, it feels a little blasphemous to post the following youtube review, but it had us howling with laughter. Choice excerpts include:

"It's from Haiti, and they've had a lot of problems over there in Haiti, so definitely probably a good thing to support them right about now."

"It says it's a World Beer Cup Winner, but probably not many beer companies competing in that one, just to be diplomatic about it." ... Yeah? Well, look who's laughing now, dude.

Sick Days

We've spent the past days nursing the vile colds bequeathed upon us by last week's inclement weather. Over the weekend, we went through more than 2 lbs of sitwon, Creole key limes, Ben let me cheat at Scrabble, and even Luna was well cared-for.

My, what shocking red rain boots you have on!

Yesterday was the first all-sunny day we've had this week. Even during rainy season, a gray day is rare in Haiti but the past week has been cold and drizzly, scattered with pummeling rains.

When I had to go out on Monday afternoon, I pulled on my sturdy boots, my rain jacket, and grabbed an umbrella -- as any practically-minded woman would do, right? Without a functional waste management system or drainage ditches, the streets in this city become rivers of nastiness when it rains.

My feet are my favorite mode of transport and, maybe I'm just oblivious, but I don't think I typically draw that much attention when I walk around. To get where I was going on Monday, I walked the equivalent of 4 blocks and counted the highest number of stares and jokes EVER, every single one directed at the fact that I was wearing rain boots. In the rain.

Here's the thing: in Haiti, city folk don't wear rain boots. Rural 'peasant' farmers wear rain boots to work in their fields. Construction workers wear rain boots on job sites (and it doesn't have to be raining). But, never ever have I seen anyone heading home from an office job thus adorned.

Social and class divisions run deep here, and the urban-rural divide is one of the most acute. Though most people living in and around Port-au-Prince have come to the city within the past thirty years or so, the social status (and norms) gained by education, a desk job or perhaps just by general city living precludes use of rain boots and other things associated with rural life and manual labor. Instead, people in the city take off their shoes -- to keep from ruining them -- and walk barefoot when it rains.

It's a good thing I've always had a rebellious streak.   

(On a far more serious note, we don't remember past year's rainy seasons beginning with so much ferocity. This week's rains have been devastating. By midweek, 9 people were drowned or killed by landslides in Haiti and 11,000 displaced by flooding in the Dominican Republic. Roads have been damaged, bridges washed out, streets are blocked up, and the situation for those still in earthquake displacement camps is beyond abysmal. Cholera is on the uptick, too.)

What a Circus!

Oh, Haiti. The longer we're here, the more perplexing things seem to get.

A rumor that a ti machann (merchant) selling street food in the Delmas 33 area was arrested for having killed and cooked up an 8-year old child has turned our stomachs.

But, wait... how could she have been arrested when the national police are on strike?

Wait, wait... why would the police choose to go on strike precisely when paramilitary wannabes are occupying camps around the country and just last week forced entry to the grounds of the national palace? 

Strike or no strike, at the end of the Haiti Diaspora Marathon yesterday (which was actually a half marathon with only a few diaspora), a police officer performed chest compressions and full-on mouth to mouth resuscitation on two still-breathing but collapsed runners. I imagine this was for the benefit of the TV cameras trained on him. Apparently our cop, who was outfitted in a lab coat and stethoscope, is also a doctor.  

Speaking of doctors, President Martelly has just been discharged from a Miami hospital. Word on the street is that he was cursed by black magic and plop! landed in the hospital. Word in the news is that he had a pulmonary embolism. He hasn't mentioned yet when he'll be back in country.

Meanwhile, Haiti has been without a functional government since the prime minister resigned on February 24th, and elections have yet to be organized for municipal authorities or for the 1/3 of the Senate whose terms are about to expire. 

If you told me there were elephants and zebras parading down Route Delmas right now, I would believe you (and probably just chalk it up to a Clowns Without Borders PR event).

Sodden

In rainy season – or the abrupt onslaught of daily, heavy rains currently preceding it – owning a motorcycle becomes really inconvenient. (Read: tonight we drove 4 miles uphill in the pouring rain, our lips pursed and legs tucked up as high as we could get them, through rivers of trash and sewage flooding downhill. We got soaked and it was gross.)

Then, with almost half a million people are still homeless in this city, I feel guilty for complaining about my ride home. You can probably already guess how I feel about the Red Cross idea to build a hotel for foreigners in Port-au-Prince...

Birthday Blog

He-ello, remember us? We used to blog here.

Our days have been extra crowded of late. Here is a list of blogs that we've considered posting, but have been too busy working or playing to follow through on:

• kanaval 2012: round two (cousins visit and we do all kinds of cool stuff)
• let there be light (on 4 days with no electricity and Haiti's last minute switch to daylight savings time) 
• to buy or not to buy a bulletproof vest (Ben's ruminations on being a journalist and Haiti's "security" situation)
• the glorious experience of PARAGLIDING in Jacmel
• recent political madness
• pictures from a lovely long weekend in and around Cap-Haitian
• our vegan + gluten-free diet experiment [sorry, no birthday cake, Ben]
• the abrupt start to another rainy season

Today is another crowded day as we celebrate Ben's birthday and also remember Martha on the one-year anniversary of her death.

All Shook Up

It's been a long time since I've been afraid to change or take a shower lest a tremor propel me out of doors naked; afraid to have Ben out of sight; or, perhaps more rationally, afraid to sleep under our concrete roof. We camped out under the tin roof of our porch and our neighborhood was astir for most of the night, as collectively the city relived memories of January 12, 2010. Not even Luna wanted to be in the house.

Last night we experienced a relatively small earthquake (magnitude 4.6), whose epicenter was some 20-30 km away in Jimani, in the Dominican Republic. There was no damage, but my own visceral and physical reaction took me by surprise. Long after the ground stopped shaking (it was only a few seconds, after all), my body trembled and my heart raced. 

This moving note was published this morning by Frantz Duval, editor of Haiti's largest newspaper, Le Nouvelliste: Everything is in our bodies. It echoes a comment Ben made last night: "The earth releases its tension, and that tension is transferred into the bodies of those of us living on it."

Ginger Honey Mead

Mead is the ancient liquor of gods and men, the giver of knowledge and poetry, the healer of wounds, and the bestower of immortality. 
-- Robert Gayre, 1948 (from Sacred and Herbal Healing Beers: The Secrets of Ancient Fermentation)

the first ferment - started a week ago

strain

soak ginger to remove the peel

ginger and water in pressure cooker to speed things up

strain

add the honey and water

watch Luna watch

airlock it

wait for bubbles

Santa Sightings!

On Thursday, Ben and I went on a Christmas photo scavenger hunt around Pétion-Ville. Here's a smattering of what we found:

Oh hey, 'tis the Season

We're gearing up for another Christmas in Haiti, but have hardly had the time to do the things that usually put us in the spirit. This is what our living space looks like right now, this minute. There's a pile of work right there that I should get back to.

(But at least it's being illuminated by a lovely tree branch).

I hope you, this week, are loving on family, meditating, worshiping, celebrating, singing, snuggling, eating Christmas cookies, and possibly partaking of the other kind of Christmas spirits. We'll be joining in the fun shortly.

[I feel like I should add a disclaimer saying that Ben is not here right now, this minute, and so it was I (Alexis) that took these grainy, weirdly-lit pictures. By the way, and since a few of you have asked: did you know that you can look at the end of each of our posts to see which one of us posted it? Here's another good guideline: pictures of our cat - me; pictures that you might see in a glossy magazine - Ben.]

October in Photos

We're posting this from North Carolina. I know, our trip snuck up on us, too! I found myself calling friends and a few colleagues on our way to the airport Saturday to let them know that we would be out of the country for a few weeks. Oops.

October was such a busy month that we didn't get around to blogging about some really important stuff. Like the worrisome fact that grocery stores in Port-au-Prince had Christmas decorations out by mid-October. And the excitement of finding shallots sprouting in the compost pile.

Like friends getting hitched.

And like the peasant women's association celebration we attended during which I, in all my plaid-shirt and hiking-booted glory, was asked to give an impromptu speech.