A Weekend Away

Weathering Isaac

Sunday, August 26

The sun is finally out.

On the main streets of Petionville, you can’t even tell there was a storm. The streets have been swept - are cleaner than usual, in fact. Shoe and second-hand clothes vendors are out, the tap-tap station is bumping, that annoying moto taxi driver on Rue Faubert that always whistles at me… The street market is bustling and supermarkets and restaurants are open.

That post-storm, post-disaster greeting of neighbors and acquaintances: “Nou pa gen anyen?” (roughly: “Is anything wrong?” meaning, of course, “Did anything happen to you, your family, your house…?” ). Everyone is fine. Everything is fine. 

I’m looking for an extension cord, candles and a replacement globe for our kerosene lamp – the only lasting impact of Isaac at our house is that we still don’t have electricity. (Then again, we could be without electricity here on any given day).

It took me about an hour to clean up our yard today, and our ‘debris’ looked like pretty parade confetti:

Friday night was long, though. Even with windows shut tight against 60-mph winds, I couldn’t sleep. Howling, slashing, shredding winds and a little rain, that by early morning turned into a lot of rain. I stayed glued to the news, to twitter, to try to find out what was happening out there. Of course the people being most affected weren’t tweeting about it.

Ben spent the night in Canaran, the sprawling tent camp slum that has mushroomed up on Route National One since the earthquake – in the past year, really – as people evicted from camps in the city or simply looking for space, for land, of their own move outwards to this publicly-owned desert that they have appropriated. If government acknowledged its existence, it would be the third largest city in Haiti.

At 1:30 am, the strongest wind yet. The roof blew off of the friend’s tarp shelter where Ben was staying. By morning, half of the tents around them had shredded.

The devastation of tent camps: this is the impact of Isaac. For the most part, the impact has been on those that already may as well be invisible.

Poor people made invisible by proclamations like the one made by the Office of U.S. Foreign Disaster Assistance on Saturday, that the US Ambassador and USAID disaster experts had observed "no grave humanitarian conditions" after the storm.

Poor people made invisible by the allocation of reconstruction funds – 5 star hotels instead of public housing; by the government’s relocation program, pushing them out of visible camps, out of sight; by the re-imaging of the country as a hot tourist destination, never mind the fact that most ‘locals’ can’t afford a $5 meal, much less a $50 meal.

Except in Haiti, poverty can never truly be out of sight. And a storm like this – when pictures of flooded tent camps are broadcast around the world (even if only for a few hours before they’re replaced by concern about the Republican National Convention) serve as a reminder that those people exist, and that they’re living in desperate and vulnerable conditions.

In Cite Soleil and other low-laying areas, camps flooded – some with waist-high water. So far, seven people have been reported killed in the storm. Mostly, though, people all over the city lost the tarps and tent material that have been their shelter since the earthquake two and a half years ago.  

Channels simply do not exist for the majority of people to talk to the government, to express what they want and need or to ask for help. 9 members of Camp Avik (near the old Teleco building) that tried to block the street in front of their camp, tried to make some noise to get attention and, ultimately, assistance were arrested on Saturday. The guys at Camp Avik are members of a housing rights coalition. They're organized and active in trying to claim access to what they know is their right to safe and affordable housing. They still haven’t been released.

As much as you or I, their families deserve to have roofs to shelter them from rain and windows that they can shut against 60 mph winds.

A storm in SMS

These are the unsolicited SMS messages I received from Digicel, our local (Irish) cell phone provider over the past three days:

Friday 6:53 am: "Tropical Depression Isaac could become a category 1 hurricane. Please send the word cycone to 4636 for weather information."

Friday 7:08 pm: "Tropical Depression Isaac could become a category 1 hurricane. Please send the word cycone to 4636 for weather information."

Saturday 12:40 pm: "You would still like to know the results of the bòlet (lottery) drawing. To read the results, send RLOTTO to 4636. Price: 3 gourdes."

Saturday 8:11 pm: "Isaac is continuing toward the Gulf of La Gonave. We ask that everyone continues to take precaution as there could still be heavy winds and rain for the next 12 to 24 hours."

Sunday 1:00 pm: "We hope that you and our family are okay. Thank you for using Digicel. Send the word cyclone to 4636 for weather information."

Sunday 3:00 pm: "Remember to ask your friends and family overseas to put minutes on your phone for you. Thank you for choosing Digicel."

Note: messages translated from Creole

Battening down the hatches (Those of us that have hatches, that is)

The National Hurricane Center's Atlantic Graphical Tropical Weather Outlook is at the top of my list of bookmarks this time o' year, and the 'Outlook' this week is not so good. Tropical Storm Isaac is scheduled to become a hurricane by Friday, and hit Haiti by Saturday.

See the US Embassy emergency message here. 

At the risk of sounding like a broken record: have you signed this petition yet? 390,000 people in Port-au-Prince do not have houses to protect them from this impending storm. Thousands more have been evicted from tent camps in recent months and remain without access to safe, affordable housing.

Please call on the Haitian government and international community to resolve this urgent crisis.

(If you remain in any way skeptical, check out the front page story of the New York Times from Thursday).

6 years

of (mostly) wedded bliss.

1 marriage proposal in India
14 jobs
10 countries
1 tent, 1 basement, 2 apartments, many guestrooms and hostels, 1 house
9 tropical diseases 
2 bicycle trips
4 years in Haiti
1 earthquake
1 incarceration
1 unusual cat
1 bazillion wonderful, loving and fun friends and family members

...and so so much more. Our life together has been quite the adventure, and we're grateful for it all.

Dear so-and-so

Dear American Airlines,

It would have been nice if you had brought Ben Depp home today, like you were supposed to. And no travel voucher to compensate?! C'mon.

Regards,
Alexis

*************************************

Dear Ed'H (Electricité d'Haiti),

I haven't had power in two days. Everything in my fridge is rotting, my water pump needs you, it's pretty hard to keep the mosquitoes off without a fan and my whole house vibrates with the sound of my neighbor's oversized generator.

Anything you can do would be much appreciated.

Until next time,
Alexis

 *************************************

Dear avocado season,

I heart you a lot. 

Devotedly,
Alexis

 *************************************

Dear man in green shirt,

I apologize for yelling at you on the street today -- I do try to treat everyone with respect, but you were way out of line. Would you want a stranger talking to your sister like that?

Sincerely,
Alexis

 *************************************

Dear neighborhood mango vendors,

I don't want to begrudge you the space in front of my gate where you come when the mayor's agents chase you off of the street. It's terrible that you have to hide to avoid being beaten by batons and having your mangos stolen! 

The thing is, when you leave trash, the neighbors get annoyed at me for not keeping my section of the street clean. And the dried banana leaves that you use as packing for the mangos (and then discard right there) seem to be attracting all of the neighborhood rats.

Best wishes,
Alexis

 ************************************* 

Dear Luna,

About those rats...

Thanks,
Alexis

For my birthday (today):

Please sign this.

Change.org|Start an Online Petition

Just in time for the Carnival of Flowers

I'm back in Haiti. Five weeks, almost six, feels like a long time to have been gone and there are cosmetic changes everywhere. The retaining wall on Bourdon has been completed. The paint is dry on the 5-star Oasis hotel. Access to the ravine (ie. neighborhood dump) on our street has been closed off with high walls of corrugated tin, on which someone has scrawled in fancy lettering with blue and red flowers, "Let's make Nerettes more beautiful." Place Canape Vert has been cleared of the few straggling tents that were left and gussied up with a paint job and grass. Posters with the schedule for the 2014 World Cup qualifying games, and another for a bikini contest next weekend at the public beach, are everywhere.

Perhaps the most obvious change: Champs de Mars -- the downtown series of parks, memorials to revolutionary heros and plazas that are supposed to make up the largest public space in the Caribbean -- is empty. Gone are the tents, the hobbled together tin and wooden shacks, the makeshift restaurants and vendors stalls of thousands of the families displaced by the earthquake. Gone are the overflowing port-a-potties. What those families will do with only temporary lodging (provided mostly in the form of a year-long rental subsidy) while there is still a dire shortage of housing in Port-au-Prince - and even less affordable housing - seems to be beside the point. I've heard it said, "They'll do what they've always done." Make do.

Today, Champs de Mars is boasting the $1.6 million Carnival of Flowers. Intended in part to help boost Haiti's appeal on the Caribbean tourism circuit (and in part to draw attention to the "progress" of relocating Haiti's destitute and homeless out of sight), it's a full-on three days of parades, raras, crowds and shows by Haiti's most popular bands. Monday and today were declared national holidays just for the party.

Yesterday as I waited to meet someone two blocks above Champs de Mars and two hours before the parade was slated to start, I found myself surrounded by a drunken group of men in colorful drag, blowing whistles, shaking a tambourine and clamoring for money in exchange for a song. Speakers nearby were blaring the top hits from February's carnival. Thirty police officers in neon yellow jackets zoomed down the street, in formation, on motorcycles and four-wheelers. A man in a tall hat decorated with crêpe paper flowers walked by pushing a wheelbarrow of trash. Where was I?

A kind of van I've never seen before, with tinted windows and labeled 'Public Security,' careened to the curb with the siren trumpeting. Six men in 'Public Security' vests jumped out and wrestled an unkempt and dazed street beggar, that not five minutes earlier had asked me for money, into the back.

After my meeting the street was a crush of emergency vehicles, cars looking for parking, midriff tops and glitter, street merchants selling plastic flowers, and advertising.

O, the advertising. In less than two minutes, I counted more than 10 brands walking by on new t-shirts: Exxon Mobile, Haiti Equipment & Demolition, Digicel (the phone company), Natcom (the other phone company), Chaka Rice, Bongú, Sprite, SECOSA construction, Hertz, the Ministry of Tourism... The wooden parade viewing stands that line Champs de Mars are similarly painted. Prestige, the national beer company that was just bought out by Heineken, has an entire marching band.

I watched a bit of the parade - beautiful costumed men and women dancing choreographed dances, but it was hot and getting crowded, and I was self-conscious of the coating of dust I acquired on my motorcycle taxi across across the city and of my distinctly uncarnival-like attire.

On my way home, the city streets were empty and sleepy. The frenzy of this unexpected carnival aside, Port-au-Prince feels lethargic. Everyone has been complaining about the heat and lack of rain.

The bizarre contrasts of this place never cease to make my head spin.

Here are photos of the Carnival of Flowers from the Guardian. (No pictures of my own to share. I left my camera in Dominica with Ben, who is still touring the Eastern Caribbean by ferry and bicycle. More on that adventure one of these days).

Vacation amazingness in progress

In five pieces. Castries, St. Lucia

Setting up our rides. Rodney Bay, St Lucia.

Day 1. Rodney Bay to Soufrière.

"Under Tents" - International Campaign Launch for Housing in Haiti

"The quantity of people who are homeless in Port-au-Prince today is not acceptable. We need the support of other governments, like the US, to demand that the Haitian Government create a social housing plan. We are looking for allies to help our advocacy. We are asking simply for quality homes where people can live." - Jackson Doliscar of the grassroots group Force for Reflection and Action on Housing (FRAKKA).
                                       
Haitian grassroots organizations and international allies are launching an urgent housing rights campaign this week calling for permanent housing solutions for the nearly 400,000 people who are still living in displacement camps more than two years after the earthquake.
                                       
As part of the Under Tents campaign, Haiti’s homeless are demanding that the government immediately halt all forced evictions until public or affordable housing is made available. They request that the Government of Haiti, with the support of its allies and donor governments in the U.S., Canada, and Europe move quickly to: (1) designate land for housing; (2) create one centralized government housing institution to coordinate and implement a social housing plan; and (3) solicit and allocate funding to realize this plan. 

The campaign will press for US Congressional and European Parliamentary action, raise international awareness about the crisis through news media, mobilize international grassroots pressure through a petition, and build an international support movement especially with US and international housing rights organizations.
                                       
Under Tents is a joint initiative of dozens of Haitian grassroots groups and international allies who are committed to a solution for earthquake victims. The hundreds of thousands still living under shredded plastic tarps and tattered tents face high rates of gender-based and other violence, lack access to clean water and toilets, and combat a surge in the cholera epidemic. One in five is also at risk of imminent forced eviction.
                                       
To add your name to the petition, click here.


For updates, check out the campaign's website, Facebook page, and follow us on Twitter at @UnderTentsHaiti.

Here Now in NOLA

It's been an insanely busy and sleep-deprived fifteen days since I blogged last. Suffice it to say, an important project was completed, a solidarity housing rights campaign (which you'll hear about even sooner) is being launched and a panel presentation has been given.

Meanwhile, I have resurfaced from the madness, and am in New Orleans. Here, I will eat jambalaya instead of diri kole and listen to jazz and zydeco instead of konpa. Here, I am overwhelmed by:

space
empty sidewalks
trying not to stand too close to "strangers"
speed
quiet
whiteness
drinking water directly out of the faucet
water pressure
women wearing tights as pants (my sister warned me, still, I was unprepared)
air conditioning

I desperately needed a break, and am so glad to be here. But being in the U.S. always feels complicated, and more so every time I'm back. (There's a long history of this, by the way -- although an American, I didn't actually live in the U.S. until I was 18 years old). Thankfully, New Orleans is a good middle-here. It feels like a very non-U.S. city, and has many historical and cultural ties to Haiti.

Best of all, I am here with these women, and they are like sisters and they are wonderful, beautiful, up-lifting, creative, energetic and loving (pics taken at the Other Worlds staff retreat in November last year):

Sitting on a Gold Mine

Lakwev, Haiti is riddled with hand-dug tunnels, some as deep as seventy feet. Residents in this border town are carving out a living through mining. Daily they dig, pan and, if lucky, find specks of gold to sell to the gold buyers that visit once a week.

Five hundred years ago, Columbus found gold on the island he named Hispaniola, now divided into Haiti and the Dominican Republic. Over the next twenty-five years Spain mined this gold, killing off most of the enslaved indigenous population through hard labor and disease.

Today, new mining technology and rising gold prices are driving large-scale miners back to the island. This year, Barrick Gold's Pueblo Viejo mine is moving into full production in the Dominican Republic. Barrick is hoping to pull 23.7 million ounces of gold from this mine, which at current gold prices will be worth $37.2 billion dollars. Across the border in Haiti, American and Canadian companies are buying up mining exploration permits.

The question remains whether or not large-scale mining will be to the island's benefit. Previous mining attempts in the Dominican Republic have polluted rivers and lakes with acid runoff and in Haiti, exploratory mining is being conducted on farmland and watersheds. Dominican activists believe their government is being under-compensated by Barrick.

(This story was funded by the Pulitzer Center for Crisis Reporting as a collaborative project with two writers. See their written stories here).