Road Trip to Jacmel

Road Trip to Jacmel

 

The trip to Jacmel started around 1pm on Sat., 15-Jan.  Aside from some R&R, we were going to erect a 40+' geodesic dome for a school.  We would make the 2 hour trip in the North Carolina school bus that was loaded with tools and donated to help GrassRoots United get off the ground.  All the seats have been removed so it is just a large mobile container that we filled with 20 people, their gear and lots of beer and other alcoholic wherewithal.

 

From the moment we left the compound, this was a party.  The mostly 20-something crew, unrestrained by anything, partied like they do in the beer commercials.  I'm reminded of a Doonesbury cartoon where he's describing such a scene where everyone is having more fun than YOU ever have.  I felt somewhat consoled by that cartoon knowing I wasn't the only one who felt I had missed the bus.  But this time I was on that bus and we found that promised land and lived that dream.  Someone had thought to bring a fairly high-powered battery operated radio that they used to play their i-pod.  The music was techno and/or gangster rap and was mostly unintelligible to me but the rest of the crowd knew all the words and sang and danced along heartily.

 

Add to this the response of the bus to the twists, turns, bumps and potholes in the road and you have a madcap scene that is impossible to describe, you had to be there.  At one point I was shooting a video of the scene in the bus when Sam hit the brakes.  I went ass-over-teakettle, landing on my head with my right arm outstretched, holding the camera up and away from harm's way.  I have uploaded this clip to my flickr account (http://www.flickr.com/photos/52559215@N07/) for your viewing pleasure.

 

The 2 hour trip turned into something like 3 ½ hours, probably because we had to stop periodically to buy beer or to pee it out.  Along the way we partied like there was no tomorrow (there isn't) as we traveled over the mountains to Jacmel with views and vistas that were astonishing.  As the title of Paul Farmer's book, "Mountains Beyond Mountains" implies, the rugged, tropical and, at least on our journey, fog encrusted landscape was breathtaking and beyond description.

 

Eventually we made it to our destination, an eco-resort operated by some Haitian friends of GrassRoots United.  An acre or 2 that abuts a rocky coastline not unlike that found north of the S.F. bay area.  We had land available to pitch our tents and a pavilion to hang out in.  The Haitian help cooked our meals and otherwise took very good care of us.  Being about ¼ century older than anyone else, I opted out around 10:30 pm.  When I got up the next morning I learned that some of the youngsters had stayed up until 3:30 am.  I was glad I hadn't and that I felt great, though amazingly they did not look too much the worse for wear.

 

Sunday was to be a day off for us and some opted to go to a nearby beach where they could hang out, drink beers or whatever, eat lobster and swim in the bathtub temperature water.

 

That did not sound bad, even idyllic but reasonably predictable.  Instead, I opted to join the more hearty souls who would hike a couple of hours up a steep trail to basin bleu, a series of 3 pools that were described as otherworldly beautiful.  The fact that it would require some climbing along with the assistance of ropes only added to what would surely be an adventure.

 

Along the way we passed some "blanchs", the Haitian term for whites, along the road.  We thought they might need a ride so Sam turned the bus around and went back to see if we could offer them one.  In another of what I no longer consider unusual coincidences, Sam knew one of the guys who came up to his driver side window and gave him a hug.  Sam asked where they were going and, continuing the coincidence, his friend said, "basin bleu."  Sam said that's where we were going and to hop in.  I was standing in the entrance to the bus so I stepped out to let them in as I heard what I first thought was a scream of excitement from their group that they had managed to hook up so exquisitely.

 

Instead, the scream I heard was of the other type.  As I stepped around the front of the bus I saw a woman from their group on the street, convulsing.  In a nano-second the mood changed from one of elation to something on the other end of the scale.  I soon learned that she had been hit by a "moto", someone on a motorcycle.  She was twitching in what I thought might have been some sort of death throe.  A crowd of Haitians immediately gathered around her as her friends tried to comfort her.  One of them was clearly in shock herself, twitching uncontrollably.

 

As a one-time volunteer fireman, I tried to think of what I could offer.  She was clearly still breathing and her heart was still beating so aside from keeping her immobile, I could not think of anything I could do.  Along with some others from the bus who by now had disembarked, we joined hands and tried to keep the onlookers at bay.

 

I'm sure I was not the only one who was trying to figure out what to do next when, in another of those coincidences that have become quite common, a "doctors without boarders" jeep pulled up and a doctor, or at least an emt, got out with her medical equipment and took charge.  Knowing that keeping her immobile until an assessment of her condition had been done is one of the mainstays of emergency treatment, I was surprised that within a few minutes they had her up and walking to the back of the jeep.  I found out later that she was conscious, talking and probably did not have any broken bones.  I also found out later that she had walked into the street without looking and that the driver of the moto had sustained some road rash when he came off his bike in the collision.  It could have been much worse as apparently one of her friends had tried to pull her back, avoiding a full-scale collision.  Someone mentioned the idea of calling the police but fortunately that did not happen.  If the police had shown up they would have arrested the moto driver and, regardless as to his culpability, he would have spent many years in prison for running into a white person.

 

After a half hour or so, we got on our way again, but substantially subdued.  When we checked the time we decided that it was too late to continue to basin bleu and headed instead for the beach.

 

You know life is good when plan B is to spend several hours on a tropical beach drinking rum and coke, eating lobster and swimming in water warm as a bath.

 

But before we got there, we had one more indescribable event that had to be traversed.  For the first time in 2 years, carnival would be celebrated in Haiti.  This is a celebration that begins in January and concludes several weeks later on Mardi Gras or fat Tues.  Christians begin lent the next day (ash Wednesday) and for 40 days cannot eat meat.  So carnival represents the last chance to cut loose.

 

And the way the Haitians cut loose is to dress up, sometimes in drag, put on masks and take to the streets to sing, dance and otherwise carry on.  But the most striking aspect of the scene are the black men who cover their bodies with (are you ready?)… motor oil.  Glistening, they prance down the street, gesticulating wildly and shouting, their white teeth in stark contrast to their shinny jet black skin.  While it would seem to an outsider like me that copious amounts of alcohol would need to be involved, I'm told that a more accurate description would be to say that they are possessed in some voodoo-like way.

 

Our local guide was Aaron, a blanch who lives in the place where we were staying, has been in Haiti for about 6 months working on various projects including some art therapy, speaks pretty good Creole, has a Haitian girlfriend and knows at least something about the customs.  He calls a carnival event a, 'rah-rah" and we ran into one on the way to the beach.  There was no way around it so we pulled the bus up towards it on a side street and watched the scene.

 

Not knowing any better, I got out and with my camera in hand went towards the main street to record the madcap scene.  I was having a great time until one of the celebrants, completely covered in motor oil, noticed me and came my way.  He was smiling exuberantly and with his arms outstretched he advanced my way as I realized I was in danger of being slimed.  The last thing I wanted was to get hugged by this gooey mess so I backed off, managing to limit the contact to a single high five that took 20 minutes to clean up after I retreated to the bus.

 

Slowly the bus advanced to the main drag and we became the center of attention for many of the celebrants.  One guy was walking along side the bus yelling F*** this, F*** that and open the F***ing door.  Of course we didn't but all the windows were open and for a bit I was concerned that one might try and climb through one.  I glanced at Aaron and he didn't seem worried so I figured everything was cool.  Even so, some of the motor oil that everyone near us seemed to be covered in made its way through the windows and onto most of our clothes and us.  Then some of the Haitians climbed on the hood of the bus so that Sam could barely see where he was driving.  Another reached in the driver's window and began pulling on the air horn.  To say it was crazy seems so inadequate but that's about the best I can do.  When it was time for us to exit the scene, Aaron said something to the "boys on the hood" and they immediately jumped off to let our now partially blackened bus proceed on its merry way.

 

The rest of the day at the beach was pretty tame after all of that.  But it was also quite lovely.  The water was exquisite and the beer was cold.

First Report from Haiti

First Report from Haiti

 

Because I was pretty busy during the month I was home after going to Pakistan and India, I didn't really have time to form any expectations regarding what I would find in Haiti.  Good thing, because I never would have guessed that I would find myself in a place like this.

 

I was met at the Port Au Prince (pap) airport by Sarah, a volunteer with Grass Roots United (gru).  I'm unclear on all of the details, but gru is an organization that does various relief work including cholera prevention certification programs, providing supplies for orphanages and distributing medical supplies.  They also facilitate the work of other organizations by providing a base and some infrastructure from which to work.  For $15/day I get a place to pitch my tent and 3 meals a day, except Sunday.

 

Arriving at the gru base we were let in the metal gate by the Haitian security guard.  Inside the walled site are 3-4 acres containing a wide assortment of infrastructure.  There is one large masonry building, surrounded by a couple of dozen tents as well as several alternative structures.  These include an earth ship house (tires filled and covered with concrete), a geodesic dome made from plastic pipe and covered with fabric, an underground "bunker" being dug our by Aaron, affectionately known as cave man and the straw bale building that Martin Hammer, architect from Berkeley, Andy Mueller an expert straw bale builder from western Mass and I are working on.  There are several metal cargo containers, some of which serve as additional office space and one (my favorite) that is packed with tools and hardware.  Unlike in Pakistan, we do have power tools as well as the electricity to run them.  When the power goes down, as it often does, they have a generator we can use.

 

There are, on average, about 2 dozen people here, most range in age from early 20's to mid 30's.  They are an eclectic bunch, a cast of interesting characters.  Most have been to Haiti before, and many have done relief work in other countries as well.  They are all very friendly and at night we go to the "hole in the wall"  (literally a hole in the cinder block wall at the back of the property that allows access to a neighbor) where we can purchase beer, cokes, rum and fruit drinks.  Beer is probably the biggest seller and most nights many bottles will find their way onto the back porch table where we tend to congregate.

 

The effort to build the first straw bale structure in Haiti goes back to shortly after the Jan. 12^th earthquake when Martin began organizing for its creation.  He and Andy have each made several trips down here to find the materials and labor that would be necessary.  Tina Therrien joined them for 3 weeks in December to help with the interior plaster.  When I first laid eyes on it, the walls were up, the wood trusses were in place covered with metal roofing and the interior walls had already received their first coat of earth plaster.  If you would like to know more about how they got to this point, you can read Andy's blog at:

 

http://tikaypay.wordpress.com/

 

Or Tina Therrien's at:

 

http://haitistrawbale.wordpress.com/

 

Apparently THEY can post pictures on their blogs, something I have yet to figure out with mine.  I hope to get some of my pictures posted on my flickr account soon:

 

http://www.flickr.com/photos/52559215@N07/

 

For the past week I've started working around 7:30, by which time it is already beginning to warm up.  It's not long before I've worked up a pretty good sweat, even if the work I'm doing is light.  For me, dealing with the heat is a bit of a problem, even though it is probably only in the 80's.  Aside from sweating, it tends to sap my strength and, if I'm not mindful, my attitude.  But when I feel the urge to whine or get frustrated, I just repeat my mantra that I learned in Pakistan (koi bat nahin, no problem) and so far that has worked.

 

Martin has joined us now and he spends most of his time doing design work and meeting with people and groups that might help to generate the next project.  So for the most part I've been working with Andy, which is a real pleasure.  Andy has been building straw bale homes for 10 years and probably knows as much about them as anyone, probably more.  It's a shame he will be leaving in a few days, as I'm sure I could learn a lot from him.  But I would not be surprised if we manage to hook up again some day, perhaps on another project in Haiti.

 

With the excellent help we get from our 2 hired Haitians (Jean Louis and Annio) we now have the exterior plaster up and I've started to do some work on the interior ceilings, part of which will be natural bamboo.  We'll have to wait weeks for the first coat of plaster to dry before we can apply the final coat.

 

Today is Jan. 12^th, the one-year anniversary of the earthquake that took the lives of perhaps 300,000 people.  Folks here are subdued and work around here has slowed to a trickle (which is why I'm finally able to get this first post off).  Many of us will be going into town to view the ceremonies there.

 

There may be some negative reaction to the continuing election drama here (as there has been recently), but if there is it appears that we will all be safe in our "gated community."  So please, don't anyone worry about me while I'm hear (are you listening mom?), regardless as to what sort of sensational news the us media may offer up for your consumption.

 

Finally, please consider making a donation to Builders Without Boarders, which is the umbrella organization which serves as the 501c for tax-deductible contributions.

 

http://www.builderswithoutborders.org/DONATE/INDEX.HTM

Many folks besides the ones I've mentioned have contributed countless hours and/or spent money out of their own pocket to get the project this far but we cannot finish this up without support from folks like you.  Please mention "Haiti Straw Bale Project" when you make your contribution so the funds will be directed our way.  I'd also like to thank the folks who have already done this, your help is greatly appreciated.

Back in the USA, on my way to Haiti

Back in the USA, on my way to Haiti

 

My brief stay in the us has been characterized by contrasts.  From the crowded, chaotic and "just barely getting by" scene in India to Christmas in America, the culture shock was severe.

 

Because I was visiting family during the holidays, I was subjected to the latest offering from the TV Gods.  Those purveyors of the most base and perverted material known to man have a new message for America.  Torture is ok.  On more than one program (sorry, I don't remember their names) a cop of one sort or another beats the hell out of his suspect to force a confession.  The preponderance of this technique, now treated in a "wink-wink, nod-nod" fashion, seems clearly designed to obtain america's acquiescence when it comes to the real thing.  After all, we have to protect ourselves from the terrorists, even if we have to abandon everything this country was supposed to stand for in the process.

 

And, of course, it works.  Private Bradley Manning who is rumored to have been the source for the wikileaks state department cables is held in solitary confinement, not even allowed to exercise, though he has not been charged with a crime.  Because I have such brief, intermittent and shallow exposure to what our media promulgates, I may be wrong here, but it does not seem as though there is the outpouring of disgust that such behavior would elicit in a conscious society.

 

On a less dramatic front, without really trying I managed to loose 15 pounds while touring India.  I suspect it was partly due to the lack of immediate gustatory gratification along with being very active and interested in what I was doing.  But back in the us, particularly during the holidays when everyone had extra goodies out, I found the temptation to needlessly indulge in caloric intake irresistible.  I suspect I've gained most of the weight back.

 

So now it is on to Haiti.  I was not planning on going there so soon after my Pakistan/India experience but the opportunity presented itself and I could not refuse.  I will be working on the first straw bale building in Haiti.  This has been a project of Builders without Boarders (http://www.builderswithoutborders.org/), headed up by Martin Hammer, a Berkeley architect.  The building's walls and roof are up and I will probably be doing some plaster work, along with other carpentry tasks.

 

This will be nothing like my experience in Pakistan.  There will be no crew there with 5 years of experience.  I will not be treated like a king with all my needs considered and supplied.  I will be expected to work much more as this is not meant to be just a training exercise.  Many of the details required to construct this straw bale building have not been addressed yet so there will be considerable flying by the seat of one's pants involved, I suspect.

 

And that is fine with me.  If anything, by experience in Pakistan was too much under control, too easy.  There was little I could add in terms of improvements to their process.  It will be interesting to have problems that need solutions.  I look forward to being challenged and am hopeful that I will be able to contribute in a meaningful way.

 

I am also going to Haiti prepared to do a water filtration project.  I've obtained a water test kit from Robert Metcalf of Cal State, Sacramento that can detect e. coli and other viruses in the water supply.  Humphrey Blackburn of Blue Future Filters (http://www.bluefuturefilters.com/) will help me determine if a slow sand filter would be appropriate and if so I hope to construct one.  They are amazingly simple, just a container filled with gravel and sand and flooded with water.  A biological layer forms at the sand/water interface (called the "Schmutzdecke") which is responsible for removing up to 99.99% of all bacteria, viruses, Giardia, Cryptosporidium, and parasites through predation.  Along with a long retention time, this simple device will make water contaminated with cholera or typhoid safe.

 

Lots of challenges ahead, along with lots of opportunities.