Super Bowl in Haiti

Super Bowl in Haiti

 

Sometimes I think I do things just so I can write about them.  Perhaps that in part was my motivation for going to the UN with some others from GRU (GrassRoots United) to see this year's version of the super bowl.  This one was number 45 and I had to confess to one of the 20-somethings that I remembered the first one between Green Bay and Minnesota.  Apparently my memory is a bit faulty as I checked later and found out it was Green Bay against Kansas City.

 

Anyway, I had been told by Marty that getting onto the UN base was quite difficult as their security was very stringent.  But the others in our group who had been there did not seem to think it would be a problem so I figured I'd give it a try.  As we approached the gate there were several UN soldiers, complete with their automatic weapons, hanging around but they just smiled as we walked past.  At the entrance there was a guy at the walk-through metal detector but he only did the same.  As I walked through the detector my defibrillator set it off, but no one seemed to care and we just proceeded onward.

 

It wasn't hard to find the bar where the game was being played as it was pretty noisy.  When we got there I looked with amazement at the menu offerings.  Lots of stuff on the menu I hadn't seen since I arrived in Haiti a month ago like hamburgers, even veggie burgers, pizza, fish and brownies.  A full bar included $2 beers which is twice what we pay at the hole in the wall on site but still not bad.  There were probably 50 people there but still not too crowded.

 

After buying a round of beers and ordering some pizza we settled in just after the game had started.  I was about to watch my first football game in 10-15 years.  I was also going to expose myself to the most hyped version of US tv that the industry is capable of producing.

 

The game was interesting enough but it was the commercials in between that I found the most fascinating.  Previews for upcoming movies and tv programs were all the rage, and rage is the operative word here.  There was no apparent limit to the degree or amount of violence that now appears acceptable to the folks who control our media.

 

This comes on the heals of another meeting I had with US tv during my month back in the states in Dec.  Visiting family for the holidays, I was again subjected to its wrath and was struck by a common thread.  In several of the shows I watched the "cop" (which may have been a cop, military police, or other authoritarian-type figure) would go way past the limits of what used to be appropriate interrogation procedures and into torture, often with the winking approval of another associate.  It was as if any rules against such tactics were only to be obeyed by morons too stupid to know how the real world works.

 

As a 9/11 truther (see ae911truth.org for details) I think I know how the world works much more clearly than the average person and far more honestly than those who have not figured out that all 3 buildings (yes, 3) that were destroyed on 9/11 were brought down by controlled demolition.  As such, I see the unbridled violence and acceptance of torture being disseminated as a tactic by the "powers that be" to mold public opinion into acceptance of these as normal and appropriate.  After all we were ATTACKED on 9/11 so every tactic in response is appropriate.

 

Even when the subject of the commercials was "humor" instead of drama there was a common thread of "put downs."  It used to be possible to laugh and not have it be at someone else's expense.  That no longer seems to be true.  In every case there was a "winner" and a "looser" in the comedic "battle" as the war theme invaded our humor.

 

Interestingly enough, though, I did not let these thoughts detract from the jovial mood that was present at the UN during the game.  I simply noted these trends, accepted that this is the way the world works today, and moved on.  This is precisely what the Buddhists would recommend and it seems as though, to at least some minor degree, I might be catching on a bit.

 

The game was ok but without a team to root for I was not on the edge of my seat as I used to be when I would live or die by how the 49ers (or OAKLAND Raiders) faired.  I find it amusing that I would put my emotional well-being on the line for such a trivial and meaningless matter.

 

So with the Steelers down by 11 I bet the guy next to me 2:1 beers on them.  I later followed that up with a side bet (also beers) that the Steelers would get at least 1 more interception or fumble recovery than the Packers.  I ended up loosing both bets.

 

The game was pretty fun but I think I got my football fix for another 10-15 years.

Garbage Warriors

Garbage Warriors

 

Last Sunday (1/30) a group of guys from Taos dropped by to finish the Earthship that they had started sometime before my arrival.  These guys are led by their fearless leader, Michael Reynolds, who is the subject of the film, "Garbage Warrior."  Mike has been building homes form tires, plastic bottles and anything else he can get his hands on for quite some time now.  At times he has gone toe to toe with the building authorities losing his architecture license for his efforts (though I think he has it back now).

 

From the start this was a motley, irreverent and at times vulgar crew, but they were also lovable.  They descended upon the scene like a swarm of locusts bringing with them a team of local Haitians to help out.  From the moment they got here, it was asses and elbows everywhere.  I swear I saw sparks fly at times.  They started packing tires with dirt to serve as the foundation for the cistern that would catch water from the roof.  This was then covered with a layer of concrete.  They dug one hole in the ground, lined it with 2 layers of 10 mil plastic sheet and added 3 tires.  After building a domed shape with rebar and wire mesh, the space was covered with a concrete top.  Above the tires they placed a flush toilet that would use grey water.  Like a traditional septic tank, the solids will be contained within the tire chamber and the liquids will seep through the tires and eventually raise high enough to exit through a pipe into 2 more holes they dug.  These were also lined with plastic and then filled with dirt and plants.  This black water system would use the nutrients from the septic tank to feed the plants.  By means of evaporation and transpiration, the liquids will dissipate.

 

The (bucket) shower was roughed out with another batch of rebar and wire mesh, complete with arched entrance.  The main living structure, which already had a concrete ceiling, got a 2 foot layer of bags loaded with plastic bottles to serve as insulation, more rebar and wire mesh and another coat of cement.  The hole in the center of the ceiling was covered with a mushroom structure which uses plastic shingles from the same plastic bottles that are so ubiquitous here in Haiti.

 

Throughout the project, plastic bottles were placed at regular intervals in all of the walls.  These will eventually degrade under the relentless assault of the sun's UV rays but they look really cool for the time being.

 

They landscaped the grounds and when they left it was a very artistic expression of Mike's passion for using whatever garbage is available to create comfortable and pleasing living spaces.  That said, however, I see several problems with their design.  The bottles that decay will leave holes that in many cases will need to be filled.  The mushroom, while quite impressive looking, will fail by any of at least 4 vectors.  The space between the bottom of the mushroom and the hole in the roof is large enough that during a horizontal rain event (i.e. hurricane) it will undoubtedly leak.  When the plastic shingles degrade, the roof will leak during a normal, vertical rain event.  The weight of the mushroom roof, which has concrete sections between the plastic shingles, is way too much for the bare rebar that supports it.  During an earthquake it will shake rattle and roll before crashing down.  And finally, the exposed rebar will eventually rust away until it can no longer support its load.

 

But in the meantime, it looks way cool.

 

 

The US contingent of the crew was pretty interesting.  One night they were on the front portico doing some awesome gymnastic and advanced yoga moves.  One trick they did was to balance on one foot as they lowered themselves low enough to knock over a bic lighter with their nose.  I tried it with a (short) beer bottle and eventually got it, but lost my balance on the way up.

 

Most of the other nights were spent drinking copious amounts of alcohol and teasing each other about their (lack of) manhood.  Lots of politically incorrect stuff that I did not let bother me.  Perhaps it was because they were extremely helpful during the day.  At one point we had a small footer to dig for our front "Galri" (veranda).  One of the guys, affectionately known as salty dog due to his tenure in the navy, came over with their electric jack hammer and with the spade bit broke up enough dirt in 5 minutes to keep our Haitian boys shoveling for the next half hour.  They also offered to help us pour the slab and gave us advice on how to mix our earth plaster.

 

Being either the oldest, or nearly the oldest, person here at GRU (depending on who happens to be here at any moment) it has been at times difficult for me to hook up with many of the kids here, who are mostly in their 20's and 30's.  But I had no problem feeling comfortable around these guys and we all hoped we would meet again down the road.

 

Martin left the same day they did, along with Tim.  But Tina from Canada arrived that same day as well and she's a pip.  She's a plaster expert with her own natural building company and has been here before.  That was made clear by the warm reception she received from many of the folks who had met her on her first trip.  She's got a lot of energy and fits in well with our otherwise all-male crew.  I look forward to working with and learning from her.

 

The house is progressing well and ready for a growth spurt.  The window shutters are up and after only one day most of the final coat of plaster has been applied to the exterior.  I'll start tomorrow putting up the posts and beam for the galri and within a couple of days it should be done.  By that time the final plaster coat will be completed on the exterior and we'll be looking for things to do while we wait for the cob floor to dry before going back inside for the final interior plaster coat, the final earth floor layer and the bamboo dividing wall.

 

Will try and get some pictures posted if I can get access to a mac for a bit.

Ob-la-di Ob-la-da, life goes on

Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, life goes on….

 

When I was in Pakistan I had trouble with my computer and after a couple of weeks it crashed and died.  I hauled the dead thing all over India and when I got back to the states I managed to get it functional again (after a huge amount of effort and stress).  And even though it was a new computer and still fully covered by the manufacturer's warranty , it still cost me $500 to get it working (long story).

 

With all that behind me I brought "Phoenix`" with me to Haiti and all was well until last Thurs. when someone entered the office that Martin and I use and took both of our computers, as well as Martin's blackberry.

 

So here I am, typing on another borrowed computer as I wonder what this computer karma is all about.  As an added challenge, every computer I have used when mine has been unavailable has been subject to the same glitch.  The cursor will spontaneously jump to some random location and begin inserting my text there.  This is not a rare event.  I'm lucky if I can type a single sentence without it happening at least once.

 

But enough of my whining.  I had backed up my data just 3 days prior to the theft so I did not loose much.

 

Which is not to say I did not loose anything of importance.  I did loose all of the photos and video of a wonderful day we had in Kenscoff on Sunday, 1-23.  But I'm getting ahead of myself….

 

A few days prior to the Kenscoff trip a couple of Martin's friends dropped by.  Tim Owen-Kennedy is a natural builder and designer from Ukiah, Ca. with decades of experience.  He also knows a lot about various aspects of permaculture and is otherwise a wealth of interesting information.  His traveling companion is Bruce King who wrote the book on straw bale building.  Literally, it's called, "The Design of Straw Bale Buildings."  He's also written, "Buildings of Earth and Straw", "Making Better Concrete" and "The International Standard for Earthen Buildings."  Between the 2 of them and Martin, I was soaking up a lot of good information during our discussions.

 

Martin had planned a day for them but before they headed I joined them for breakfast.  While talking about bamboo connections and other geeky stuff Martin made contact with Regine, a Haitian architect he knows.  She was headed up to see her friend Jane Wynne who has a place where she grows several varieties of bamboo.

 

So plans were changed and soon we were headed up the hill to Kenscoff.

 

The journey took the better part of an hour and as we climbed the hill the temperature dropped by 10 degrees.  I found myself more comfortable than I had ever been since arriving in Haiti 3 weeks prior.

 

When we arrived we were let in the gate by Frank, a Haitian who I learned later had lived in New York City for several years.  We met Jane, who is a wonderful, half-Haitian woman with an effusive sense of hospitality.  It wasn't long before we were on her front porch drinking tea with Coleen, a friend of hers who had brought Marika, her precocious 8 year old daughter with her.

 

The place where Jane lives was bought by her American father who had a vision that included growing several varieties of bamboo.  After tea Marika led us on a tour of the grounds, an acre or more of lush greenery with surprises around most every bend.  Tim was our bamboo expert and explained the difference between the outer, structural part of the bamboo and the inner part that insects love.  He pointed out that these varieties could grow up to a foot in a single day and that when the first shoot comes up you can put a wooden box around it and force the bamboo to grow in a rectangular shape.  Or any other, depending on the shape of the box one uses.

 

Square bamboo.  What a concept.

 

Later, back on the porch Martin was thinking about getting back to his plan for the day when lunch appeared.  Soon after that Frank started playing his flute (bamboo of course) and was joined on the congo drum by his good friend, Willy Lee.  As the music and singing began, Martin's plan became just another unrealized thought.

 

This was when I pulled out my camera and after a few stills, started shooting some video.  Marika, however, had other ideas and put her beautiful chocolate brown face directly in front of my camera and made faces.  It was precious and it's a shame I lost it all.

 

Frank and Willy Lee were joined by Coleen on the guitar with her beautiful voice.  Tim took a turn with the guitar as more neighbors dropped by to join in on the fun.  Pretty soon the porch was full of folks either playing, singing or dancing.  Marika finally grew tired of primping herself in front of my camera and I was able to get some great shots of the scene for the better part of an hour that have now been lost forever.  When the battery finally gave up the ghost I put the camera down and started dancing myself.  I had a great time doing so but this time I had to cut it short as my heart, for the first time since my ablation in May, started giving me some atrial fibrillation problems.  I sat down, concentrated on my breathing and hoped I would not get shocked by my defibrillator since it probably would have put quite a damper on the party.

 

My heart calmed down though and I was able to enjoy the rest of the afternoon without incident.  But the event has caused me to consider a re-do of the ablation, something I was warned about when I had the first one.

 

Just before leaving I asked Jane if I could use her bathroom.  Because she lives in a house that is 100 years old, and is in Haiti, everything does not work perfectly.  She said I would need to fill the toilet with water from the bathtub using the bucket she has there for that purpose.  When I did, the water spilled out of the tank and onto the floor (I guess I should have put it directly in the bowl).  I spent the next 15 minutes mopping up the mess.

 

But the incident gave me an idea.

 

When I re-emerged folks were just saying their good-byes.  I gave and received many hugs and I knew that I had finally found my tribe in Haiti.

 

Jane had mentioned that she was coming down to Port au Prince on Tues. and when she did I presented the idea that was hatched in her bathroom a couple of days prior.  I said that I was extending my stay in Haiti and that I would like to add a week at the end to come back to her place so I could fix her bathroom plumbing.  Jane thought this was a fabulous idea so I will now leave Haiti on March 2^nd.  This should allow enough time to finish the straw bale building and allow another week to help Jane out and hang with some great folks.

 

 

 

 

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.

10 Day Retreat

10 Day Retreat

After getting settled in Pakistan, I got on the internet to begin planning my trip through India. I knew that I would start in Udaipur where I had a connection from someone I had met in California and I also knew that I wanted to find a 10 day meditation retreat I could attend at the end of November, just before returning to the states on Dec. 1. My search led me to a meditation course as taught by S.M. Goenka at his Vipassana meditation center in Bodh Gaya (one of over 120 such centers worldwide). The course would start on Nov. 16th and end on Nov. 27th, giving me a few days to get back to Delhi for my flight home. I was delighted as the timing seemed perfect. It was only after deciding to attend this retreat that I discovered Bodh Gaya is where Siddhartha Gautama sat under a sacred fig tree now known as the Bodhi tree and became enlightened 2500 years ago. After his enlightenment he became known as, "The Buddha" which is a title that means, "The Enlightened One" or "The Awakened One." The tree that now resides there is also referred to as the Bodhi tree and is believed to be a direct descendant of the original.

I do not consider Buddhism a religion. There are no Gods and no beliefs that must be followed. In fact, one is encouraged to question everything that is claimed in any of the Buddhist teachings (the Dharma). This is extremely satisfying to my questioning, rational, perhaps over-rational mind and quite different from my (very brief) excursion into Christianity many years ago.

The central teachings of Buddhism are described by the 4 Noble Truths:

1) To live is to suffer
2) Suffering arises from attachment and aversion
3) There is a way of living that can lead to the end of suffering
4) That way is the eightfold path

The eightfold path that can lead to enlightenment is:

1) Right view
2) Right intention
3) Right speech
4) Right action
5) Right livelihood
6) Right effort
7) Right mindfulness
8) Right concentration

I find all of this imminently reasonable, particularly since I am encouraged to discover these truths for myself through the art of meditation.

I do meditate from time to time, but not very consistently nor nearly as often as those who are more serious. And my meditation is not very directed, aimed merely at trying to quiet my restless or "monkey" mind or at least to observe it in this chaotic state.

The goal of this Vipassana meditation course is to teach a more rigorous method of meditation. The teaching begins with an instruction by Herr Goenka via cassette tapes to concentrate on the area of our upper lip, the entrance to our nostrils and the nasal cavity up to the bridge of our nose. For the first 3 days we spent the entire 10+ hours of meditation trying to focus our attention on this small area that was reduced in size to only the upper lip and entrance to the nostrils on the 3rd day.

With the pain in my neck, shoulders, back, butt, legs, knees, ankles and feet (did I forget somewhere?) and my incessant monkey mind, this was not an easy task for me. But I did my best and occasionally I would hit a stretch of a minute or 2 in which my concentration would remain relatively unbroken. I could discern some subtle sensations that would ordinarily go unnoticed, such as the swaying of my nose hairs as I breathed in or out and the difference between the cool dry air coming in and the warm moist air going out.

The next step was to use this same tool of focused concentration to scan the entire body. This seemed a bit like using a dental tool to clean the Taj Mahal, but again I tried my best. We were told to start with an alert, calm, quiet, attentive mind of perfect equanimity. I remember thinking that if I could start with all of that, I wouldn't need to take this stupid course. We were told to choicelessly observe any sensation (pain, itching, vibration, tingling, etc.) as well as any reaction (such as attachment or aversion) to any of these. Again and again this idea of choiceless observation with a mind of perfect equanimity was stressed. We are told that it is not due to any external stimuli that we experience joy or sorrow, that it is due instead to our reactions of attachment or aversion to these stimuli that cause these feelings. We are told that ultimately it is within our power to cease such biased observation and that we can move instead into a place of perfect equanimity where we neither crave nor fear anything and instead simply see the world as it is. It is through the practice of meditation that this truth can be experienced. In this way, Buddhism is the ultimate in personal responsibility.

It is extremely difficult for me to purge my mind of the extraneous thoughts that constitute most of my thinking. But hour after hour I tried and occasionally I would find myself settled into what I call "the quiet zone." But I would not be conscious of this while it was occurring. Rather, it was only when the spurious conscious thought that I had just BEEN in a very quiet and peaceful place would enter my head that I would realize that some version of "me" HAD been quiet up until that point. But with the thought of it, it was gone. This touches on the idea of who/what is "me" and comes up a lot in Buddhism. It is one of the central conundrums that must be investigated.

One interesting experience involved my sitting neighbor to my right (we had assigned seating). He was an Indian looking fellow (dark skinned) and occasionally, from a disturbance deep within his gastro-intestinal tract, he would emit an explosion of gas that was accompanied by a sound that was part bull frog and part elephant seal. The dimensions of this "burp" were so astounding that were adolescent boys intent on out burping each other to be in his presence during one of his eruptions, they would instinctively bow down as humble novices to their new master. I'm sure that everyone else in the meditation hall was as astounded by Mr. Burpie's outbursts, which were a daily occurrence, as I was. Because I was sitting directly next to him I suspect that the vibrational rush ordered up from deep within my being in response was perhaps more pronounced for me than it was for most. Regardless, I discovered after my first few exposures that my body no longer responded in this manner and would remain quite undisturbed by the event. I believe my response changed from one of shock to one of much greater equanimity, much like we were instructed to try and cultivate. But in this case, "I" did not create this equanimity, it simply appeared.

Perhaps that is how it comes about. Any striving to cultivate wisdom and to incorporate it into my personality is simply an exercise in ego development. Perhaps true wisdom simply grows from a well cultivated garden.
At any rate, I spent the rest of the 10 days trying, with little success, to choicelessly observe my body as I scanned it from head to toe and back again. In the end, it was clear that it would be unrealistic to expect any sort of epiphany from 10 days of instruction. This is a practice that must be used regularly if one expects to benefit from it. And while enlightenment is probably possible at any instant, one should not be surprised if it does not come even after years, and perhaps lifetimes, of sincere practice. But I am currently of the mind that final enlightenment is preceded by a series of steps in that direction, each one helping to extract one from the pain of dukkha (suffering) and each one bringing with it a greater measure of peace, compassion and gratitude. So one need not wait until complete enlightenment occurs to reap benefits from the practice, they will begin to accrue immediately.

Only time will tell if I possess the wisdom necessary to continue this practice.