Crowning Roosters, p 2 of 3
Our group was a motley crew consisting of a nurse, a retiree, an environmental scientist, a pastor, a cable maker, an IT expert, a banker, a personnel officer, a cab driver, and a chemist. Certainly our nurse and IT expert had skills to share that immediately benefited HFC, but what about the rest of us whose skills were not so readily transferred? We were humbled to offer our amateur painting abilities, and found that just being there, seeking common ground, made a difference.
The plane touched down in Port-au-Prince on Saturday afternoon around 1:30pm. Brilliant sunshine, a faint burning-rubber smell, and a lively band greeted us as we exited the plane and crossed the tarmac to the terminal. Bryn Boorman, an intern at HFC from Spokane, WA, met us at the baggage carousel. Bryn has been at the orphanage for two-and-a-half months and will be at HFC through November 2008. Bryn mentors the boys and girls; teaches English and computer; leads a Bible study/youth program; and serves as an immediate contact with US culture for them, even as they teach her about Haitian culture.
Bryn led us through the crowd of local porters to our vehicle for the week, the HFC-owned tap tap. Tap taps are ubiquitous in Port-au-Prince; they usually consist of a brightly painted pick-up truck or mini-bus with seating in the back. The back of the HFC tap tap is enclosed in wire mesh, and the rear door locks from the inside to protect teams like ours or kids from the orphanage when driving. We felt a bit like we were being carted off to prison, but what better way to absorb not only the sights of Haiti, but also the sounds of the streets and smells that included the acrid odor of trash fires, the aroma of food being cooked by vendors, and the clouds of diesel fumes. The ride through the streets of Port-au-Prince was harrowing at first, but later we took it for granted as ‘life in Haiti’. There are virtually no traffic signals, no signs and no traffic cops. The daredevil traffic maneuvering of other drivers was second only to our driver, Lamarre, who more than met their challenge for road dominance, weaving and honking his way between vehicles and pedestrians alike.
The poverty was pervasive, and yet the people went about their business with an air of dignity. We observed many, many roadside vendors, but there was a distinct lack of buyers. A day’s work for them was sitting near their merchandise, whether it was a small cache of fruit or clothes or school supplies, in hopes of a sale. We wondered why these determined people, men and women alike, remained patiently by their displays throughout the day and into the evening. The answer was probably that they had nothing better to do. We marveled at the sheer number of people who filled the streets. In a country of 8 million people, over 2 million live in Port-au-Prince.
Our first stop was at Dr. Jacob Bernard’s office to meet him and his wife, Claudette. Dr. Bernard was raised in Haiti, educated in the U.S., and returned to Haiti to operate HFC along with several other business ventures, including an adoption agency called New Life Link. We stood in the office under flickering lights (electricity is intermittent where it is available, and many people rely on generators) and enjoyed sodas as we tried to come to grips with really being there.
Next, we had our first visit to HFC. A cement wall topped by a roll of razor wire surrounds the 3-story building that houses the girls and New Life Link, and another wall encloses the boys’ house. We accessed the grounds through metal gates and metal doors, always locked and monitored. The walls and locks seemed to be a common security measure in this part of Haiti.
After we dropped off our bags of supplies, we met a group of girls. They approached us with a bit of trepidation, and then quickly embraced us (literally). With a girl or two holding our hands, Bryn led us on a tour of their house, which includes the school. The roof offers an additional activity area and a panoramic view of the surrounding city, a startling transition from ocean to mountains filled with shanties. We crossed the street to visit the boys’ house. When we entered, they were dribbling a basketball, kicking soccer balls (footballs) and rough housing. Their shyness and reserve equaled that of the girls, and they showed little propensity for affection. They politely shook our hands, but their faces really lit up for high fives.
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