Experiencing Haiti.
As we began our descent into the small island nation of Haiti, we were greeted by a small, peaceful fishing village with a small, peaceful harbor. Boats and people moved leisurely through the shallow, pristine waters. The harbor soon gave way to a town. This was town was my first glimpse of life in Haiti. The buildings were huddled together like penguins in a blizzard, with barely any space between them save for the narrow dirt roads that split the somewhat unorganized blocks. The afternoon sun glinted off the haphazardly assembled metal and tarp roofs of each building, a harsh contrast to the shingled and faux thatched ones I had seen in Orlando just hours before. In the claustrophobic streets, ant-sized people walked to-and-fro, with a few bikes and motorcycles. Oddly, there wasn’t a car in sight. Not knowing much about the country, this first impression is what I expected the rest of Haiti to be like; a landmass dotted in villages reminiscent of other Caribbean countries and even Africa, where almost of Haiti’s population can trace their ancestry back to. Boy, was I wrong.
Our plane passed over a large empty plot of land before we hit the runway, and out of the tall weeds and bushes a lone stone cross stuck up out of the ground, cracked, crumbling, and covered in vines. It looked like an ominous warning of things to come. Based on my aforementioned knowledge (or lack thereof) of Haiti, I assumed the worst. This was just another misconception that would be disproven the second we stepped out of Toussaint Louverture International Airport and into the bustling city of Port-au-Prince.
By bustling, I don’t mean New York bustling. The best way I can describe it is like an angry ant hill: hundreds of people and cars going to-and-fro in the cracked, dirty streets. The funny thing about Haitian streets though, there is no such thing as the right-of-way, or redlights for that matter. The few regulatory signs along the road were also seldom recognized. It was pure chaos to those of us that hadn’t already experienced the country or similar places beforehand. This chaos was further complimented by the architecture, a jumbled mess of haphazard-looking buildings made almost entirely of concrete with sheet metal and wooden additions tacked on. Many of them had exposed rebar protruding from the tops of the walls as well, something we would later learn signifies plans to continue construction on another story.
Surprisingly, there were very few signs that the country had been hit by an earthquake and a hurricane a few years prior to our visit. But the effects on the people were still visible. The conditions of the housing, the way refuse was thrown into the streets and left to stagnate in ditches and rivers tells of the country’s crippled infrastructure. The lack of regulations on the roads and buildings, while creating a cityscape that is endlessly interesting to view due to the variety of everything, shows this as well. Our guides told us that the government either doesn’t have the money to spend on such things, or keeps the money for itself due to corruption. Law enforcement is also a problem. As our bus drove down one of Port-au-Prince’s many crowded streets, we saw the first evidence of this: an abandoned police car, seemingly destroyed, sitting in the center of the road near a median. No one had thought to move it, it was just sitting in the middle of the road, surrounded by cars and people going about their daily lives. It looked like it had been that way for a while. For the duration of our stay, we only saw one or two other police vehicles, but these were at least operational, if not in great condition.
From just this little I have told you about the country, Haiti must look like a horrible place to live. Yes, while it is definitely not something many of us americans are accustomed to, with the chaos, heat, and temperamental electricity. But I assure you, it is still somehow a very beautiful place to go to. As I said before, every inch of road presents you with some new sight, like a building painted in some crazy color or pattern, a hand drawn logo, kids playing in the roads, merchants chasing down cars in an attempt to sell their goods, or the hundreds of other little things I noticed on our journey. All of these things combine to make Haiti, a country financially and almost physically destroyed, one of the most alive places I have ever been. And I came to this conclusion before we started to meet the locals.
Every person we met, whether they were young or old, looked happy to be doing whatever they were doing. The kids played hard, not caring if they fell or got a scrape, the adults laughed and joked, some of them even speaking to us in English, though that was rare. Driving near a church presents you with what sounds like a concert; a chorus of a hundred voices singing hymns in French-Creole, the native language of Haiti. Just walking outside of the building we were staying in greeted us with a group of kids who were almost always playing, and when I say almost, I mean 12 hours a day, easily. In conclusion, everyone we met in Haiti seemed content to just be alive and able to make the most out of every moment available to them.
This is something a lot of us don’t experience. With how easy many of our lives are due to constant electricity, reliable internet, and a well-functioning government that doesn’t encourage riots and protests against itself, many of us don’t feel the need to make the most out of every moment. We are content to sit and enjoy the things we take for granted; television, computers, steady income, leisure time. Going to Haiti will teach you to appreciate this things so much more, and I believe that once you look past all of the bad things you’ve seen/heard about the country, experiencing Haiti for the way it really is will change your life. I know it did for our group.
Written by Gavin Driggers
