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| Lam veritab, the Haitian "bread fruit" we ate for dinner tonight. Photo cred: http://www.haitiworld.net/index.php |
The flight from Miami to Port-au-Prince was full of expansive skies and layers of aqua, turquoise and lagoon blue waters. I've never seen so much depth to ocean. The Louisiana bayou has its particular muddy charm, but driving to Montrouis along the coast was like skirting trembling sapphire.
This is a beautiful country.
At Toussaint Louverture International Airport, I was one of the first passengers through customs because I had no checked baggage. I had to leave behind the toaster oven I brought for one of the nurses of Canaan at the airport lost and found because, to my surprise, the US has an embargo on any boxes to Haiti until mid-August. It was disappointing to leave behind the brand new appliance and frustrating, too -- especially because I was delayed 30 minutes simply searching for an official to help me find a place to leave the oven without causing a safety scare!
I boarded my flight to Miami at the last call and as the gates were closing. I was frantic and sweaty when I squeezed into my window seat. After a calming hour layover, I flew to Port-au-Prince next to a chatty Haitian student named Whitney. She's also a 21-year-old studying to pursue a career in medicine.
Whitney gave me an airborne "tour" as we flew over the wounded city -- fleets of white and tarp-blue tents, rusted tin roofs and thick, clay colored rivers. She sounded distant as she recalled how the landscape shifted since the earthquake, almost like she has been estranged from a close friend. She shook her head as we passed the neighborhoods still in ruins, but sighed whenever the gorgeous water framed the turmoil. The wing of the plane seemed to trace the edges of tumbling mountains, draping the landscape in patchy brown and green as we descended.
The driver was late to get the the airport, and I had no problems waiting in the shade until a large Haitian man grabbed me and tried to bring me "to my ride." I asked him who he was with, and he said "for your organization." He obviously was not with Canaan. When I refused, he walked alongside me and demanded a tip until, exasperated, he finally moved on to harassing another passenger.
A very kind British relief worker saw me awkwardly shuffling at the exit of the airport and offered to call Canaan for me. She spoke quick, succinct Creole with one of the staff members find out when my driver was coming. This allowed me to relax and calmly refuse the several taxi drivers who approached me, speaking a melodious jumble of French, English and Creole.
When my ride arrived, I learned quickly why they were late. Traffic in Haiti is unpredictable, and it seemed like there were no rules to the road. Drivers on tap-taps (little trucks with an overhang and benches that serve as crowded taxis) peeled out without warning. Large UN vans barreled treacherously between men on scooters and bicycles. The roads from Port-au-Prince were were rocky and jarring and I was dripping with sweat in the back of Canaan's truck (no AC, no rolled-down windows) for the two-hour drive to Montrouis. I fell asleep for a leg of the trip and woke up with a pool of sweat at the small of my back. Hello, equator!
We had a delicious dinner of Lam veritab, known as "bread fruit," baked with SPAM into a potato-like textured pie, as well as pasta with raisins and green beans. Although my stomach has been upset today from the anxiety of traveling, dinner was fantastic and soothing.
The generators were turned on around 6 as it started to get dark. I'm grateful for Internet access and the opportunity to let my friends and family know I'm happy and safe! I'm getting my mosquito net and bunk set up. Here are some pictures of my cozy setup.
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| The top bunk gets the most breeze, and away from the rats and critters! |
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| My cozy bunk in the female staff house. |
It's been thundering all evening and sprinkling on and off, but I'm enjoying the damp, salty humidity. It's finally hitting me I'm here: this is my home for the next 5 weeks. The rough-looking mutts littering Canaan have started howling, and I'm missing my little German shepherd puppy, Vivienne.
No pictures of Montrouis yet, although there have been so many times today my heart has ached for the camera I shoved, without batteries or a working memory card, in my carry-on. Woops. Those will come soon, though!
Thanks for your prayers! I'm praying for a beneficial transition into life here at Canaan, and hoping I can be used here at the community clinic in wonderful ways.
Bonwi, my friends.
