One of my student leaders pointed me to an article about how Ryan Reynolds is not a movie star. The article is about who is and isn't famous (and why), but also a commentary about fame. Unfortunately, the article loses steam and the sports analogies are apt but distracting.
Actually, I don't think the rules have changed. Most films are crappy. Being famous is not a guarantee of success. The best actors and actresses are generally given supporting roles (William H. Macy), and only star in indie films. Actors aren't under contract, as they were up until the late forties or early fifties (I think), but still a studio banks big on a name for most movies. The number of theaters a movie opens in, which strongly correlates to box office take, usually depends on the actors involved. Occasionally there's some "buzz" generated.
I no longer have a TV feed, and with Pandora, I never listen to ads on the radio, so I honestly don't know what's playing or coming out. I used to read IMDb news every day, but they switched formats and linked out everything and put stuff behind their paywall, and as a result I lost interest. I'm still a movie fan, but Netflix suggestions are usually pretty on-target (although Netflix thinks I like horror movies and even has that as a category it prompts me to). I have unintentionally insulated myself from most commercial media, but I don't really mind.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Sunday, September 4, 2011
K-Pax
I've been meaning to see K-Pax, a film with Kevin Spacey and Jeff Bridges, since it first came out. It's ostensibly based on a novel, but the parallels between K-Pax and Man Facing Southeast are unavoidable, although apparently legal action was dropped.
Man Facing Southeast is an Argentinian film from 1986, and I saw it for the first time a few years later. Wow, 25 years old now. The story in both is that a man in a mental institution claims to be an alien, despite being completely human. No laser, no special powers, maybe a little off the charts, but no obvious signs of being an alien. In both, the man is exceptionally intelligent and a polymath.
In both films, the alien (Prot in K-Pax, Rantes in Man Facing Southeast) spends his time in the mental institution performing miraculous (but not scientifically impossible) interventions with patients while showing talent in art, science, and math far beyond what would be normal. In both, the psychiatrist in charge is intrigued enough to get personally involved.
While Man Facing Southeast leave the ambiguity in place, K-Pax attempts to reconcile the ambiguity with an obvious and trite explanation, which leads to a personal reconciliation for Bridges' character and his son. Bridges and Spacey are charismatic actors, but the last part of the film gets tiring and has what amounts to a boring and indefensible climax/conclusion. It was as though the writer could make up his mind about the central plot point, so produced two endings and interleaved them.
There is an explanation for this. One of South America's strongest literary traditions is magic realism, which is similar to science fiction and fantasy, but not quite the same. In books by Borges or Marquez, the world is altered to account for something exceptional and inexplicable. No justification or explanation is offered. In the US, we have a strong sci-fi/fantasy tradition, but it has to be explained: think about X-Men or Heroes, in which superpowers are explained in evolutionary terms.
Man Facing Southeast doesn't directly address the tension of the is-he/isn't-he question. We're intentionally left unsatisfied, because in reality, any satisfying answer would act as a trick ending to be guessed. Think The Sixth Sense, which worked well, but made every subsequent film by Shyamalam a guessing game and a yawner.
What could I have done differently? I could have rewatched Man Facing Southeast, or just watched a different movie altogether. Still, I'm glad that I watched it; Bridges and Spacey are great actors; although their chemistry in this film was not ideal, they were still fun to watch. I could also have accepted what I knew would be true, which is that K-Pax would explain itself to us and answer any question it proposed. It's not a painful thing to do if you are anticipating it, and if you aren't holding the film up to the unrealistic measure of a very artistic that was an exceptional success (artistically) and a personal favorite. The similarities may be too striking to discount, but they didn't have to make the experience painful. I often find myself not having fun at my own expense (in situations like these); no one wins, and I end up losing. I know that this is shocking if you know me, but I think I might be able to periodically overthink things a bit. Just a bit.
Man Facing Southeast is an Argentinian film from 1986, and I saw it for the first time a few years later. Wow, 25 years old now. The story in both is that a man in a mental institution claims to be an alien, despite being completely human. No laser, no special powers, maybe a little off the charts, but no obvious signs of being an alien. In both, the man is exceptionally intelligent and a polymath.
In both films, the alien (Prot in K-Pax, Rantes in Man Facing Southeast) spends his time in the mental institution performing miraculous (but not scientifically impossible) interventions with patients while showing talent in art, science, and math far beyond what would be normal. In both, the psychiatrist in charge is intrigued enough to get personally involved.
While Man Facing Southeast leave the ambiguity in place, K-Pax attempts to reconcile the ambiguity with an obvious and trite explanation, which leads to a personal reconciliation for Bridges' character and his son. Bridges and Spacey are charismatic actors, but the last part of the film gets tiring and has what amounts to a boring and indefensible climax/conclusion. It was as though the writer could make up his mind about the central plot point, so produced two endings and interleaved them.
There is an explanation for this. One of South America's strongest literary traditions is magic realism, which is similar to science fiction and fantasy, but not quite the same. In books by Borges or Marquez, the world is altered to account for something exceptional and inexplicable. No justification or explanation is offered. In the US, we have a strong sci-fi/fantasy tradition, but it has to be explained: think about X-Men or Heroes, in which superpowers are explained in evolutionary terms.
Man Facing Southeast doesn't directly address the tension of the is-he/isn't-he question. We're intentionally left unsatisfied, because in reality, any satisfying answer would act as a trick ending to be guessed. Think The Sixth Sense, which worked well, but made every subsequent film by Shyamalam a guessing game and a yawner.
What could I have done differently? I could have rewatched Man Facing Southeast, or just watched a different movie altogether. Still, I'm glad that I watched it; Bridges and Spacey are great actors; although their chemistry in this film was not ideal, they were still fun to watch. I could also have accepted what I knew would be true, which is that K-Pax would explain itself to us and answer any question it proposed. It's not a painful thing to do if you are anticipating it, and if you aren't holding the film up to the unrealistic measure of a very artistic that was an exceptional success (artistically) and a personal favorite. The similarities may be too striking to discount, but they didn't have to make the experience painful. I often find myself not having fun at my own expense (in situations like these); no one wins, and I end up losing. I know that this is shocking if you know me, but I think I might be able to periodically overthink things a bit. Just a bit.
Hadewijch by Bruno Dumont
I will start this by saying that I've never liked Bruno Dumont's films. They strive for greatness but end up being a mix of confusion and pedestrianism. My first exposure to Dumont was Twentynine Palms. I was excited to see that film, but it went nowhere and offered no insight into the characters. Was it plot-driven, rather than character-drive? That would have required a plot.
In Hadewijch, we meet a young nun about to be thrown out of the convent because of what is ostensibly her religious zeal, but is really because she's a conceited behavior problem. She has isolated herself from the world because she's bat-shit crazy, not because she is really passionate about religion. We never gain any insight into her religious fervor, but that's not surprising, since we never learn anything about her. Per the rules of French cinema, she prays in a slurred whisper with occasional sharp consonants, and since she's mostly babbling, the translators chose not to subtitle much of it.
After the convent, she runs to a shrine, cries a bit, and then heads home to Paris and her family. She barely interacts with her parents, is supposedly in school studying theology (although we never see her in school or studying). She is invited by several young Muslim men to join them for a drink and then a concert. One of the young men makes a pass at her, which she blows off. This is significant. Really, it is. Sure. Yawn.
Through the young man, she meets his brother, an older man who acts as a lay theologian for a poor, public-housing group of Muslims. He invites her to one of her theological discussions (think Bible study, but a bit more didactic and abstract). She wasn't wearing a bra, and one of her fellow classmates openly gawked at her breasts through her thin shirt. This upset her, she later explains, because she only loves Christ.
In continuing the non-sequitor that is Hadewijch, she's now recruited to travel to some Muslim country, perhaps Lebanon, perhaps Palestine; regardless, it has just been bombed. Dumont is a master of indirection: he never says "the Jews did this", but the idea hangs heavy in the air. Celine's character now decides to become a terrorist, commit a terrorist bombing in Paris, and then feel really, really bad about it. Cue dramatic music, an attempted Ophelia-style suicide, and a rescue by a hero, and close curtains.
Honestly, I found the movie xenophobic. The Muslims are all unemployed and uneducated, and apparently by the time you've met your second French Muslim, you're now in the world of international Islamist terror. Celine's savior is a Frenchman, a habitual criminal who spends most of the film's timeline in jail for a parole violation, but hey, he's employed and presumably Christian.
This could have been a good film about the dangers of religious fervor, but it wasn't that. The nuns are straight out of The Sound of Music, and the only other religious people (two Muslims and Celine) end up being terrorists.
What could I have done to make this a better experience? I think I should have read some reviews from more insightful reviewers. Perhaps I'm just missing something. I should also NOT have gone in with the thought "I'm seeing a film by a terrible director". I don't know that I would have enjoyed the film more, but I doubt I would have enjoyed it less.
Am I glad I went? Yes. Dumont has style and panache that are unique to French film. He does go in for languid shots of inaction, but his cinematographer is excellent. Even if this were a parody of recent French film (and it seemed like that at times), it was a good parody.
In Hadewijch, we meet a young nun about to be thrown out of the convent because of what is ostensibly her religious zeal, but is really because she's a conceited behavior problem. She has isolated herself from the world because she's bat-shit crazy, not because she is really passionate about religion. We never gain any insight into her religious fervor, but that's not surprising, since we never learn anything about her. Per the rules of French cinema, she prays in a slurred whisper with occasional sharp consonants, and since she's mostly babbling, the translators chose not to subtitle much of it.
After the convent, she runs to a shrine, cries a bit, and then heads home to Paris and her family. She barely interacts with her parents, is supposedly in school studying theology (although we never see her in school or studying). She is invited by several young Muslim men to join them for a drink and then a concert. One of the young men makes a pass at her, which she blows off. This is significant. Really, it is. Sure. Yawn.
Through the young man, she meets his brother, an older man who acts as a lay theologian for a poor, public-housing group of Muslims. He invites her to one of her theological discussions (think Bible study, but a bit more didactic and abstract). She wasn't wearing a bra, and one of her fellow classmates openly gawked at her breasts through her thin shirt. This upset her, she later explains, because she only loves Christ.
In continuing the non-sequitor that is Hadewijch, she's now recruited to travel to some Muslim country, perhaps Lebanon, perhaps Palestine; regardless, it has just been bombed. Dumont is a master of indirection: he never says "the Jews did this", but the idea hangs heavy in the air. Celine's character now decides to become a terrorist, commit a terrorist bombing in Paris, and then feel really, really bad about it. Cue dramatic music, an attempted Ophelia-style suicide, and a rescue by a hero, and close curtains.
Honestly, I found the movie xenophobic. The Muslims are all unemployed and uneducated, and apparently by the time you've met your second French Muslim, you're now in the world of international Islamist terror. Celine's savior is a Frenchman, a habitual criminal who spends most of the film's timeline in jail for a parole violation, but hey, he's employed and presumably Christian.
This could have been a good film about the dangers of religious fervor, but it wasn't that. The nuns are straight out of The Sound of Music, and the only other religious people (two Muslims and Celine) end up being terrorists.
What could I have done to make this a better experience? I think I should have read some reviews from more insightful reviewers. Perhaps I'm just missing something. I should also NOT have gone in with the thought "I'm seeing a film by a terrible director". I don't know that I would have enjoyed the film more, but I doubt I would have enjoyed it less.
Am I glad I went? Yes. Dumont has style and panache that are unique to French film. He does go in for languid shots of inaction, but his cinematographer is excellent. Even if this were a parody of recent French film (and it seemed like that at times), it was a good parody.
Week 2 of Classes Done
After a full two weeks of Fall Semester at UNC Charlotte, I'm in a happy state of exhaustion and appreciative of the extra day off.
ITCS 1600 is going well. The students seem to be responding to the material we're covering; they understand what is expected of them, and to some extent the "why" of what we expect of them. What I have yet to figure out is how to track student progress on a reasonable sliding metric; this became particularly apparent when Evie Powell told me that only about half of my students had signed up for Snag'Em, and of those only 8 had completed the initial survey. Getting direct info from Evie on the location of the survey seemed to help, but in the future I would ask Evie to delete my account, or create one with a different email, in order to refamiliarize myself with the process. It's not that the link is hidden, but I can see the cause of the confusion.
ITCS 1600 is going well. The students seem to be responding to the material we're covering; they understand what is expected of them, and to some extent the "why" of what we expect of them. What I have yet to figure out is how to track student progress on a reasonable sliding metric; this became particularly apparent when Evie Powell told me that only about half of my students had signed up for Snag'Em, and of those only 8 had completed the initial survey. Getting direct info from Evie on the location of the survey seemed to help, but in the future I would ask Evie to delete my account, or create one with a different email, in order to refamiliarize myself with the process. It's not that the link is hidden, but I can see the cause of the confusion.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Catching up with depeche mode
I'm remiss in my posting, but in my defense it's been a hectic couple of weeks. Fortunately, I've been able to take today to catch up on email, twitter, blogging, and news.
The biggest new in my world is that my class, ITCS 1600 - Computing Professionals, has started. We're just over halfway through the first team meetings. The groups are diverse; the learning community and the transfer students have very different needs and concerns.
This week's lecture was one I actually gave, and it was, as always, a mix of success and opportunities for improvement. One thing that went well was that students did respond to the idea that they are responsible for developing their identity and they seemed to understand that the class is about teaching them how a successful student operates at UNC Charlotte. I offered them an option: I would pay lots of attention to them in exchange for just $20,000, about half the difference in price between UNC Charlotte and a private school; none of them took me up on the offer. One thing that didn't go well was that I had underplanned the preparation for the blogs, the forum, and the description of the Engagement Scavenger Hunt; fortunately, my trusty TA, Ryan Marsh, was able to backfill much of this information, but the issue with student confusion over the Scavenger Hunt is concerning me. Before I run this class again, I will probably poll some students about what confused them, although I will wait to do this until they have a couple of weeks of activity. I need to make sure that students are making progress on the Scavenger Hunt, so I will rely on my TAs for reports. I really hope that we will have a high number who clock at least one hour this week.
The biggest new in my world is that my class, ITCS 1600 - Computing Professionals, has started. We're just over halfway through the first team meetings. The groups are diverse; the learning community and the transfer students have very different needs and concerns.
This week's lecture was one I actually gave, and it was, as always, a mix of success and opportunities for improvement. One thing that went well was that students did respond to the idea that they are responsible for developing their identity and they seemed to understand that the class is about teaching them how a successful student operates at UNC Charlotte. I offered them an option: I would pay lots of attention to them in exchange for just $20,000, about half the difference in price between UNC Charlotte and a private school; none of them took me up on the offer. One thing that didn't go well was that I had underplanned the preparation for the blogs, the forum, and the description of the Engagement Scavenger Hunt; fortunately, my trusty TA, Ryan Marsh, was able to backfill much of this information, but the issue with student confusion over the Scavenger Hunt is concerning me. Before I run this class again, I will probably poll some students about what confused them, although I will wait to do this until they have a couple of weeks of activity. I need to make sure that students are making progress on the Scavenger Hunt, so I will rely on my TAs for reports. I really hope that we will have a high number who clock at least one hour this week.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Active Teaching and Learning Workshop
On Tuesday, August 9, 2011, from 09:00AM-10:15AM, I attended a workshop on Active Teaching and Learning taught by Drs. Nancy Cooke and Jaesoon An. One thing that I learned was about using color-coded response cards for large-class engagement. Unfortunately, many engagement techniques are not appropriate for large classrooms, so what I would do in the future is discuss the problem with the workshop leaders before the workshop.
Engaging Millenial Students
On Thursday, August 11, 2011, I attended a workshop on Engaging Millenial Students, taught by Dr. Nancy Cooke, Faculty Fellow at UNC Charlotte. One thing that went well was that I learned from a video about how millenial college students prioritize. One thing that didn't go well was that I was expecting to learn about cultural touchstones of millenials, sort of the opposite of the Beloit List. One thing I would do differently is find and watch some media that are important to millenials; I suppose I would in a sense be paid to watch movies and TV!
Motivating Students Workshop
On Thursday, August 11, 20111, I attended a workshop entitled Motivating Students, taught by Faculty Fellow Dr. Concepcion Godev. The best part of the workshop was learning how other faculty get students motivated, including using high energy, passion, and topic expertise. One thing that didn't go well was that I was that I haven't yet experimented with different styles or looked at my own teaching critically. Before attending another session on the topic, I would like to find and read more about student engagement techniques to take full advantage of the workshop, but I don't yet have reading resources, so I will contact Dr. Godev.
Monday, August 8, 2011
STARS Leadership Celebration
I'm in Raleigh participating in the STARS Leadership Celebration, a conference to coordinate and share information about developing student technology leadership. I've meet a lot of interesting people (including Professor George Thiruvathukal) and had some great discussions. More here later; you can follow me @DrGrossUNCC.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Initial Reflection
If you had told me a month ago that I would be going to a third-world country, I wouldn't have believed you. I was in the middle from the California coast to Charlotte, North Carolina, a modest move of 2,500 miles. I was tired, having rapidly closed my semester at CSUMB, and starting a new job at UNC Charlotte.
If you had told me that I would find something important for me personally in Haiti, especially Tovar and Milot, I would have had you hospitalized. I've seen the pictures of Haiti, and if you are reading this, you probably have, too. In the photos, it's dirty, and that's not wrong (especially Cap Haitien, aka Okap in Creole). The houses are dilapidated shacks, and they often are. There's little functioning economy and people just hope to scrape by, and that's true as well.
So why am I already trying to plan my next trip? I'm already thinking of times to visit Port au Prince; Adam told me about Grassroots United, a group that has a facility for volunteers working in Port au Prince; it's $15 a night, and you bring your own tent. They don't even have dorms, but they have wireless internet; can I just say that as a technologist I find that perfectly charming? And yes, yes, they have showers and potable water and security.
The answer is twofold: people and opportunity. Every travel blogger/voluntourist/etc. talks about the wonderful people they meet, which leads me to believe that the world is full of wonderful people. I do really like the Haitians I've met, but I won't go on about their generosity and hospitality, although they certainly have them in spades.
The people of Haiti are amazing, but still a mystery to me. What should be cognitive dissonance turns out to represent a precarious balance in a precarious situation, and how they do it is something that may take a lifetime to understand. Haitians are generally poor. They are used to seeing NGOs and voluntourists and aid workers and missionaries, and they are appreciative, but they are still poor. However, poverty does not equal despair; they're just as happy as Americans (if not more so, since we are a morose bunch). Poverty also does not equal shame, although they have a legitimate complaint (voiced loudly, but never violently) when an American takes a picture of, for example, an overloaded taptap. Poverty does not equal homogeneity; Haitians are as different from one another as Americans, although it seems that all of these people have pride in their history and country. I would say that the one universal theme that pervades all of the people we met is hope for the future. The Haitians don't want another handout; while they graciously accept the help of NGOs, missionaries, and others, they want to do it themselves.
There are no simple solutions to Haiti's problems. Creating a native economy is a challenge faced by other (and better organized) states, and we can't just try to replicate what India did; Haiti is its own country with its own history and culture. What we can do is what we're good at (as scientists), which is experimenting. We have many protocols in place to ensure that risk to persons is minimized, and we always ground ourselves in theories that predict positive outcomes. We know that Haiti is not a toy or piece of lab equipment, but without experimentation, we're unlikely to find something that works.
It's absolutely essential that this "we" include Haitians. American academia cannot just come in and say "this is how we will do it". I hope to create partnerships with Haitians, not just because hey, it's their country, but because I believe the following about working with and for Haitians: first, it's their culture, second, it's necessary to create sustainable models, and third, because I'm selfish. Yes, you read that right, I'm selfish. I want to get out of this more than I put in, which is one mantra of science. I want at least some of the knowledge they have, I want to learn about the alien world they inhabit between feudalism and postmodernity, and I want to be more than another helping hand, a do-gooder who doesn't leave behind a legacy. I don't care if my name is remembered, but I do want things that will last beyond my trips and beyond even my life.
It's rare that someone blogs about both Martin Buber and the criticality of small-business startups making profit, but I'm going to try. Buber was a German social philosopher whose work can be in part boiled down to the phrase, "all real life is meeting". What is important is interaction; without it, what would science be, and how could we communicate our findings? If we can make the right connections, we can see what can be done.
If you had told me that I would find something important for me personally in Haiti, especially Tovar and Milot, I would have had you hospitalized. I've seen the pictures of Haiti, and if you are reading this, you probably have, too. In the photos, it's dirty, and that's not wrong (especially Cap Haitien, aka Okap in Creole). The houses are dilapidated shacks, and they often are. There's little functioning economy and people just hope to scrape by, and that's true as well.
So why am I already trying to plan my next trip? I'm already thinking of times to visit Port au Prince; Adam told me about Grassroots United, a group that has a facility for volunteers working in Port au Prince; it's $15 a night, and you bring your own tent. They don't even have dorms, but they have wireless internet; can I just say that as a technologist I find that perfectly charming? And yes, yes, they have showers and potable water and security.
The answer is twofold: people and opportunity. Every travel blogger/voluntourist/etc. talks about the wonderful people they meet, which leads me to believe that the world is full of wonderful people. I do really like the Haitians I've met, but I won't go on about their generosity and hospitality, although they certainly have them in spades.
The people of Haiti are amazing, but still a mystery to me. What should be cognitive dissonance turns out to represent a precarious balance in a precarious situation, and how they do it is something that may take a lifetime to understand. Haitians are generally poor. They are used to seeing NGOs and voluntourists and aid workers and missionaries, and they are appreciative, but they are still poor. However, poverty does not equal despair; they're just as happy as Americans (if not more so, since we are a morose bunch). Poverty also does not equal shame, although they have a legitimate complaint (voiced loudly, but never violently) when an American takes a picture of, for example, an overloaded taptap. Poverty does not equal homogeneity; Haitians are as different from one another as Americans, although it seems that all of these people have pride in their history and country. I would say that the one universal theme that pervades all of the people we met is hope for the future. The Haitians don't want another handout; while they graciously accept the help of NGOs, missionaries, and others, they want to do it themselves.
There are no simple solutions to Haiti's problems. Creating a native economy is a challenge faced by other (and better organized) states, and we can't just try to replicate what India did; Haiti is its own country with its own history and culture. What we can do is what we're good at (as scientists), which is experimenting. We have many protocols in place to ensure that risk to persons is minimized, and we always ground ourselves in theories that predict positive outcomes. We know that Haiti is not a toy or piece of lab equipment, but without experimentation, we're unlikely to find something that works.
It's absolutely essential that this "we" include Haitians. American academia cannot just come in and say "this is how we will do it". I hope to create partnerships with Haitians, not just because hey, it's their country, but because I believe the following about working with and for Haitians: first, it's their culture, second, it's necessary to create sustainable models, and third, because I'm selfish. Yes, you read that right, I'm selfish. I want to get out of this more than I put in, which is one mantra of science. I want at least some of the knowledge they have, I want to learn about the alien world they inhabit between feudalism and postmodernity, and I want to be more than another helping hand, a do-gooder who doesn't leave behind a legacy. I don't care if my name is remembered, but I do want things that will last beyond my trips and beyond even my life.
It's rare that someone blogs about both Martin Buber and the criticality of small-business startups making profit, but I'm going to try. Buber was a German social philosopher whose work can be in part boiled down to the phrase, "all real life is meeting". What is important is interaction; without it, what would science be, and how could we communicate our findings? If we can make the right connections, we can see what can be done.
Opening a Bank Account in Haiti
We had two final tasks to accomplish before returning to the hotel for our last night. The first was to get some souvenirs at the tourist market, and the second was to open a bank account.
Opening a bank account in Haiti is odd, and would have been impossible without Bernard. UMCOR and Providence Methodist have an existing relationship with a Haitian bank that allows them to do international wire transfers for a low cost, so I opened an account with them. It's a personal account for me, not a UNC Charlotte account.
We started out by going to get photos taken. An international account needs two people to be opened, so both Bernard and I had to get our picture taken. When I saw it, I realized how haggard I look. There was an adorable little girl (maybe two?) who would peek at me, smile, and then hide; we played this game while Bernard and I waited for the photos to be printed.
An odd realization occurred to me when I saw Bernard pay for the photos (I paid him back); we (SLC folks) came to Haiti with precisely the wrong cash. The amounts were correct, but the bills were terrible. We think of a twenty dollar bill as an effective balance between high value and spendability, but that's not true in Haiti. Almost no one can make change; even the hotel gives us a hard time. What we should have done is changed money regularly into small bills (25, 50, and 100 goud, equivalent to thirty cents, sixty cents, and $1.20) would have upped our bargaining power, made transactions easier, and cost us significantly less. If you pay in US bills, you pay tourist prices; if you pay in goud, you pay less. This isn't true at the hotel or the Digicel store, but everywhere else it's true.
After the photos, we went to the bank. There is no line; people come in and sit down to wait for the next teller. Bernard put on his best BMOC attitude and got us started on the forms. Rather than fill out the entire form, we passed the form back and forth, filling out one section at a time. I couldn't even remotely follow the Creole involved. I deposited $20, filled out a signature card, and voila, I had a bank account. Eddie from Milot came in to do a transaction with Bernard, and it was nice to see him again. The Haitians we have worked with have been more than hospitable, they've been friendly.
Back to the hotel, and we saw Sanchez (our translator) off after a couple of drinks and exchanging email and other contact information. He's our last goodbye until Bernard sees us off. I might write again tonight, but for now adieu.
Opening a bank account in Haiti is odd, and would have been impossible without Bernard. UMCOR and Providence Methodist have an existing relationship with a Haitian bank that allows them to do international wire transfers for a low cost, so I opened an account with them. It's a personal account for me, not a UNC Charlotte account.
We started out by going to get photos taken. An international account needs two people to be opened, so both Bernard and I had to get our picture taken. When I saw it, I realized how haggard I look. There was an adorable little girl (maybe two?) who would peek at me, smile, and then hide; we played this game while Bernard and I waited for the photos to be printed.
An odd realization occurred to me when I saw Bernard pay for the photos (I paid him back); we (SLC folks) came to Haiti with precisely the wrong cash. The amounts were correct, but the bills were terrible. We think of a twenty dollar bill as an effective balance between high value and spendability, but that's not true in Haiti. Almost no one can make change; even the hotel gives us a hard time. What we should have done is changed money regularly into small bills (25, 50, and 100 goud, equivalent to thirty cents, sixty cents, and $1.20) would have upped our bargaining power, made transactions easier, and cost us significantly less. If you pay in US bills, you pay tourist prices; if you pay in goud, you pay less. This isn't true at the hotel or the Digicel store, but everywhere else it's true.
After the photos, we went to the bank. There is no line; people come in and sit down to wait for the next teller. Bernard put on his best BMOC attitude and got us started on the forms. Rather than fill out the entire form, we passed the form back and forth, filling out one section at a time. I couldn't even remotely follow the Creole involved. I deposited $20, filled out a signature card, and voila, I had a bank account. Eddie from Milot came in to do a transaction with Bernard, and it was nice to see him again. The Haitians we have worked with have been more than hospitable, they've been friendly.
Back to the hotel, and we saw Sanchez (our translator) off after a couple of drinks and exchanging email and other contact information. He's our last goodbye until Bernard sees us off. I might write again tonight, but for now adieu.
A Business Proposition
Reginald and Davni were very mature for seventeen-year-olds. They know what they want to do, which is create an internet cafe/library somewhere in Tovar or Grison Garde. This is a tricky enterprise, because it would require space, power (generator or solar panels), and an internet connection. Everything else is trivial; we can get used laptops (which use less power and can be charged and detached, allowing a generator to be shut down), and the orphanage has a carpentry shop for young adults to learn woodworking, so they could make furniture.
The chief unknowns are costs, both for startup and operations. Space is expensive, so the young men hope to build an addition to Reginald's parents' house. Cost: unknown. They hope to buy a used diesel generator. Cost: unknown. HaiTel has reliable highish-speed internet, using fixed broadcast (presumably via microwaves). Cost: unknown. The chief operational cost is fuel for the generator; since we don't know how much the generator will need, that cost is unknown.
We also asked about the customers. Reginald estimated that 70% of the people around Tovar and Grison Garde are literate, but that estimate may be high. I'm not sure anyone knows how many people live in the two towns, let alone the immediate area. Reginald hopes to keep costs reasonable; a few goud for an hour of internet, and one Haitian dollar per minute for phone calls to the US. They also plan to offer classes on using computers and the internet, and they could charge tuition for these.
I should say here that I would love to offer all of these things for free, but there are two problems with that. The first is that even if we got a grant to cover the startup costs, it's not self-sustaining, even if we used solar power and didn't have to pay for fuel. The internet connection will cost money, as will maintenance, and purchasing books for the library. That doesn't even consider paying staff.
The second issue is bigger; the goal is always a self-sustaining economy. If this business didn't make a profit and financially enrich (to some extent) the owners, it wouldn't create the economic churn that needs to happen in this area to become economically viable. Bernard's dream of jobs for Haitians requires a robust economy.
Right now, the existing economy is geared entirely toward the export of currency to Haitian cities and eventually out of the country. The market is consists largely of independent retailers who buy wholesale in the city markets and return to Grison Garde. The local business include:
- at least one pawn shop (bureau d'affaires)
- countless lotto shops (for all of the major lottos in the area, including Rapid Bank, Patience Bank, and Apotheose Bank)
- stores selling national and international brands of soft drinks (boissons gazeuses)
- Digicel, Digicel, Digicel (global cell phone company with the majority of the Haitian market)
Creating a new business that serves the local community, as this cafe would, has the long-term possibility of providing a new way to move money around. I'm really hoping we can find a green initiative to fund solar panels, as fuel costs will always siphon away from the villages and Haiti. The internet connection will also cost, but that's a relatively fixed cost. To be really successful, this business would need to generate sufficient revenue to pay for operations, salaries, and the ability to expand (possibly even beyond the immediate environs).
However, it would be foolish to dismiss these young men. I doubt many American teens have established ideas of the cost of business. Reginald assured me that he would estimate costs and send them to me. We left the discussion open, after exchanging email addresses. I know this is not a new observation, but being able to communicate reliably with people in a foreign country still somewhat amazes me. This would not have been possible even five years ago; Reginald stays connected to the world with a 3G wireless internet card from Digicel.
My plan is to solicit CCI/Business students to help write a business plan and solicit/secure financing; the Haitians would be responsible for incorporating (to whatever extent that is done) and building and operating the business. Assuming we could do this as a business, rather than a non-profit, the business would be co-owned by the Haitians and Americans. We would want to send the Americans down to Haiti at least once. I'm hoping they could stay at the orphanage, which has security and facilities, although they may need to pitch a tent. Talk about an experience learning about international business! I'm meeting with Dean Kerr in the Belk College of Business in a week or so, and I'll bring up the idea.
Will it happen? Depends on what you mean. Sooner or later, someone will open an internet cafe; if nothing else, the local kids who are learning about computers via Waveplace and OLPC are going to want to use it. Will this initiative take root, ensuring local ownership? I can work on it and hope.
Multinationals succeed in Haiti and elsewhere because they have capital and know how to work the system. They can put money up front, and through advertising they build brands recognized even in rural Haiti. They can pay experts on the ground. We can't easily replicate this, because we don't have the money. What we do have is spirit, local partners who are committed to bettering their community, and a mix of drive and top-shelf business acumen.
Quite simply, there are two ways of looking at this. First, as a risky business venture, and it is that. Second is a challenging opportunity that will leverage everything we have in Haiti and everything we know about Haiti and our Haitian friends.
Ah, so the business aside, it was time for a last round of goodbyes with Adam, Junior, Elizabeth, Mishna, and Bastien. This goodbye was sad, since it was au revoir (until next time) rather than a demain (see you tomorrow). We started back to Cap Haitien in an odd mood; we're exhausted but happy. The week has gone by far faster than I would have expected, and we have some great things to work on.
The chief unknowns are costs, both for startup and operations. Space is expensive, so the young men hope to build an addition to Reginald's parents' house. Cost: unknown. They hope to buy a used diesel generator. Cost: unknown. HaiTel has reliable highish-speed internet, using fixed broadcast (presumably via microwaves). Cost: unknown. The chief operational cost is fuel for the generator; since we don't know how much the generator will need, that cost is unknown.
We also asked about the customers. Reginald estimated that 70% of the people around Tovar and Grison Garde are literate, but that estimate may be high. I'm not sure anyone knows how many people live in the two towns, let alone the immediate area. Reginald hopes to keep costs reasonable; a few goud for an hour of internet, and one Haitian dollar per minute for phone calls to the US. They also plan to offer classes on using computers and the internet, and they could charge tuition for these.
I should say here that I would love to offer all of these things for free, but there are two problems with that. The first is that even if we got a grant to cover the startup costs, it's not self-sustaining, even if we used solar power and didn't have to pay for fuel. The internet connection will cost money, as will maintenance, and purchasing books for the library. That doesn't even consider paying staff.
The second issue is bigger; the goal is always a self-sustaining economy. If this business didn't make a profit and financially enrich (to some extent) the owners, it wouldn't create the economic churn that needs to happen in this area to become economically viable. Bernard's dream of jobs for Haitians requires a robust economy.
Right now, the existing economy is geared entirely toward the export of currency to Haitian cities and eventually out of the country. The market is consists largely of independent retailers who buy wholesale in the city markets and return to Grison Garde. The local business include:
- at least one pawn shop (bureau d'affaires)
- countless lotto shops (for all of the major lottos in the area, including Rapid Bank, Patience Bank, and Apotheose Bank)
- stores selling national and international brands of soft drinks (boissons gazeuses)
- Digicel, Digicel, Digicel (global cell phone company with the majority of the Haitian market)
Creating a new business that serves the local community, as this cafe would, has the long-term possibility of providing a new way to move money around. I'm really hoping we can find a green initiative to fund solar panels, as fuel costs will always siphon away from the villages and Haiti. The internet connection will also cost, but that's a relatively fixed cost. To be really successful, this business would need to generate sufficient revenue to pay for operations, salaries, and the ability to expand (possibly even beyond the immediate environs).
However, it would be foolish to dismiss these young men. I doubt many American teens have established ideas of the cost of business. Reginald assured me that he would estimate costs and send them to me. We left the discussion open, after exchanging email addresses. I know this is not a new observation, but being able to communicate reliably with people in a foreign country still somewhat amazes me. This would not have been possible even five years ago; Reginald stays connected to the world with a 3G wireless internet card from Digicel.
My plan is to solicit CCI/Business students to help write a business plan and solicit/secure financing; the Haitians would be responsible for incorporating (to whatever extent that is done) and building and operating the business. Assuming we could do this as a business, rather than a non-profit, the business would be co-owned by the Haitians and Americans. We would want to send the Americans down to Haiti at least once. I'm hoping they could stay at the orphanage, which has security and facilities, although they may need to pitch a tent. Talk about an experience learning about international business! I'm meeting with Dean Kerr in the Belk College of Business in a week or so, and I'll bring up the idea.
Will it happen? Depends on what you mean. Sooner or later, someone will open an internet cafe; if nothing else, the local kids who are learning about computers via Waveplace and OLPC are going to want to use it. Will this initiative take root, ensuring local ownership? I can work on it and hope.
Multinationals succeed in Haiti and elsewhere because they have capital and know how to work the system. They can put money up front, and through advertising they build brands recognized even in rural Haiti. They can pay experts on the ground. We can't easily replicate this, because we don't have the money. What we do have is spirit, local partners who are committed to bettering their community, and a mix of drive and top-shelf business acumen.
Quite simply, there are two ways of looking at this. First, as a risky business venture, and it is that. Second is a challenging opportunity that will leverage everything we have in Haiti and everything we know about Haiti and our Haitian friends.
Ah, so the business aside, it was time for a last round of goodbyes with Adam, Junior, Elizabeth, Mishna, and Bastien. This goodbye was sad, since it was au revoir (until next time) rather than a demain (see you tomorrow). We started back to Cap Haitien in an odd mood; we're exhausted but happy. The week has gone by far faster than I would have expected, and we have some great things to work on.
Le football et plus d'education (football and more learning)
We woke early again for the trip to Tovar. It was strange riding back; it seemed both familiar and strange, welcoming and alien.
Today we had a present to bring to the kids; two soccer balls. Our Massi clone, Shaun, even signed one as Massi. We gave one ball to the boys and one ball to the girls. The girls accepted theirs conditionally; they wanted to play by themselves. I don't know if they wanted to exclude me or the boys. Certainly I was no threat, because the girls were good. I had hoped for a short, informal match between the adults and the kids, but it was clear that I would not be able to keep up with the girls or boys.
We caught an early morning math lesson for younger students, and Shaun and I could be heard chanting "deux plus zero..." for a while. The educational day for the Waveplace project started with a Haitian version of "Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes". This I could keep up with (the movements if not the song) until they started doing it ultra-fast; at least I wasn't the only one who couldn't keep up then. Our crack videographers/photographers (Shaun and Katelyn) were hard at work capturing this.
We watched the kids and adult mentors work with eToys some more, but the real event was a business meeting. Somehow several boys in the community (rising seniors in high school) found out about the whole project, and came to talk to Adam a few days ago. He arranged for us to meet them today.
Today we had a present to bring to the kids; two soccer balls. Our Massi clone, Shaun, even signed one as Massi. We gave one ball to the boys and one ball to the girls. The girls accepted theirs conditionally; they wanted to play by themselves. I don't know if they wanted to exclude me or the boys. Certainly I was no threat, because the girls were good. I had hoped for a short, informal match between the adults and the kids, but it was clear that I would not be able to keep up with the girls or boys.
We caught an early morning math lesson for younger students, and Shaun and I could be heard chanting "deux plus zero..." for a while. The educational day for the Waveplace project started with a Haitian version of "Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes". This I could keep up with (the movements if not the song) until they started doing it ultra-fast; at least I wasn't the only one who couldn't keep up then. Our crack videographers/photographers (Shaun and Katelyn) were hard at work capturing this.
We watched the kids and adult mentors work with eToys some more, but the real event was a business meeting. Somehow several boys in the community (rising seniors in high school) found out about the whole project, and came to talk to Adam a few days ago. He arranged for us to meet them today.
l'Ecole Carmelot (Carmelot School)
Back down the hill, we could see the panorama of the region, and even could see Tovar and Grison Garde. We could see the cape (Cap Haitien) itself and the sea (well, ocean) beyond. The weather was starting to cloud up, and it finally became clear that this area is naturally a tropical rainforest. Again, massive deforestation (to make charcoal) has wounded this country, but I believe in the Haitians. I have never before encountered so much will to improve, so much commitment to the nation and local communities, as I have in Haiti.
The city of Milot (population, approximately 30,000 is sort of built around the ruins of a castle destroyed in 1842 (and considered the closest thing to Versailles that existed in the Americas). The town tapers up the mountain, but gets dense back down on flat land. Before we returned to flat land, relatively normal driving, and back to Cap, we stopped for a meeting at another school, Carmelot.
The director, a studious man and the founder of the school, met us outside and took us in a classroom. His school is only through primaire, up to sixth grade. The room we met in is for the second grade. A detailed schedule hung on the wall, and every day began with "Drapeau" (flag).
I asked the man sitting next to me about that. When I asked (in my horrid French, which I'm using to try to improve) about that, his eyes lit up; every day, all of the children sing the national anthem. The anthem, which I need to look up, is in French and Creole. The Haitians have a strong national pride, despite the horrors that have visited them since, well, since forever; they started as slaves, revolted, were under bloody wars (much like the US civil wars) that led to a democratic society, have been hit by massive earthquakes which only recent building techniques can help, and through in multiple hurricanes each year, for which adequate supplies for preparation just aren't present. The massive earthquake of January 12, 2010, was only the latest in a string of tragedies. To me, a nation that survives such challenges is a strong nation, regardless of the current state of affairs. Haitians love their country, flaws and all.
During the meeting, we got to enjoy a bit more of Haitian food. I don't know how much I've talked about the food, but it's wonderful. Maybe another post on that after dinner tonight.
Bananas were the first treat; they were grown on trees on school grounds. Even better, a few minutes later we were asked if we would like some coconut milk. Sounded great after that long hike, but we got more than expected. One of the men disappeared and a few minutes later began bringing each of us a coconut fresh from the tree. They chopped off the husk (with an actual machete, using maneuvers and speed that would have somehow lost me both hands and a foot) and cut a piece out of the top so that we could drink. Adam got the largest coconut (perhaps the largest I've seen by a couple of inches) and guzzled coconut milk for the next 20 minutes as we talked with the director.
This school is special: they don't charge the students at all. They have 250-260 student, from kindergarten through sixth grade. Classes run from 7:50AM (national anthem) to 1:00PM. The school has previously not had facilities to feed lunch to the students, so afternoon class is not possible. This summer the school was able to construct a new building for a kitchen and new storage rooms for the food, so they hopefully will be able to feed the children lunch and continue classes.
Another side note, this time about food and clothing. The Haitians I encountered were practically all very thin, but by no means emaciated. I am not a doctor (well, not that kind of doctor), so I can't tell you if there were signs of malnutrition. There are no stomachs bloated from a lack of food (again, I can only speak of what I saw). The image you may have of some "save the children" TV ad does not apply in this area. Everyone over the age of five is well-dressed (the younger boys may go shirtless). Today is Sunday, and many Haitians (a very religious nation) were in their Sunday best. Women wore nice dresses, and many of the men were wearing slacks, a long sleeve shirt, a tie, and shined shoes. I can't figure it out; the Haitians seem to repel dirt. It's embarrassing enough that I sweat heavily while they don't (hey, my family is from northeastern Europe), but I feel a fair bit underdressed (although no one ever notices). Mishna wore fashionable open shoes (nicer than anything called a sandal) on the hike up. No one ever wore dirty clothes, and Haiti is, well, it's not the cleanest place. It can be very dusty, and there is little pavement outside of the city. All of the clothes washing (as with everything else) is done by hand.
When we finished drinking the coconut milk, the discussion began to get serious (although not negative). Oh, the Haitians took our coconuts and broke them so that we could eat the meat. I have never had coconut like this, although I've had fresh coconut before. Fresh coconut from the store, a thousand or more miles away from where it was grown, is not the same as FRESH coconut off the tree for only a few minutes. It's like a creamy melon, and the coconut flavor is not as pronounced. Adam's giant coconut was so young that the meat hadn't matured, but we all shared.
The serious discussion was about the structure of the school. As I said, there are 250-260 students in seven grades (including kindergarten). There are nine teachers and three staff, including the director. Because the school doesn't charge tuition or fees, it cannot pay its teachers as well; they are compensated by the appreciation and respect given to them by the community. Four of the teachers are in the Waveplace training, and they are staying at the orphanage, as the commute would be too long and too expensive. There are two more Carmelot representatives training to be mentors, one a staff member, and the other from the local version of the PTA. The Haitians care greatly about education; because of their history, they don't have the same foundation as, say, India, but they aspire to teach more students.
One odd anecdote; I asked through Adam (our impromptu translator) about the distribution of students. It seems that the number of students drops off as the grade level increases; Carmelot only has 10 students (3 girls and 7 boys) in sixth grade. I asked why, and the director replied that at the end of sixth grade, there is a national three-day exam to determine if a student can continue. This isn't an answer to the question, as their school stops at sixth grade, but I think there are two factors at play.
The first is the Ministry of Education. They dictate a national curriculum and even as far as nation-wide start and end date; the school doesn't even know yet when they can start. Oh, and this is a private school; they still have to comply. As a result, the curriculum can't be tailored to the area around the school. I don't know that I would change the curriculum, but the children aren't learning things like animal husbandry or effective crop strategies. Where do they learn things like this? Most of these children are from (or spend time working on) small farms.
The second issue is the lack of future. We often hear students complaining that they won't apply the lessons they learned ("why do I have to learn calculus?"), but for these kids, all of the knowledge can be seen as theoretical. Hopefully the laptops will work as symbols of integrating with the larger world while staying in Milot and contributing to the economy. Milot is great; I wish I had more time to spend here.
Only a few months ago, a new road was built from Cap Haitien to Milot. It's by far the best pavement I've seen, and one section even had a yellow lane-marking line in the middle. We passed several places of interest, including a beautiful villa that houses doctors (mostly American) who come as volunteers for 1-2 week stints. I really don't think I had much of a conscious preconception of Haiti, but whatever I might have thought was wrong; this place is paradise; it might be paradise lost right now, but it can be paradise regained. I would bet that it will be.
The city of Milot (population, approximately 30,000 is sort of built around the ruins of a castle destroyed in 1842 (and considered the closest thing to Versailles that existed in the Americas). The town tapers up the mountain, but gets dense back down on flat land. Before we returned to flat land, relatively normal driving, and back to Cap, we stopped for a meeting at another school, Carmelot.
The director, a studious man and the founder of the school, met us outside and took us in a classroom. His school is only through primaire, up to sixth grade. The room we met in is for the second grade. A detailed schedule hung on the wall, and every day began with "Drapeau" (flag).
I asked the man sitting next to me about that. When I asked (in my horrid French, which I'm using to try to improve) about that, his eyes lit up; every day, all of the children sing the national anthem. The anthem, which I need to look up, is in French and Creole. The Haitians have a strong national pride, despite the horrors that have visited them since, well, since forever; they started as slaves, revolted, were under bloody wars (much like the US civil wars) that led to a democratic society, have been hit by massive earthquakes which only recent building techniques can help, and through in multiple hurricanes each year, for which adequate supplies for preparation just aren't present. The massive earthquake of January 12, 2010, was only the latest in a string of tragedies. To me, a nation that survives such challenges is a strong nation, regardless of the current state of affairs. Haitians love their country, flaws and all.
During the meeting, we got to enjoy a bit more of Haitian food. I don't know how much I've talked about the food, but it's wonderful. Maybe another post on that after dinner tonight.
Bananas were the first treat; they were grown on trees on school grounds. Even better, a few minutes later we were asked if we would like some coconut milk. Sounded great after that long hike, but we got more than expected. One of the men disappeared and a few minutes later began bringing each of us a coconut fresh from the tree. They chopped off the husk (with an actual machete, using maneuvers and speed that would have somehow lost me both hands and a foot) and cut a piece out of the top so that we could drink. Adam got the largest coconut (perhaps the largest I've seen by a couple of inches) and guzzled coconut milk for the next 20 minutes as we talked with the director.
This school is special: they don't charge the students at all. They have 250-260 student, from kindergarten through sixth grade. Classes run from 7:50AM (national anthem) to 1:00PM. The school has previously not had facilities to feed lunch to the students, so afternoon class is not possible. This summer the school was able to construct a new building for a kitchen and new storage rooms for the food, so they hopefully will be able to feed the children lunch and continue classes.
Another side note, this time about food and clothing. The Haitians I encountered were practically all very thin, but by no means emaciated. I am not a doctor (well, not that kind of doctor), so I can't tell you if there were signs of malnutrition. There are no stomachs bloated from a lack of food (again, I can only speak of what I saw). The image you may have of some "save the children" TV ad does not apply in this area. Everyone over the age of five is well-dressed (the younger boys may go shirtless). Today is Sunday, and many Haitians (a very religious nation) were in their Sunday best. Women wore nice dresses, and many of the men were wearing slacks, a long sleeve shirt, a tie, and shined shoes. I can't figure it out; the Haitians seem to repel dirt. It's embarrassing enough that I sweat heavily while they don't (hey, my family is from northeastern Europe), but I feel a fair bit underdressed (although no one ever notices). Mishna wore fashionable open shoes (nicer than anything called a sandal) on the hike up. No one ever wore dirty clothes, and Haiti is, well, it's not the cleanest place. It can be very dusty, and there is little pavement outside of the city. All of the clothes washing (as with everything else) is done by hand.
When we finished drinking the coconut milk, the discussion began to get serious (although not negative). Oh, the Haitians took our coconuts and broke them so that we could eat the meat. I have never had coconut like this, although I've had fresh coconut before. Fresh coconut from the store, a thousand or more miles away from where it was grown, is not the same as FRESH coconut off the tree for only a few minutes. It's like a creamy melon, and the coconut flavor is not as pronounced. Adam's giant coconut was so young that the meat hadn't matured, but we all shared.
The serious discussion was about the structure of the school. As I said, there are 250-260 students in seven grades (including kindergarten). There are nine teachers and three staff, including the director. Because the school doesn't charge tuition or fees, it cannot pay its teachers as well; they are compensated by the appreciation and respect given to them by the community. Four of the teachers are in the Waveplace training, and they are staying at the orphanage, as the commute would be too long and too expensive. There are two more Carmelot representatives training to be mentors, one a staff member, and the other from the local version of the PTA. The Haitians care greatly about education; because of their history, they don't have the same foundation as, say, India, but they aspire to teach more students.
One odd anecdote; I asked through Adam (our impromptu translator) about the distribution of students. It seems that the number of students drops off as the grade level increases; Carmelot only has 10 students (3 girls and 7 boys) in sixth grade. I asked why, and the director replied that at the end of sixth grade, there is a national three-day exam to determine if a student can continue. This isn't an answer to the question, as their school stops at sixth grade, but I think there are two factors at play.
The first is the Ministry of Education. They dictate a national curriculum and even as far as nation-wide start and end date; the school doesn't even know yet when they can start. Oh, and this is a private school; they still have to comply. As a result, the curriculum can't be tailored to the area around the school. I don't know that I would change the curriculum, but the children aren't learning things like animal husbandry or effective crop strategies. Where do they learn things like this? Most of these children are from (or spend time working on) small farms.
The second issue is the lack of future. We often hear students complaining that they won't apply the lessons they learned ("why do I have to learn calculus?"), but for these kids, all of the knowledge can be seen as theoretical. Hopefully the laptops will work as symbols of integrating with the larger world while staying in Milot and contributing to the economy. Milot is great; I wish I had more time to spend here.
Only a few months ago, a new road was built from Cap Haitien to Milot. It's by far the best pavement I've seen, and one section even had a yellow lane-marking line in the middle. We passed several places of interest, including a beautiful villa that houses doctors (mostly American) who come as volunteers for 1-2 week stints. I really don't think I had much of a conscious preconception of Haiti, but whatever I might have thought was wrong; this place is paradise; it might be paradise lost right now, but it can be paradise regained. I would bet that it will be.
Nous Allons au Citadel Roi Henri Christophe (we go the the citadel of King Henry Christopher)
Early this morning, Tiffany, Richard, Beth, and Renada left for home. There was some last-minute shuffling of flights, but all four left. They should be in Charlotte in a couple of hours. Bernard patiently waited for them to board the plane.
Later, Bernard picked up the trainers (Adam, Junior, Evance, Elizabeth, and Mishna) at their hotel, and then picked up us (Katelyn, Shaun, and myself) and took us to Milot to hike up to the citadel. I'll get to Milot later; I want to talk about the citadel first. Eddie, our tour guide, told us a great deal of information.
Le Citadel de Roi Christophe is (quite literally) monumental. It was built from 1806-1813 by 200,000 Haitians; about 10% lost their lives. Ed: Wikipedia says 20,000 workers.
The forward part of the citadel is built like a ship's prow, and juts forward into view as you come into (and up) Milot. It's perched on a steep incline. It was built by Roi Christophe (King Christopher), who helped free the slaves. The slave revolt occurred in 1802-3, and Haiti (an indigenous word meaning heights, due to the hills) became the first free black republic, and also only the second colony to declare (and take!) independence, just 25 years after the US. At the time, actually, there were two republics, the north, led by Christophe, and the south, led by Petion.
The citadel was built as the last line of defense against the French, who had been pushed out during the slave revolt, although there were concerns that other colonial powers might try to take Haiti. While the citadel was never used, it represents Haitian independence and will.
The citadel is built from local stone and mortar, all of which was carried up (by hand, or rather head - like many, Haitians learned to balance heavy loads on their heads and carry them) from the surrounding areas. There is no concrete in the citadel; the mortar was mixed from a variety of ingredients, including cow's blood and gelatin. I've never been to the pyramids of Mexico or Egypt, but Adam said he was more impressed by the citadel. It certainly compares favorably to any European monument I've seen, and nothing in the US that started as a fortress is comparable.
This first point of reference is a large plaza, and at the edge of the plaza is a moat. While the moat is empty and a wooden bridge spans it, you can still see the pulleys used for the drawbridge when you step inside.
Next, up a dark set of stairs (fortunately with a handrail) you come to the first hall of cannons. Each cannon is in a separate room with a large passageway leading down the hall. The cannon rooms are about 20-25 feet and have a large window and (as expected) a large cannon. The cannons were seized from French, Spanish, and English warships. The inscriptions on the cannons vary, and oddly the French cannons are inscribed in Latin and the English cannons are inscribed in French. One particular cannon carries the French motto "the last argument of kings). At the back of the cannon there is a large semicircular groove in the floor; the cannons were mounted on wooden frames that could be turned to different angles. Most of the cannons are on the floor, but a few still have their wooden frames.
After the cannons, up a large and well-lit staircase, we come to another plaza, which presumably served as an area to muster the 2,000 soldiers who lived and worked in the citadel. They had enough supplies stocked to keep the citadel running for a year.
Near the center of the plaza is a monument to le Roi Christophe. My French is limited, but the basic idea is that Christophe committed suicide on October 8 1820. Our guide explained that he had a stroke and was paralyzed. The very night he died, he was buried in the foundation. The location of his body was a secret that the soldiers took to their graves.
In a room off of the courtyard is another monument, this time for Christophe's brother-in-law. He was killed in a gunpowder explosion, and all that was recovered was his hand. There was another such explosion later after which a new hall, as yet unreconstructed, was built to house the gunpowder.
Up more stairs, and we're near the top of the entire citadel, and at the top of what has been restored. Oh, the citadel was restored from 1979-1990, sponsored by the Haitian national historic preservation society. Massive effort, again involving many Haitians and lots of steep hiking carrying stones and other building material, but far fewer deaths.
There's a wide and unguarded ledge at the wall of the citadel. We did look over BUT we did it lying on our stomachs. Quite a view and quite steep. The ledge was for riflemen with muskets. Down the stairs, up a new set of stairs, and we were in another area, this time looking down into another set of cannon rooms. This view was different, though; along the spine of the hill, the ruins of several redoubts stood. Down the stairs, and Eddie explained that each of the areas was named for a member of the king's family.
To repeat, the citadel was crucial to the Haitian sense of will, strength, and love of independence and freedom. It made me think of all of the historic landmarks in the US devoted to the same concept, and remembered just as fondly. I won't say that the Haitians are particularly like Americans, but there are parallels in our history.
Later, Bernard picked up the trainers (Adam, Junior, Evance, Elizabeth, and Mishna) at their hotel, and then picked up us (Katelyn, Shaun, and myself) and took us to Milot to hike up to the citadel. I'll get to Milot later; I want to talk about the citadel first. Eddie, our tour guide, told us a great deal of information.
Le Citadel de Roi Christophe is (quite literally) monumental. It was built from 1806-1813 by 200,000 Haitians; about 10% lost their lives. Ed: Wikipedia says 20,000 workers.
The forward part of the citadel is built like a ship's prow, and juts forward into view as you come into (and up) Milot. It's perched on a steep incline. It was built by Roi Christophe (King Christopher), who helped free the slaves. The slave revolt occurred in 1802-3, and Haiti (an indigenous word meaning heights, due to the hills) became the first free black republic, and also only the second colony to declare (and take!) independence, just 25 years after the US. At the time, actually, there were two republics, the north, led by Christophe, and the south, led by Petion.
The citadel was built as the last line of defense against the French, who had been pushed out during the slave revolt, although there were concerns that other colonial powers might try to take Haiti. While the citadel was never used, it represents Haitian independence and will.
The citadel is built from local stone and mortar, all of which was carried up (by hand, or rather head - like many, Haitians learned to balance heavy loads on their heads and carry them) from the surrounding areas. There is no concrete in the citadel; the mortar was mixed from a variety of ingredients, including cow's blood and gelatin. I've never been to the pyramids of Mexico or Egypt, but Adam said he was more impressed by the citadel. It certainly compares favorably to any European monument I've seen, and nothing in the US that started as a fortress is comparable.
This first point of reference is a large plaza, and at the edge of the plaza is a moat. While the moat is empty and a wooden bridge spans it, you can still see the pulleys used for the drawbridge when you step inside.
Next, up a dark set of stairs (fortunately with a handrail) you come to the first hall of cannons. Each cannon is in a separate room with a large passageway leading down the hall. The cannon rooms are about 20-25 feet and have a large window and (as expected) a large cannon. The cannons were seized from French, Spanish, and English warships. The inscriptions on the cannons vary, and oddly the French cannons are inscribed in Latin and the English cannons are inscribed in French. One particular cannon carries the French motto "the last argument of kings). At the back of the cannon there is a large semicircular groove in the floor; the cannons were mounted on wooden frames that could be turned to different angles. Most of the cannons are on the floor, but a few still have their wooden frames.
After the cannons, up a large and well-lit staircase, we come to another plaza, which presumably served as an area to muster the 2,000 soldiers who lived and worked in the citadel. They had enough supplies stocked to keep the citadel running for a year.
Near the center of the plaza is a monument to le Roi Christophe. My French is limited, but the basic idea is that Christophe committed suicide on October 8 1820. Our guide explained that he had a stroke and was paralyzed. The very night he died, he was buried in the foundation. The location of his body was a secret that the soldiers took to their graves.
In a room off of the courtyard is another monument, this time for Christophe's brother-in-law. He was killed in a gunpowder explosion, and all that was recovered was his hand. There was another such explosion later after which a new hall, as yet unreconstructed, was built to house the gunpowder.
Up more stairs, and we're near the top of the entire citadel, and at the top of what has been restored. Oh, the citadel was restored from 1979-1990, sponsored by the Haitian national historic preservation society. Massive effort, again involving many Haitians and lots of steep hiking carrying stones and other building material, but far fewer deaths.
There's a wide and unguarded ledge at the wall of the citadel. We did look over BUT we did it lying on our stomachs. Quite a view and quite steep. The ledge was for riflemen with muskets. Down the stairs, up a new set of stairs, and we were in another area, this time looking down into another set of cannon rooms. This view was different, though; along the spine of the hill, the ruins of several redoubts stood. Down the stairs, and Eddie explained that each of the areas was named for a member of the king's family.
To repeat, the citadel was crucial to the Haitian sense of will, strength, and love of independence and freedom. It made me think of all of the historic landmarks in the US devoted to the same concept, and remembered just as fondly. I won't say that the Haitians are particularly like Americans, but there are parallels in our history.
Marchant au Tovar (Walking to Tovar)
Oof, off day; I was not feeling well, so I didn't blog about our second day or our trip to the market in Grison Garde.
We arrived early at the Maranathe Orphanage, so Bastien (Josue Bastien) offered to walk with us to town. Since we had already seen Grison Gard, we decided to stroll in the other direction to Tovar.
Walking the road is interesting. You are expected to get out of the way of moving traffic; the bigger you are, the faster you are, the more right-of-way you have. I got a little turned around for a second, and Bastien grabbed me (possibly saving my life).
We first saw a clinic. Definitely third world. Limited equipment, and the examination rooms and labs were dilapidated. The reason for this is interesting; they aren't priorities for the community. Yes, they would like newer equipment, but what they really want are supplies (medicines, tests, vaccines, gloves) and money to pay the doctor so that they can keep the clinic open more. It's only open about two days a week. Water-borne illness is still the leading cause of death
Next to the clinic is a church; the people in the area are very religious, and virtually all Methodist. Several women and a group of girls were washing the pews, chairs, and ornamental flowers in preparation for a party that night. They were also scrubbing the floor. Haiti may have dirty roads, but much of the country is just spotless.
Our next stop was a kindergarten class. The boys sat on one side, the girls sat on the other side, and they were all attentive and alert - remember, this is a Saturday - and they sang us a song. They were a little shy, but very smiley.
Our final stop was a cassava bread place. I say "place" because cassava is farmed, processed, and baked all in the same place. Facility would be the right word, but... well, it starts with the fields, which are all dug up at this point. The cassava is (from what I could see) a green fruit that is shaped and colored like a lime, but much larger (2-3 times larger). The cassava is manually broken into pieces, which are then dried. There were three women working, although not much (it was getting hot), and one of the women was quite old. After being broken and dried, the pieces are then milled to a very coursely ground flour; the mill seems to be hand-powered, and is in the center room. The front is sort a of patio with a roof but no walls; it has six large plates for baking the flatbread, but I didn't know it at the time. In the back room, a six foot stack of the bread sheets stood in the corner; the diameter was perhaps four or five feet.
Then it was back to the orphanage, which was fine, because it was getting hot.
I walked into the classroom and was shocked; the teachers were learning to program! It's a visual programming environment conceptually based upon logo, and some of the students were quite adept at using it. I was shocked because many of these people had never used a computer before this week. I spoke with Adam, who explained that Waveplace is really committed to producing a new model of learning based upon what I would call minimalist training with an empahsis on exploration. This is certainly not what we do in the US. One reason I really like this is that the whole environment (eToys) is built in Squeak, which is a smalltalk VM. That means that the user can modify the program at runtime, and not just using the visual level of the language. It would take time, but Adam had been visited last night by a group of four boys, none associated with the training, all of whom want to know more. They brought along a USB 3G modem, so they were able to use the laptops to connect to the world. The teachers and the boys wanted to see Google and Facebook; I suppose you have to start somewhere.
Katelyn asked about getting OLPCs for development purposes, and Adam excitedly explained the developer community and the monthly discussion and voting (via IRC) that is used to determine who gets the next set of laptops. All you have to do is provide an explanation of what you want to do. Later Adam and I talked about social media, and the OLPC community wants to encourage people to blog and tweet about OLPC and development. I guess I'm meeting that qualification as I type.
One issue came up, which is the procurement, transportation, and delivery of the laptops. Sadly, an earlier program had largely failed because of partnerships that (I understand) had some problems that weren't caught by the oversight processes. OLPC is not the business of giving the laptops away; they are committed to designing them, building them, and driving costs down while driving features up. There is clearly a place to spin off the procurement, transportation, and delivery process, especially with reference to customs duties. It's a complex world.
More later, but a much needed dinner awaits...
We arrived early at the Maranathe Orphanage, so Bastien (Josue Bastien) offered to walk with us to town. Since we had already seen Grison Gard, we decided to stroll in the other direction to Tovar.
Walking the road is interesting. You are expected to get out of the way of moving traffic; the bigger you are, the faster you are, the more right-of-way you have. I got a little turned around for a second, and Bastien grabbed me (possibly saving my life).
We first saw a clinic. Definitely third world. Limited equipment, and the examination rooms and labs were dilapidated. The reason for this is interesting; they aren't priorities for the community. Yes, they would like newer equipment, but what they really want are supplies (medicines, tests, vaccines, gloves) and money to pay the doctor so that they can keep the clinic open more. It's only open about two days a week. Water-borne illness is still the leading cause of death
Next to the clinic is a church; the people in the area are very religious, and virtually all Methodist. Several women and a group of girls were washing the pews, chairs, and ornamental flowers in preparation for a party that night. They were also scrubbing the floor. Haiti may have dirty roads, but much of the country is just spotless.
Our next stop was a kindergarten class. The boys sat on one side, the girls sat on the other side, and they were all attentive and alert - remember, this is a Saturday - and they sang us a song. They were a little shy, but very smiley.
Our final stop was a cassava bread place. I say "place" because cassava is farmed, processed, and baked all in the same place. Facility would be the right word, but... well, it starts with the fields, which are all dug up at this point. The cassava is (from what I could see) a green fruit that is shaped and colored like a lime, but much larger (2-3 times larger). The cassava is manually broken into pieces, which are then dried. There were three women working, although not much (it was getting hot), and one of the women was quite old. After being broken and dried, the pieces are then milled to a very coursely ground flour; the mill seems to be hand-powered, and is in the center room. The front is sort a of patio with a roof but no walls; it has six large plates for baking the flatbread, but I didn't know it at the time. In the back room, a six foot stack of the bread sheets stood in the corner; the diameter was perhaps four or five feet.
Then it was back to the orphanage, which was fine, because it was getting hot.
I walked into the classroom and was shocked; the teachers were learning to program! It's a visual programming environment conceptually based upon logo, and some of the students were quite adept at using it. I was shocked because many of these people had never used a computer before this week. I spoke with Adam, who explained that Waveplace is really committed to producing a new model of learning based upon what I would call minimalist training with an empahsis on exploration. This is certainly not what we do in the US. One reason I really like this is that the whole environment (eToys) is built in Squeak, which is a smalltalk VM. That means that the user can modify the program at runtime, and not just using the visual level of the language. It would take time, but Adam had been visited last night by a group of four boys, none associated with the training, all of whom want to know more. They brought along a USB 3G modem, so they were able to use the laptops to connect to the world. The teachers and the boys wanted to see Google and Facebook; I suppose you have to start somewhere.
Katelyn asked about getting OLPCs for development purposes, and Adam excitedly explained the developer community and the monthly discussion and voting (via IRC) that is used to determine who gets the next set of laptops. All you have to do is provide an explanation of what you want to do. Later Adam and I talked about social media, and the OLPC community wants to encourage people to blog and tweet about OLPC and development. I guess I'm meeting that qualification as I type.
One issue came up, which is the procurement, transportation, and delivery of the laptops. Sadly, an earlier program had largely failed because of partnerships that (I understand) had some problems that weren't caught by the oversight processes. OLPC is not the business of giving the laptops away; they are committed to designing them, building them, and driving costs down while driving features up. There is clearly a place to spin off the procurement, transportation, and delivery process, especially with reference to customs duties. It's a complex world.
More later, but a much needed dinner awaits...
Le dernier jour (the next day)
Today was a new beginning and a new end. I started re-reading Farmer's book with a new sense of Haiti, but no more than a sense, and no more than can be picked up in one day. I was under no illusion that Haiti had no more surprises for me, but the book seemed even more grounded, tragic, and hopeful than it had been.
We were picked up by Sarah, Lauren, and Louisa, and we dropped Louisa off at the airport - the first goodbye. Our driver today is Bernard, and he knows even more people than Antonin.
While we waited for the Air TC flight, I picked up a cell phone with Lauren's help. The phone and a 250 goud top-up totaled less than $25. Oh, the goud is the Haitian currency. A Haitian dollar is five goud, and there are 8 Haitian dollars to the US dollar. I hope you aren't confused yet, because it gets better. The Haitian dollar doesn't actually exist; it's just a concept. Really, the conversion is 40 goud to the US dollar. You can change money at the hotel, but that's not the best way to do it; our drivers can change money for us along the road. They stop on a busy city road, and negotiate with some guy; the negotiation is odd, since the exchange rate is invariant. The guy comes back with Haitian goud, and only then does the driver give the US dollars. Oh, goud is the Creole word; in French it's gourdes (gourds). I wonder if there is an historical basis...
This time we were not allowed into the customs area; we were denied by a police officer, presumably one of the Canadians who are helping Haiti form a police. Fortunately, Tiffany and Richard came through without a problem. We made our way back to the hotel so they could drop off their stuff, and we picked up our translator, Sanchez. We later learned that Sanchez is an electrician by trade, but there is very little trade to do. His English is good despite his thick accent. We made out alright.
We then hit the road again, but not before saying goodbye to Lauren, Lakmesh, and Sarah. They were wonderful and helpful and insightful; they really love the country. This country needs more people like them.
We made our way to the school again and had a chance to introduce ourselves to the class of mentors and children. Oddly enough all of the UNC Charlotte faculty spoke enough French to introduce ourselves, but as for me, that's about my limit. I can make out a bit of spoken Creole, which surprised me; it's easier to understand than spoken French (for me). It is also written very differently; it's entirely phonetic.
After introducing ourselves, Richard, Tiffany, and I started talking to Bastien, the school director. We asked him how we could help. As Lauren had predicted, their first priorities were money, food, and buildings. They want to build a central latrine for the village, which is a wonderful idea, but even Bastien acknowledged that it would be difficult to convince residents to use it. Sadly, it's not our area of expertise, but I think it was important information; we need to know how they perceive the world, and what immediate challenges they face. It's sad that the orphanage has to turn children away, and it's sad to think that children living in an orphanage are the lucky ones. Bastien also introduced us to his sons Allen and Misselin. Misselin will come back in later.
When we explained to Bastien what we could do, he began to see that our specialty is "informatique" (computer science). This led to a new bit of knowledge; Bastien is not the head of the school (and Bastien is his last name). Another man named Joseph Bastien (from what I could tell), Josue Bastien's father, is the actual director/principal. We hadn't met him yet. It seems that more senior adults largely use their last names, but without any title. I never heard Monsier Bastien (Mr. Bastien.
We explained our areas of expertise, and talked about some possibilities. We had a hard time expressing the kind of blue-sky thinking that we do when putting together our proposals. I fear that there is a cultural problem; it isn't that we could promise to do all (or even anything), but we need to have ideas to pull from. I asked (through Sanchez) what the principal would like to see in three to five years. I had a purpose behind this question: Lauren and Sarah had explained that the Haitians think only of today (which makes sense when it's unclear where tonight's dinner will come from). The principal didn't know how to answer the question, so offered that he would write a list. His general reaction was one of puzzlement, as if we asked an absurd question, and I guess we did. When you live for today, and maybe plan for two weeks, this is incongruous. I feel a bit bad because I was using my knowledge from FACS (a system for analyzing and classifying facial expression). I was as much interested in his expression as his answer; the words have to come through a translator, but the expressions are (nearly) universal.
The whole meeting was odd; eventually everyone had crowded into the principal's office, including Adam Holt. I realized on reflection that this meeting, which started small and casual, became larger and more formal; I would have found being in Joseph Bastien's seat. We didn't know what to make of each other, which is actually a fine place to start. I don't think we even completely understood each other, but based upon the list, we know that they frame their needs very concretely. They want more laptops, training, and generators. Of course they want an internet connection; who wouldn't? The town is perhaps 10 miles from Cap Haitien, but due to the road quality, a trip typically lasts an hour or so, even with Bernard driving like a maniac. These people like where they live, but they are so isolated.
The rest of the day was spent watching the training, and in discussions with Adam. Adam is the world-wide volunteer coordinator for OLPC, and he's devoting a year to Haiti. He has no fixed address exactly. He has several cell phones (including one for Haiti). I think this expresses something important; there is a strong need for individuals who can be mobile.
Lots to think about...
Oh, Misselin, one of eight sons of Josue Bastien, cornered us at lunch. He talked about his religious work, but it was clear that he was going around the countryside and teaching kids to read and write. We can't use our research dollars to support the religious side of what he does, but there may be other options. Misselin is an electrician by trade, but he just can't find work. It turns out that we know many qualified electricians (with state certificates), including Sanchez and Antonin, all of whom have to do different jobs. Sanchez translates and works for another hotel doing transportation and logistics (bring food and beverages from wholesalers). I just can't imagine what that's like, having training for a job and not being able to do the work very often. Sure, I've been out of work, but I knew that I would eventually get another job doing something that required my qualifications. There's an issue of pride here; Misselin can make money because he speaks some English and can drive, but what he wants to do is electrical work.
We were picked up by Sarah, Lauren, and Louisa, and we dropped Louisa off at the airport - the first goodbye. Our driver today is Bernard, and he knows even more people than Antonin.
While we waited for the Air TC flight, I picked up a cell phone with Lauren's help. The phone and a 250 goud top-up totaled less than $25. Oh, the goud is the Haitian currency. A Haitian dollar is five goud, and there are 8 Haitian dollars to the US dollar. I hope you aren't confused yet, because it gets better. The Haitian dollar doesn't actually exist; it's just a concept. Really, the conversion is 40 goud to the US dollar. You can change money at the hotel, but that's not the best way to do it; our drivers can change money for us along the road. They stop on a busy city road, and negotiate with some guy; the negotiation is odd, since the exchange rate is invariant. The guy comes back with Haitian goud, and only then does the driver give the US dollars. Oh, goud is the Creole word; in French it's gourdes (gourds). I wonder if there is an historical basis...
This time we were not allowed into the customs area; we were denied by a police officer, presumably one of the Canadians who are helping Haiti form a police. Fortunately, Tiffany and Richard came through without a problem. We made our way back to the hotel so they could drop off their stuff, and we picked up our translator, Sanchez. We later learned that Sanchez is an electrician by trade, but there is very little trade to do. His English is good despite his thick accent. We made out alright.
We then hit the road again, but not before saying goodbye to Lauren, Lakmesh, and Sarah. They were wonderful and helpful and insightful; they really love the country. This country needs more people like them.
We made our way to the school again and had a chance to introduce ourselves to the class of mentors and children. Oddly enough all of the UNC Charlotte faculty spoke enough French to introduce ourselves, but as for me, that's about my limit. I can make out a bit of spoken Creole, which surprised me; it's easier to understand than spoken French (for me). It is also written very differently; it's entirely phonetic.
After introducing ourselves, Richard, Tiffany, and I started talking to Bastien, the school director. We asked him how we could help. As Lauren had predicted, their first priorities were money, food, and buildings. They want to build a central latrine for the village, which is a wonderful idea, but even Bastien acknowledged that it would be difficult to convince residents to use it. Sadly, it's not our area of expertise, but I think it was important information; we need to know how they perceive the world, and what immediate challenges they face. It's sad that the orphanage has to turn children away, and it's sad to think that children living in an orphanage are the lucky ones. Bastien also introduced us to his sons Allen and Misselin. Misselin will come back in later.
When we explained to Bastien what we could do, he began to see that our specialty is "informatique" (computer science). This led to a new bit of knowledge; Bastien is not the head of the school (and Bastien is his last name). Another man named Joseph Bastien (from what I could tell), Josue Bastien's father, is the actual director/principal. We hadn't met him yet. It seems that more senior adults largely use their last names, but without any title. I never heard Monsier Bastien (Mr. Bastien.
We explained our areas of expertise, and talked about some possibilities. We had a hard time expressing the kind of blue-sky thinking that we do when putting together our proposals. I fear that there is a cultural problem; it isn't that we could promise to do all (or even anything), but we need to have ideas to pull from. I asked (through Sanchez) what the principal would like to see in three to five years. I had a purpose behind this question: Lauren and Sarah had explained that the Haitians think only of today (which makes sense when it's unclear where tonight's dinner will come from). The principal didn't know how to answer the question, so offered that he would write a list. His general reaction was one of puzzlement, as if we asked an absurd question, and I guess we did. When you live for today, and maybe plan for two weeks, this is incongruous. I feel a bit bad because I was using my knowledge from FACS (a system for analyzing and classifying facial expression). I was as much interested in his expression as his answer; the words have to come through a translator, but the expressions are (nearly) universal.
The whole meeting was odd; eventually everyone had crowded into the principal's office, including Adam Holt. I realized on reflection that this meeting, which started small and casual, became larger and more formal; I would have found being in Joseph Bastien's seat. We didn't know what to make of each other, which is actually a fine place to start. I don't think we even completely understood each other, but based upon the list, we know that they frame their needs very concretely. They want more laptops, training, and generators. Of course they want an internet connection; who wouldn't? The town is perhaps 10 miles from Cap Haitien, but due to the road quality, a trip typically lasts an hour or so, even with Bernard driving like a maniac. These people like where they live, but they are so isolated.
The rest of the day was spent watching the training, and in discussions with Adam. Adam is the world-wide volunteer coordinator for OLPC, and he's devoting a year to Haiti. He has no fixed address exactly. He has several cell phones (including one for Haiti). I think this expresses something important; there is a strong need for individuals who can be mobile.
Lots to think about...
Oh, Misselin, one of eight sons of Josue Bastien, cornered us at lunch. He talked about his religious work, but it was clear that he was going around the countryside and teaching kids to read and write. We can't use our research dollars to support the religious side of what he does, but there may be other options. Misselin is an electrician by trade, but he just can't find work. It turns out that we know many qualified electricians (with state certificates), including Sanchez and Antonin, all of whom have to do different jobs. Sanchez translates and works for another hotel doing transportation and logistics (bring food and beverages from wholesalers). I just can't imagine what that's like, having training for a job and not being able to do the work very often. Sure, I've been out of work, but I knew that I would eventually get another job doing something that required my qualifications. There's an issue of pride here; Misselin can make money because he speaks some English and can drive, but what he wants to do is electrical work.
Apres le diner
Sorry, finally get to use my limited French, and it only gets better if you use it. "Apres le diner" means "after dinner".
Wonderful meal; apparently our hotel has some of the best food in town, and Cap has the best food in Haiti. Our colleagues from Port au Prince were very eager to eat, as was I; it was a long day, and I was hungry. The restaurant is in the hotel, but it's open to the elements; not quite 'al fresco', but that's getting to the idea.
Sadly, they were out of shrimp and goat. Dommage; I really like goat. On a recommendation from Lauren, I ordered the Poisson Courser Sel (?), a meaty white fish, not unlike grouper, cooked and served in a bright sauce. The food came with fried plantains (excellent), beans and rice (a favorite of mine, and much better than the bagged kind), and (inexplicably) french fries (I guess they were out of white rice). All together a very satisfying meal.
What made the meal stand out even more was the discussion. It was a little smalltalk, a little shop, and a lot of blue sky thinking. Lakmesh asked me about what it would take to build a relatively simple system to communicate from farmers to city markets (and back) about the availability of food and the price being paid for a specific food at a specific market. He pointed out that this would be easy to monetize, because the centers directing the flow of information would be paid by both ends; the farmers to look for requests and prices, and the market to seek out a seller Good for optimiz...
...zzzz...
Can't keep my eyes open. Ugh. Need to get to bed. More atr
Wonderful meal; apparently our hotel has some of the best food in town, and Cap has the best food in Haiti. Our colleagues from Port au Prince were very eager to eat, as was I; it was a long day, and I was hungry. The restaurant is in the hotel, but it's open to the elements; not quite 'al fresco', but that's getting to the idea.
Sadly, they were out of shrimp and goat. Dommage; I really like goat. On a recommendation from Lauren, I ordered the Poisson Courser Sel (?), a meaty white fish, not unlike grouper, cooked and served in a bright sauce. The food came with fried plantains (excellent), beans and rice (a favorite of mine, and much better than the bagged kind), and (inexplicably) french fries (I guess they were out of white rice). All together a very satisfying meal.
What made the meal stand out even more was the discussion. It was a little smalltalk, a little shop, and a lot of blue sky thinking. Lakmesh asked me about what it would take to build a relatively simple system to communicate from farmers to city markets (and back) about the availability of food and the price being paid for a specific food at a specific market. He pointed out that this would be easy to monetize, because the centers directing the flow of information would be paid by both ends; the farmers to look for requests and prices, and the market to seek out a seller Good for optimiz...
...zzzz...
Can't keep my eyes open. Ugh. Need to get to bed. More atr
A Brief, Intense Course on Haiti
The flight from Providenciales into Cap Haitien was fine. Immigration consisted of filling out a form and getting our passports stamped. Rather than using a carousel or carts, a young man takes your baggage claim ticket, finds your bag, and brings it to you; you tip him a dollar a bag. I'm very willing to pay for this.
It was at this point that we were greeted by our intrepid and wonderful hosts, Lauren and Sarah. They work for two separate aid organizations: UMCOR and UMVIS, respectively. They have been amazing, and it's too bad that we only overlap for one day (they're based in Port au Prince). They have both lived in Haiti for years, and were only too happy to share insight about Haiti, Cap, and Tovar. They are both clearly in love with this country.
As we were landing, I saw what must be part of that reason: Haiti is beautiful. Even with all of the ecological damage done (nearly complete deforestation to make charcoal), it's lush and green, with mountains and passes. I was thinking about the intensity and vibrancy of the colors when I realized I still had my sunglasses on; when I took them off, everything popped. One of my favorite cities is Seattle, which similarly has hills, mountains, and a large body of water. When it's sunny (which does happen) Seattle really comes to life in color, but it has nothing on Cap.
Outside the airport we make our way to our car (a Toyota Land Cruiser) and were immediately implored for money, but not in a hostile way. What stuck out, though, was the scene around the airport: a bazaar. A bar called God is Good Bar. Women selling plantains. Every other woman walking with a load of something on her head, as naturally as I might walk with a backpack. Tropical and pastel colors are everywhere. Streets are chaos, but not in a bad way. We saw our first UN presence; a soldier standing up in the middle of a UN vehicle, armed with an assault rifle. It seemed oddly out of place, and it is (as I learned later).
Oh, wait, I forgot customs, but that's OK because so did the Haitians. I did see a door marked Douane, but it was closed.
Our driver is Anatol, and he's knowledgeable and friendly and managed to drive this enormous SUV (seats 8) through crowded streets. The thought occurred to me that 24 hours earlier, I was in Charlotte politely merging onto the freeway, and later in the day was in a country with apparently no traffic lights, just roundabouts, (and where they drive on the wrong side of the road, and now I was in the Third World, where concepts like traffic laws and lanes just don't apply.
Motorcycles are not personal transportation; I saw four young men on one, but three was probably the norm. These are just motorbikes, not built for passengers. Traffic flowed (although that's not the appropriate word) in any and all or no direction simultaneously. I think in the short drive to our hotel, Anatol used his horn more than I have used a horn in my entire life (and I don't think I'm exaggerating). We didn't go far, and didn't go fast. The motorcycles were the fastest, although they performed death-defying stunts with apparent ease. Bicycles probably were the second-fastest. There are few actual cars here; it's all trucks: Pickups and SUVs, and none of the "crossover" SUVs that are more like cars. There's a good reason, too. The roads are almost entirely unpaved and unmaintained.
The hotel is beautiful Caribbean art deco, with several first-floor lounges. The rooms are nothing exciting, but clean and with reasonably comfortable beds. Oh, and no bed bugs. In-wall air conditioners, but if you aren't moving, it's just hot and muggy outside; it's not blistering. Not much of a breeze. We dropped our bags and began the slough to Tovar.
Along the righthand side of the road there was a drainage (sewer) ditch. It was incomplete in some places, and businesses had sturdy-looking concrete walkways over it. There are tiny businesses on the ground floor of nearly every building, and most of them seem to have uncertain purposes, with one exception, the "Patience Bank", which is really a lotto; they use the New York drawings, and I'm not sure if each store is independent, or if this is centralized.
Oh, two new people in our group: Kamlesh and Louisa. Kamlesh is also based in Port au Prince and works for UMCOR, while Louisa runs programs for teens who come to do work like help build new buildings.
On the streets there are people everywhere doing lots of different things, and a lot of nothing. Sarah noted that the unemployment rate is 80-85%. The government claims that 300,000 people moved to Cap after the earthquake, which has put a strain on already limited resources. The other effect in Cap and across Haiti is much different building practice; concrete walls are reinforced with heavy rebar. Few buildings are more than one story, and a much smaller number go to three levels. Homes seem to be a single small room. Running water? No. Electricity? No. There is not much of a grid, and it's unreliable, and it certainly wouldn't extend this far outside of Cap.
I asked how the Haitians afford food with such massive unemployment, and the answer is partly that the family unit is much larger, and one employed person would be responsible for funding a large extended family.
This also brought up the issue of schools. As you might suspect, there is no national education program, although there is a bureaucracy defining curriculum at a national level. Schools have to scramble to find space, equipment, books, and qualified teachers, who rarely get paid on time. Most schools charge tuition, along with an annual entry fee, a uniform fee, and a book fee. These can easily add up to $300 dollars, which is about half of the mean wage for an adult. Our driver, Anatol, is paying for school for his brothers' children; again, the larger family unit.
Sarah told us that about 50% of Haitian children never step foot in a classroom. Wow. We're a few hundred miles from mainland US, and here's one of the poorest nations in the world. They WANT education, but they are wary about paying for it (seemingly contradictory, but it makes sense if you put it in the economic perspective that an educated person is not particularly likely to be employed at all, and even less so employed in a way that requires an education). It's beginning to be obvious that this country is a mass of contradictions, and I'm going to have to accept some cognitive dissonance in order to make some sense of what I see.
One example is money. This is a poor, poor country; more on that below. However, it's not a cheap country. We're paying Western hotel prices ($120 for single occupancy). Our driver is getting paid $100/day, and our translator, who will start tomorrow, is getting $60/day. One driver is the fact that these people are supporting large families, but the other is that it seems as though all of the money in Haiti is eventually exported.
As the drive became more rural, there were fewer and fewer people, and buildings became scarce. There were some larger and nicer houses, but I later learned a simple and shocking lesson: everyone in Haiti is poor. There is little middle class, and their hold on middle class status is tenuous. The one house that looked like it might belong in the US turned out to be owned by Haitian Americans.
Lauren followed this up with the statement that poverty does not necessarily mean unhappiness. The Haitians are generous. Children play with their friends and eat dinner wherever they happen to be (if there's enough food). The Haitians "live for today"; tomorrow is foreign country (to borrow from Hartley) when today's dinner is uncertain. You get by. There is little rivalry or jealousy because no one has anything. There is some crime, but it's unclear how much; Sarah told us that 80% of the people in jail have never been charged with a crime or seen a judge. To paraphrase one resident, this is one of the many mechanisms that the ruling elite (the 3% who own 97% of the nation's wealth, a group that includes a certain former president who has since returned to the country, if not to power) use to keep control on society; the contradiction is that they allow crime to happen to keep society in chaos and prevent anyone from moving up.
There are three levels of rural poverty, all of which are genuine poverty beyond what we would see in the US or in Europe since the collapse of serfdom. The worst is to live on and work land that someone else owns, and you pay rent, and only get a portion of the crops. The second is to live on and work land that someone else owns, but you only have to give them part of the crops. The best is to own your own land. Lots of small farming. Avacados are just great. There is little rice business (the US put them out of the rice business for good), and there are lantains (which are usually fried or mashed).
The orphanage was another eye-opener. It's a walled-off compound. It's a new orphanage; the founder is still the director. They have running water, showers, and flush toilets. The classrooms have backless benches with worktables above, and they also have blackboards. Only about 70 students are resident, there are 400 more who come from Tovar and Grison Garde, as the orphanage is between the two.
We then found out what we feared, which is that education is done in a mix of Creole and French. Creole is derived from French, although written phonetically. French used to be the only language used in education, and is still dominant, which means that schoolchildren were rarely taught much about their native language. This will make my language instruction researcher friends very unhappy; if you don't master your native language, it's very hard to be good at a new language. English is not taught at any of the two schools in Tovar or the one in Milot.
Sarah gave us the good news; Creole is an easy language to learn (much simplified grammar relative to French). There are books, CDs, and computer programs to help. This might be an area we can work in. More importantly, we can give students at least the rudiments of Creole; Renada has students who are from Haiti and who may help us learn Creole, too. We probably cannot teach them enough to teach in the language, but possibly enough to be useful. Direct instruction by our students for the Haitian kids seems to be unlikely, but that's not surprising, and not our only avenue.
A quick walk around the grounds: there are several dormitories, and while they are dark and grim (without anyone in them) they are clean and fresh and not dilapidated. I would be happy to have stayed there had they only had air conditioning, or it were a cooler season. The dorms are places to sleep, and nothing more; the darkness keeps them cool.
The classrooms are clean and maintained, but have no equipment. Power on the site is generated, and all with fossil fuel (not sure if it's diesel or gas). I would love to get a grant to bring some green tech down here, as it would eliminate the fuel cost. This country is a great place for things like windmills and solar cells; they have no local source of energy (trees for charcoal are just gone, although I guess bamboo sort of works), and they have no grid. They have to import all of their energy, and they can't afford to do this.
The site also has a kitchen and a cafeteria, and an enormous shop where vocational education takes place (for older students, not specifically those living at the orphanage).
Side point: as you might suspect, the children at the orphanage are not necessarily orphans. They are simply kids who don't have anyone to take care of them. It's clearly a good place to be; the kids get an education, housing, clean-ish water, and food. It's not clear how the kids come to be at the orphanage, since it seems that the lives of these kids are better than many other children. There is a large playground on the site, which apparently is very rare. It's a typical combination of slides, ladders, bridges, and swings; I've seen larger and more impressive in a back yard in the US. When they came out, the kids ran to the playground and went at it as you would expect kids to do; they were laughing and playing and smiling. Poverty does not mean unhappiness. Poverty does not mean unhappiness.
I finally got to see the OLPC XO computers, and they are amazing. They are slim, have a small screen, and a rubberized chicklet keyboard. One of the trainers is Adam Holt from OLPC (and a volunteer for Waveplace). Katelyn asked a good question (she's full of them): what about competition from a commercial interest?, like Dell, using netbooks. Adam threw his own personal OLPC XO from about 4 feet onto concrete, and said "try doing that with your Dell." I was sold.
The hardware is easy to fix/refurb, too. All of the laptops for this program (75, 25 for each of three schools, of which 20 go to students on a rotating basis, and 5 go to teachers) were donated and refurbed. In Uruguay, you can drop off your broken laptop at the post office and they fix it. This would be hard to do in Haiti, Adam said, since "try to find a post office". His point is that there is not societal infrastructure, and it's true. Banking is very difficult (but possible with planning and foresight). Ed: Never found a post office; sorry, no postcards from Haiti.
We had lunch at the orphanage; it was a thick corn-and-bean base (of the same consistency as a thick risotto, perhaps) with a vegetable stew and chunks of what I assume to be goat. It was delicious, so unscrew your face. I would have eaten more, but I was hot and had little appetite. The treat came when a young man brought around avacados and cut them up for us. They're the kind with smooth skin; I can't recall what they are called. Yum.
Back to class; today, the teachers from the local schools are learning. For people who have little or no prior experience with computers, they are fairly adept. eToys puts together several tools that can be used to create a storybook, with animation, when you master the features. What little experience they had with computers used pirated software, and Adam had a hard time explaining open-source and free software; they didn't understand the concept, since software is free to them. I'm reminded of Shakespeare in the Bush. What's important for me is that Powerpoint is not a way to learn about a computer; eToys can get you as far as you want to go, even into programming (it's based on Squeak, an open-source smalltalk vm).
While we were observing, Lauren and I started to hatch a plan. When asked what they want or need, the people will say money. We can't really do that, even if we wanted to. What we can do is engage them in helping build educational games for them. This is actually what OLPC wants to happen; they want on-the-ground development and adaptation of tools on OLPC done to meet the specific needs of the country/culture.
A research framework might go like this. Over time, we bring down students and faculty to work with the people of Tovar and locally-based aid workers like Sarah and Lauren. The first visits (like ours) are about getting a sense of the culture. The subsequent visits are about using participatory design to create ideas of games that would be educational, culturally appropriate, and useful. We would then develop prototypes of the games and test them in the field, using the schools as our labs (oh boy, IRB issues are going to be fun with orphans in a third world country). Later (and without having heard this conversation), Katelyn suggested the same thing.
On the return trip to Cap, we started hatching ideas, just brainstorming. Lauren and Sarah helped us understand some issues with Haitian thinking processes:
1. There is no accountability w/r/t money. It's not that they spend it imprudently, it's that financial planning and financial responsibility (again, Katelyn came up with the concept) are just foreign.
2. Logical, procedural thinking is not the norm, which means planning is nearly impossible. At a low level, this is expressed as the inability to give a driver a series of directions; they have to be given one-by-one, when they are needed.
3. Multitasking is just not done.
Just from these statements, a whole set of games become possible. We talked about Diner Dash, where the player has to manage multiple tables as a waiter. Prince of Persia: The Sand of Time, where the player is allowed to see the negative consequence of an action, and reverse time to the earlier decision point to change actions. A driving game where a set of instructions have to be remembered, and then the memory has to be recalled, extended, and edited. There will necessarily need to be some assessment beforehand and some scaffolding, but the other participants in UNC Charlotte's cognitive science group will probably be of use.
The BIG caveat is that we have half a day's experience in one town in Haiti. We don't know Haiti, we don't know these kids, and anecdotal evidence is not sufficient (although may be necessary/useful) for scientific endeavors. The idea of sustainable businesses is on the shelf while we evaluate simpler interventions.
Not bad for a first day. Now, off to dinner with our new colleagues.
It was at this point that we were greeted by our intrepid and wonderful hosts, Lauren and Sarah. They work for two separate aid organizations: UMCOR and UMVIS, respectively. They have been amazing, and it's too bad that we only overlap for one day (they're based in Port au Prince). They have both lived in Haiti for years, and were only too happy to share insight about Haiti, Cap, and Tovar. They are both clearly in love with this country.
As we were landing, I saw what must be part of that reason: Haiti is beautiful. Even with all of the ecological damage done (nearly complete deforestation to make charcoal), it's lush and green, with mountains and passes. I was thinking about the intensity and vibrancy of the colors when I realized I still had my sunglasses on; when I took them off, everything popped. One of my favorite cities is Seattle, which similarly has hills, mountains, and a large body of water. When it's sunny (which does happen) Seattle really comes to life in color, but it has nothing on Cap.
Outside the airport we make our way to our car (a Toyota Land Cruiser) and were immediately implored for money, but not in a hostile way. What stuck out, though, was the scene around the airport: a bazaar. A bar called God is Good Bar. Women selling plantains. Every other woman walking with a load of something on her head, as naturally as I might walk with a backpack. Tropical and pastel colors are everywhere. Streets are chaos, but not in a bad way. We saw our first UN presence; a soldier standing up in the middle of a UN vehicle, armed with an assault rifle. It seemed oddly out of place, and it is (as I learned later).
Oh, wait, I forgot customs, but that's OK because so did the Haitians. I did see a door marked Douane, but it was closed.
Our driver is Anatol, and he's knowledgeable and friendly and managed to drive this enormous SUV (seats 8) through crowded streets. The thought occurred to me that 24 hours earlier, I was in Charlotte politely merging onto the freeway, and later in the day was in a country with apparently no traffic lights, just roundabouts, (and where they drive on the wrong side of the road, and now I was in the Third World, where concepts like traffic laws and lanes just don't apply.
Motorcycles are not personal transportation; I saw four young men on one, but three was probably the norm. These are just motorbikes, not built for passengers. Traffic flowed (although that's not the appropriate word) in any and all or no direction simultaneously. I think in the short drive to our hotel, Anatol used his horn more than I have used a horn in my entire life (and I don't think I'm exaggerating). We didn't go far, and didn't go fast. The motorcycles were the fastest, although they performed death-defying stunts with apparent ease. Bicycles probably were the second-fastest. There are few actual cars here; it's all trucks: Pickups and SUVs, and none of the "crossover" SUVs that are more like cars. There's a good reason, too. The roads are almost entirely unpaved and unmaintained.
The hotel is beautiful Caribbean art deco, with several first-floor lounges. The rooms are nothing exciting, but clean and with reasonably comfortable beds. Oh, and no bed bugs. In-wall air conditioners, but if you aren't moving, it's just hot and muggy outside; it's not blistering. Not much of a breeze. We dropped our bags and began the slough to Tovar.
Along the righthand side of the road there was a drainage (sewer) ditch. It was incomplete in some places, and businesses had sturdy-looking concrete walkways over it. There are tiny businesses on the ground floor of nearly every building, and most of them seem to have uncertain purposes, with one exception, the "Patience Bank", which is really a lotto; they use the New York drawings, and I'm not sure if each store is independent, or if this is centralized.
Oh, two new people in our group: Kamlesh and Louisa. Kamlesh is also based in Port au Prince and works for UMCOR, while Louisa runs programs for teens who come to do work like help build new buildings.
On the streets there are people everywhere doing lots of different things, and a lot of nothing. Sarah noted that the unemployment rate is 80-85%. The government claims that 300,000 people moved to Cap after the earthquake, which has put a strain on already limited resources. The other effect in Cap and across Haiti is much different building practice; concrete walls are reinforced with heavy rebar. Few buildings are more than one story, and a much smaller number go to three levels. Homes seem to be a single small room. Running water? No. Electricity? No. There is not much of a grid, and it's unreliable, and it certainly wouldn't extend this far outside of Cap.
I asked how the Haitians afford food with such massive unemployment, and the answer is partly that the family unit is much larger, and one employed person would be responsible for funding a large extended family.
This also brought up the issue of schools. As you might suspect, there is no national education program, although there is a bureaucracy defining curriculum at a national level. Schools have to scramble to find space, equipment, books, and qualified teachers, who rarely get paid on time. Most schools charge tuition, along with an annual entry fee, a uniform fee, and a book fee. These can easily add up to $300 dollars, which is about half of the mean wage for an adult. Our driver, Anatol, is paying for school for his brothers' children; again, the larger family unit.
Sarah told us that about 50% of Haitian children never step foot in a classroom. Wow. We're a few hundred miles from mainland US, and here's one of the poorest nations in the world. They WANT education, but they are wary about paying for it (seemingly contradictory, but it makes sense if you put it in the economic perspective that an educated person is not particularly likely to be employed at all, and even less so employed in a way that requires an education). It's beginning to be obvious that this country is a mass of contradictions, and I'm going to have to accept some cognitive dissonance in order to make some sense of what I see.
One example is money. This is a poor, poor country; more on that below. However, it's not a cheap country. We're paying Western hotel prices ($120 for single occupancy). Our driver is getting paid $100/day, and our translator, who will start tomorrow, is getting $60/day. One driver is the fact that these people are supporting large families, but the other is that it seems as though all of the money in Haiti is eventually exported.
As the drive became more rural, there were fewer and fewer people, and buildings became scarce. There were some larger and nicer houses, but I later learned a simple and shocking lesson: everyone in Haiti is poor. There is little middle class, and their hold on middle class status is tenuous. The one house that looked like it might belong in the US turned out to be owned by Haitian Americans.
Lauren followed this up with the statement that poverty does not necessarily mean unhappiness. The Haitians are generous. Children play with their friends and eat dinner wherever they happen to be (if there's enough food). The Haitians "live for today"; tomorrow is foreign country (to borrow from Hartley) when today's dinner is uncertain. You get by. There is little rivalry or jealousy because no one has anything. There is some crime, but it's unclear how much; Sarah told us that 80% of the people in jail have never been charged with a crime or seen a judge. To paraphrase one resident, this is one of the many mechanisms that the ruling elite (the 3% who own 97% of the nation's wealth, a group that includes a certain former president who has since returned to the country, if not to power) use to keep control on society; the contradiction is that they allow crime to happen to keep society in chaos and prevent anyone from moving up.
There are three levels of rural poverty, all of which are genuine poverty beyond what we would see in the US or in Europe since the collapse of serfdom. The worst is to live on and work land that someone else owns, and you pay rent, and only get a portion of the crops. The second is to live on and work land that someone else owns, but you only have to give them part of the crops. The best is to own your own land. Lots of small farming. Avacados are just great. There is little rice business (the US put them out of the rice business for good), and there are lantains (which are usually fried or mashed).
The orphanage was another eye-opener. It's a walled-off compound. It's a new orphanage; the founder is still the director. They have running water, showers, and flush toilets. The classrooms have backless benches with worktables above, and they also have blackboards. Only about 70 students are resident, there are 400 more who come from Tovar and Grison Garde, as the orphanage is between the two.
We then found out what we feared, which is that education is done in a mix of Creole and French. Creole is derived from French, although written phonetically. French used to be the only language used in education, and is still dominant, which means that schoolchildren were rarely taught much about their native language. This will make my language instruction researcher friends very unhappy; if you don't master your native language, it's very hard to be good at a new language. English is not taught at any of the two schools in Tovar or the one in Milot.
Sarah gave us the good news; Creole is an easy language to learn (much simplified grammar relative to French). There are books, CDs, and computer programs to help. This might be an area we can work in. More importantly, we can give students at least the rudiments of Creole; Renada has students who are from Haiti and who may help us learn Creole, too. We probably cannot teach them enough to teach in the language, but possibly enough to be useful. Direct instruction by our students for the Haitian kids seems to be unlikely, but that's not surprising, and not our only avenue.
A quick walk around the grounds: there are several dormitories, and while they are dark and grim (without anyone in them) they are clean and fresh and not dilapidated. I would be happy to have stayed there had they only had air conditioning, or it were a cooler season. The dorms are places to sleep, and nothing more; the darkness keeps them cool.
The classrooms are clean and maintained, but have no equipment. Power on the site is generated, and all with fossil fuel (not sure if it's diesel or gas). I would love to get a grant to bring some green tech down here, as it would eliminate the fuel cost. This country is a great place for things like windmills and solar cells; they have no local source of energy (trees for charcoal are just gone, although I guess bamboo sort of works), and they have no grid. They have to import all of their energy, and they can't afford to do this.
The site also has a kitchen and a cafeteria, and an enormous shop where vocational education takes place (for older students, not specifically those living at the orphanage).
Side point: as you might suspect, the children at the orphanage are not necessarily orphans. They are simply kids who don't have anyone to take care of them. It's clearly a good place to be; the kids get an education, housing, clean-ish water, and food. It's not clear how the kids come to be at the orphanage, since it seems that the lives of these kids are better than many other children. There is a large playground on the site, which apparently is very rare. It's a typical combination of slides, ladders, bridges, and swings; I've seen larger and more impressive in a back yard in the US. When they came out, the kids ran to the playground and went at it as you would expect kids to do; they were laughing and playing and smiling. Poverty does not mean unhappiness. Poverty does not mean unhappiness.
I finally got to see the OLPC XO computers, and they are amazing. They are slim, have a small screen, and a rubberized chicklet keyboard. One of the trainers is Adam Holt from OLPC (and a volunteer for Waveplace). Katelyn asked a good question (she's full of them): what about competition from a commercial interest?, like Dell, using netbooks. Adam threw his own personal OLPC XO from about 4 feet onto concrete, and said "try doing that with your Dell." I was sold.
The hardware is easy to fix/refurb, too. All of the laptops for this program (75, 25 for each of three schools, of which 20 go to students on a rotating basis, and 5 go to teachers) were donated and refurbed. In Uruguay, you can drop off your broken laptop at the post office and they fix it. This would be hard to do in Haiti, Adam said, since "try to find a post office". His point is that there is not societal infrastructure, and it's true. Banking is very difficult (but possible with planning and foresight). Ed: Never found a post office; sorry, no postcards from Haiti.
We had lunch at the orphanage; it was a thick corn-and-bean base (of the same consistency as a thick risotto, perhaps) with a vegetable stew and chunks of what I assume to be goat. It was delicious, so unscrew your face. I would have eaten more, but I was hot and had little appetite. The treat came when a young man brought around avacados and cut them up for us. They're the kind with smooth skin; I can't recall what they are called. Yum.
Back to class; today, the teachers from the local schools are learning. For people who have little or no prior experience with computers, they are fairly adept. eToys puts together several tools that can be used to create a storybook, with animation, when you master the features. What little experience they had with computers used pirated software, and Adam had a hard time explaining open-source and free software; they didn't understand the concept, since software is free to them. I'm reminded of Shakespeare in the Bush. What's important for me is that Powerpoint is not a way to learn about a computer; eToys can get you as far as you want to go, even into programming (it's based on Squeak, an open-source smalltalk vm).
While we were observing, Lauren and I started to hatch a plan. When asked what they want or need, the people will say money. We can't really do that, even if we wanted to. What we can do is engage them in helping build educational games for them. This is actually what OLPC wants to happen; they want on-the-ground development and adaptation of tools on OLPC done to meet the specific needs of the country/culture.
A research framework might go like this. Over time, we bring down students and faculty to work with the people of Tovar and locally-based aid workers like Sarah and Lauren. The first visits (like ours) are about getting a sense of the culture. The subsequent visits are about using participatory design to create ideas of games that would be educational, culturally appropriate, and useful. We would then develop prototypes of the games and test them in the field, using the schools as our labs (oh boy, IRB issues are going to be fun with orphans in a third world country). Later (and without having heard this conversation), Katelyn suggested the same thing.
On the return trip to Cap, we started hatching ideas, just brainstorming. Lauren and Sarah helped us understand some issues with Haitian thinking processes:
1. There is no accountability w/r/t money. It's not that they spend it imprudently, it's that financial planning and financial responsibility (again, Katelyn came up with the concept) are just foreign.
2. Logical, procedural thinking is not the norm, which means planning is nearly impossible. At a low level, this is expressed as the inability to give a driver a series of directions; they have to be given one-by-one, when they are needed.
3. Multitasking is just not done.
Just from these statements, a whole set of games become possible. We talked about Diner Dash, where the player has to manage multiple tables as a waiter. Prince of Persia: The Sand of Time, where the player is allowed to see the negative consequence of an action, and reverse time to the earlier decision point to change actions. A driving game where a set of instructions have to be remembered, and then the memory has to be recalled, extended, and edited. There will necessarily need to be some assessment beforehand and some scaffolding, but the other participants in UNC Charlotte's cognitive science group will probably be of use.
The BIG caveat is that we have half a day's experience in one town in Haiti. We don't know Haiti, we don't know these kids, and anecdotal evidence is not sufficient (although may be necessary/useful) for scientific endeavors. The idea of sustainable businesses is on the shelf while we evaluate simpler interventions.
Not bad for a first day. Now, off to dinner with our new colleagues.
Turks and Caicos
Now in Providenciales (aka Provo), Turks and Caicos Islands (TCI). We're here overnighting to catch the next flight to Cap Haitien (aka Cap). I'm having trouble with the internet, so these might go up in a batch when I get home. Provo is strange; there is (flagging) commercial development along the main street through the island. It's not clear if there is a downtown. There's clearly a disparity of wealth, and it seems to run along the color bar.
The mission (which we chose to accept) is to figure a way to bring STEM education to a town in rural Haiti. The town is called Tovar, and it houses an orphanage (flashes of Annie "It's a Hard Knock Life") that serves as a home and school for about 70 kids. There are several players: Mothering Across Continents, Waveplace, and OLPC. The training will be on OLPCs using Squeakland eToys. Smalltalk! There must be power, and from an earlier phone call it seems it must be generated. That's about all we know.
A laptop is a great foundation to lay for a STEM education, but there's more to our project, much more. Few children finish high school in Haiti, and we hope to encourage children and girls especially to pursue as much education as feasible. Delivering STEM education is only a start, though. There has to be something these young people can do with there education.
The possibilities for productive lives boil down to three:
1. Exporting talent: as with many other poor countries, the ostensibly best and brightest make their way to the US and send money back. This is not optimal; it's marginally sustainable, but limited in scope, and only helps the country economically (assuming the person sends money back to take care of family). I've started reading Paul Farmer's book Haiti After the Earthquake, and it's not a cheery read, but one thing is clear: Haiti needs their best and brightest.
2. Move to a city, where there are presumably jobs. Again, suboptimal, and again to refer to Farmer, the cities are not like US cities. There isn't much economic life, and health is very poor. Still, if we can help produce a native intelligent and educated workforce, that would be a benefit in many dimensions.
3. Stay local and create an economy. Microfinancing, producing local goods for sale in cities and abroad, even offering local services that can keep a self-sustaining economy running; all of these are at the pinnacle of what we hope to accomplish.
We need to be very careful observers over the next few days. We had an excellent dinner with a lovely sunset as a backdrop to a great discussion that centered on one idea: what is the connection between education, technology, and opportunity.
The mission (which we chose to accept) is to figure a way to bring STEM education to a town in rural Haiti. The town is called Tovar, and it houses an orphanage (flashes of Annie "It's a Hard Knock Life") that serves as a home and school for about 70 kids. There are several players: Mothering Across Continents, Waveplace, and OLPC. The training will be on OLPCs using Squeakland eToys. Smalltalk! There must be power, and from an earlier phone call it seems it must be generated. That's about all we know.
A laptop is a great foundation to lay for a STEM education, but there's more to our project, much more. Few children finish high school in Haiti, and we hope to encourage children and girls especially to pursue as much education as feasible. Delivering STEM education is only a start, though. There has to be something these young people can do with there education.
The possibilities for productive lives boil down to three:
1. Exporting talent: as with many other poor countries, the ostensibly best and brightest make their way to the US and send money back. This is not optimal; it's marginally sustainable, but limited in scope, and only helps the country economically (assuming the person sends money back to take care of family). I've started reading Paul Farmer's book Haiti After the Earthquake, and it's not a cheery read, but one thing is clear: Haiti needs their best and brightest.
2. Move to a city, where there are presumably jobs. Again, suboptimal, and again to refer to Farmer, the cities are not like US cities. There isn't much economic life, and health is very poor. Still, if we can help produce a native intelligent and educated workforce, that would be a benefit in many dimensions.
3. Stay local and create an economy. Microfinancing, producing local goods for sale in cities and abroad, even offering local services that can keep a self-sustaining economy running; all of these are at the pinnacle of what we hope to accomplish.
We need to be very careful observers over the next few days. We had an excellent dinner with a lovely sunset as a backdrop to a great discussion that centered on one idea: what is the connection between education, technology, and opportunity.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Trip to Haiti
I'm leaving for Haiti soon, and as you might guess, I'm excited. After I get back and sorted, lots of pics and information will be going up. Until then, please wish me "bon voyage".
New Job, New State New City, New Blog
I've been in lovely Charlotte for a couple of weeks now. What can I say? It's a great city. The cost of living is low (relative to Monterey), it's very green, and I have an office with a beautiful view of the UNC Charlotte campus.
I am now the Undergraduate Student Career Manager (USCM, not to be confused with USMC, a wholly different organization). In this job, I will teach, advised, plug together advising programs, recruit, help students and internships fit together, and work with peers across campus, throughout the Charlotte-Mecklenburg metro area, throughout the state, and beyond...
Should be fun.
I am now the Undergraduate Student Career Manager (USCM, not to be confused with USMC, a wholly different organization). In this job, I will teach, advised, plug together advising programs, recruit, help students and internships fit together, and work with peers across campus, throughout the Charlotte-Mecklenburg metro area, throughout the state, and beyond...
Should be fun.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)