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.
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