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Haiti- Day 1
Well, I got up at 0’dark thirty and headed back to the airport. Wasn’t I just here?! In any case, it is time to go to Haiti!!! I am half excited, half scared and 100% unsure of myself. I have a sneaky suspicion that this time, I may just have bitten off more than I can chew!! Oh well, it is too late to turn back now!
My flights were fairly uneventful and late afternoon found me on a plane packed to the gills with church missionary groups all in matching Tee-shirts. You want to know who, six months later, is still coming to Haiti? Missionary groups!! I have to say, I was pretty impressed, although if the looks I got when I ordered a gin and tonic are any indication, they weren’t so impressed with me. J
When we finally landed, my anxiety went up a few notches. The original airport is condemned…something about big cracks in it from the earthquake. So we had to depart the plane, get on a bus and travel to a temporary terminal. We got off of the bus and walked into a huge warehouse-like room full of a million people, all talking loudly over one another and sweating in the 98 degree heat. I quickly got through the first wave of immigration, (now I have a cool ‘Haiti’ stamp in my passport!) and immediately was swarmed by men. Some guy grabbed my ticket and carry- on, admonishing me to ‘wait right her’ and took off through the crowds. I stood there in shock and realized that some guy had my luggage info and I had no idea who he was!!! He had a badge of sorts, so I felt like there was a good chance that he was supposed to be there, but I couldn’t have picked him out of a line-up if my life depended on it!!! So I dove into the crowds that were circling the big pile of luggage that was being unloaded. He saw me and came back, saying, “wait here, wait here”. I tried to explain that both my huge bags were black and that he didn’t have a snowballs chance of finding them in all of the other black luggage, but before I had a chance, he was back with my bags. I finally get the idea that this is a tip-driven system and dig through my bags for some money. By the time I get through everything I have gone through three porters and am $10 lighter. J
As the second porter deposited me in front of the customs woman, she looked at me stonily and pointed at my big giant black bag. “What is that?” she said. “Umm…tools for rehairing bows?” This was the part I had been dreading. All of the news in the US had been talking about the fact that Haiti was charging a tax on all relief supplies being brought into the country and that they were seizing stuff left and right. I had an itemized list with values on it, but who is to say if they will believe me? This was fairly obscure stuff I had here!!
I immediately pulled out a letter that Robert Cain, the fellow luthier, had prepared for us. It explained who we were, what we were doing and where, all in Kreyol, the local language. She read the letter, studied me for a moment and said, “Thank you, enjoy your stay in Haiti”.
!!!!!!! I can’t believe it!!!!
I am so happy to not have to pay the tax. I had the money set aside, but anything that I do not have to pay to the government, I can donate to the St. Trinite Music program, so I am ecstatic. J
My relief and joy quickly disappeared when I exited the building and found myself in front of a chain link fence holding back hundreds of men shouting at me. “Taxi?! Taxi?!” they said. Or, ‘Sister, do you need a hotel?!?! “ The sun is beating down on me and I do not see anyone with a little white sign saying ‘Anna Huthmaker-Bow Queen’ on it. One of the men looked at me and said that if someone was there to meet me, I had to walk a block down the side walk to meet them. Hmmm…..I don’t know about this. That looks as if you are leaving the relative safety of the airport. He saw the reluctance on my face and shrugged, saying that it was the truth and that I didn’t have to believe him if I didn’t want to. Oh well….in for a dime, in for a dollar. Off I went, down the sidewalk.
Luckily, I soon heard my name being called and looked up to see three volunteers from Appleton University in Wisconsin. Sarah, Sarah and Jordan were huddled in the shade waiting for me and Keith, a band director from Connecticut, and before long we were being bundled into two vehicles and heading out of the airport. Everyone else is in a van and I am in a pickup truck with a strange man that doesn’t speak any English. As he lurches out of the airport into the Haitian traffic, the full effect of where I am hits me. We immediately pull onto a road that is teeming with drivers that are accelerating and braking with all of the energy of Salmon swimming upstream. There are cars everywhere honking and vying for space, most of which seem like it is there personal mission to drive everyone else off the road. I am not kidding when I say that pedestrians are jumping out of the way for their lives and the wild dogs that are everywhere seem to have a canny sense for how to dodge the insane traffic.
The heat is stifling and the smells….well, they are terrible. We drive next to a giant tent city and all I can see are people everywhere, cars everywhere, trash and poverty everywhere. As we drove past devastated buildings I feel my chest constrict. I truly feel like I have entered hell.
I took a few deep breaths and told myself that I had that length of this drive to be overwhelmed. But that when we got to the church, I had to pull it together. As it was said to Frodo in the Lord of the Rings, “You can’t get anywhere by being shocked and sad”. And I wasn’t going to be that girl…the one that dissolved into tears every time she saw something terrible. That is not what the people of Haiti need, and if I am going to make it here, that is certainly not what I need.
We drove for about a half hour through tiny, winding streets full of so much smog, noise and trash that I thought I would go crazy. However, we finally pulled up in front of a church behind the van full of my new friends and started to haul our stuff in. As we shoulder our way through the men standing in front of the door, I wonder if it is as dangerous as it feels. I am so unsure about everything at this point that I am pretty sure that my head will explode!!
But we all make it inside and into our respective rooms with no incident. Everyone is super nice to me, coming up to introduce themselves. I frantically try and remember names and wonder how soon I can actually just go to bed, without being rude. However, a quick invitation to go next door to the hotel for a beer turns into a nice evening getting to know the other volunteers and when I finally do unroll my sleeping pad on the floor of the office that I am sharing with four other women, I breath easier. This won’t be so bad…….
Bonswa,
Anna
We’re Gonna Dance Upon This Earth! |