Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Changes in Scenery


My final week in Haiti has been diverse and memorable. We finished the houses by Friday, and even started putting in some newly-sewn colorful window curtains. I wish I had taken pictures of the houses when I first got here so that I could show the tremendous before-after difference. I think we have truly turned these houses into homes, as Paige's project title describes, and although only time will tell if our spraying, caulking, painting, and restructuring will effectively keep the bedbugs out, I know that if I were a bedbug, I'd be looking for a different place to stay.
Scooby, a veteran contributor at Espwa, took me over to his girlfriend's family's home for dinner, and also early in the morning for coffee. I was really appreciative of that, because it allowed me to really get the flavor of the local villagers' typical lifestyle: how they cook, how the eat, what they talk about, what they think about, how they interact. It's a very simple life by my standards, but they are used to it, and to them a "hustle and bustle" life of suits, deadlines, and detailed schedules would be strange and discomforting. Although Haitians generally don't value materials and time-efficiency the same way we do, they make absolutely sure that their guests are content. I think that hospitality is a universal value, and to me that's a very neat thing about all people--no matter how rich, poor, simple, or fast-paced a culture's lifestyle is, everyone takes pride in their own group, and wants visitors to remember it in a positive light.
On Saturday we went to yet another beautiful beach. On the way in, we were held up by a giant bus crash in which 29 people died. Something like that puts a bit of a damper on a sunny beach trip. Apparently it was the largest automobile wreck in Haiti in 2 years, although they are actually quite common. In fact, 2 days ago I received an e-mail from a man in Germany whose Haitian wife had been in a car crash. He had found my blog through an internet search, and seeing that I was near Les Cayes and had been to the General Hospital, he was hoping to gain some information on her and the hospital. I got the number and sent it to him, but before going to the hospital, I received another email from him that he had finally gotten in touch with his wife. She is not seriously injured, but she is seriously discomforted by the quality of her treatment and the savage conditions around her. I feel terrible for both of them--the wife for feeling alone and unsafe, and the husband for feeling helpless and far away. This is just another example of how, when things go wrong in Haiti, the distress is much greater, the aid is much weaker, and the resolution is much slower than in places like Europe or the States.
On our way out of the beach, we saw some ruins from the days when the French were battling intruders for rights to the Island. There is also an extensive history of piracy associated with Haiti. Several of the infamous Captain Morgan's ships are apparently below the coastal waters of Ile a Vache. Haitians still acknowledge the existence of pirates, which smuggle black market things in and out of Haiti. Sounds fascinating in a way, although I doubt these "modern-day pirates" have eyepatches and parrots and planks.
On my last morning at Espwa, I woke up at 3 to get my last run in before we left for the bus to Port-au-Prince at 4:30. It was quite an experience to tread through the high grass and mud of Haiti in pitch darkness, hearing the sounds of toads croaking, Voodoo drums in the distance, and seeing small pairs of yellow cow eyes staring at me in the pitch blackness. It was a little scary, but more than that, I had a feeling that I was having a really fantastic and rare experience in my life. I mean, how many white suburban kids are running laps around cows in the dark at 3 in the morning in Haiti...not many. So, I guess what I felt was pride in the uniqueness of my situation.
That day was a long and informative one. In Port-au-Prince, we saw several art galleries, the Capitol Estate building (which is like a bigger version of the White House), historical museums, grand views of Haiti from high points, disgusting and tragic alleys displaying the poverty of this city, famous hotels, and a million different faces. We saw the anchor of Christopher Columbus's ship the Santa Maria, a 20 lb. golden crown, covered in an assortment of dazzling jewels, that was worn by ancient monarchs of the island, and a photographic timeline of all the leaders of Haiti since it gained its independence in the late 1700s. Seeing as more than a third of Haiti's population resides in Port-au-Prince, almost everything historical and significant having to do with Haiti is here in its capital. I'm glad I got to see it so extensively before leaving; it makes me feel like I experienced both the urban and rural aspects of Haiti.
Tomorrow I go home, and I can't help but wonder what my reaction will be to the stark change in lifestyle. My life in the U.S. and my experience in Haiti are like two different worlds, not just regarding what I have or have access to, but also how I am expected to act, what my goals are, how I look for fulfillment, and how I view the projectile of my life. There's no doubt that I am looking forward to what is waiting for me in North Carolina, and then in Chicago. However, after seeing that this world exists, I find the thought of re-injecting myself back into 'life as usual' a bit disturbing. While I am eating nice meals, thinking about school deadlines, and following ESPN results, this place, and these people, will still exist, and their situation will not change much at all. Of course, they have existed long before I came and saw Haiti for myself. I suppose it bothers me that such a powerfully desperate situation, and so many unfortunate lives, can be completely out of my scope of awareness while I am in a far away life, continously occupied by things that are, relatively speaking, entirely insignificant. Most discomforting of all is my certainty that I will inevitably adjust to my padded life back at home, and the memories and concerns of this place will begin to lose their freshness and power. I think that acclimation to one's environment is a natural human tendency, and I can't hope for my experiences in Haiti to continue to captivate me and consume my mind the way they do right now. Nevertheless, I came here to develop a relationship with Pwoje Espwa, and with Haiti in general--I owe it to myself and to the people I've met here to come back. The relationship has been formed--I have seen this place; that is an important first step, but I want to contribute in a more profound way in the future. Therefore, I like to think that reinvolving myself in the routines and stimulation of my life at home is not a tragedy so long as I maintain that relationship.
I think that changes in scenery are a common and important part of life. Though it is often hard to leave certain times and people behind, there are always new rewards ahead of us in the form of new places, and new experiences with new people. But revisiting old scenery is also one of the rewarding parts of life. I was only in Haiti for a summer, but my time here has impacted me significantly, and I think that my experience here should not be allowed to fade away and be forgotten. I may go back to life as usual, but I will go back with knowledge of another world. My passions and convictions about this place may dilute for some time, but they won't disappear. I don't think anyone who has experienced Haiti could ever forget it, and that's what makes me confident that it is not a question of whether I will come back, but when.

2 comments:

Unknown said...

Mark, it was great meeting you in June. I know that your experience with Espwa and in Haiti will stay with you forever, no matter how well you adjust back to life in the States. Papa Dan

juliebug923 said...

Mark! I am so impressed!! What a trip. I want to hear so much more. I wish I was there with you - even though with your great entries I felt pretty close to being there with you. I'm so proud of you!

Julie