A few friends and I took a walk around Port au Prince on Saturday. We stopped by the Hotel Oloffson again, this time during the day, for an afternoon beverage and to cool off.
Richard A. Morse (RAM), the band leader I mentioned below who is also the manager of the Oloffson, was there. We had the chance to talk with him and have him tell us about several stories about the harassment and attacks that he and has been have been through over the years. Good stories, great guy.
Just now, I googled "Craigslist Haiti" because I'm looking into vehicles for sale here and also places to stay. The first hit was this letter from Richard to UN Secretary General Ban Ki-Moon entitled:
I liked it so much I wanted to put it on my blog.
Thanks, Richard, for standing up for the people of Haiti. Again.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Friday, April 10, 2009
Last night in Port au Prince
Hi! Sorry I've been away from blogging for so long. A lot has happened since my last posting 3 weeks ago.
Basically, just learning how to live and work day-to-day in Haiti has been overwhelming in many ways. In Haiti, just having time and space to think--much less to write anything coherent AND have internet access with which to post--can seem like luxuries that are hard to come by. I finally have all of these, for now.
I'll try to start catching up on getting some blog postings up. They may not be in chronological order, but hopefully that won't matter much.
********************
Last night I had a rare social opportunity in Haiti. I was invited to join a group of people from the U.S. to see this band
perform at this legendary hotel
The band's leader is Richard Auguste Morse--the band takes its name from his initials. Morse is U.S. citizen, born in Puerto Rico to a Haitian parent and a U.S.-American parent. He is also the manager of the Olofsson.
The band's performance last night was powerful and mesmerizing. Below is a video I took. Morse can be seen on the right with the black scarf covering his head:
Turns out that Morse and RAM have an impressive history of speaking out through their music against violence and corruption in Haiti. I didn't know any of this when I was witnessing the band's performance last night. Just learned all this today from reading on the internet.
Here's an account of Morse being kidnapped right off the stage at the Oloffson:
"One of the most dangerous moments for the band and for Morse personally occurred on September 8, 1994. This was during the time when Haiti was ruled by the military junta that took over after the 1991 CIA-backed overthrow of Haiti's first democratically president, Jean Bertrand Aristede.
"RAM was performing their regular Thursday night concert at the Hotel Oloffson [this same weekly performance I attended last night]. One of the audience members was a military officer who decided to enforce the ban on one of RAM's songs that was widely interpretted as critical of the military junta that ran the country. The officer ordered RAM to stop playing the song.
"The band played on. Morse, known to be the leader of the band, was physically carried out of the hotel by armed men. Using a wireless microphone, he sang a verse in Kréyòl that was not in the song, "Kadja bosou a ye ma prale" - a prayer to the Vodou loa to grant him safe passage. His kidnappers released him and took another captive instead. Concerned about the safety of their fans, the band ceased performing for several weeks."
My kinda guy. Anyone who uses cross-cultural art to boldly speak the truth, and risks everything in doing so, has a fan in me.
[As it turns out, the incident above occured less than two weeks before Clinton ordered a military operation in Haiti that restored Aristede to power.]
In this next video, you can see the long horns being played, which are synonimous with Rara music.
Rara is an indigenous Haitian musical form that somehow incorporates Voudou, politics and the celebration of Easter.
Especially during this week leading up to Easter, Rara bands take to the streets and spontaneously draw large crowds that follow them around the neighborhoods, chanting along with the band. The sound of rara bands in the streets around where I'm staying here in Port au Prince is nearly constant.
I love Rara. One of my absolute highlights from being in DC for Obama's inauguration was encountering a Brooklyn-based rara band moving through the crowd that was there to celebrate Obama's victory. Here's a video I made of them on that cold and wonderful January day in DC:
OK, that's rara in Washington DC.
Now, listen to this clip from RAM's show the other night. I think it's the same tune, right?
Here's one more video of RAM, which I loved:
So that's what the music was like.
The crowd was the other part of the story last night. The Thursday night RAM shows are known for drawing a great variety of people. This was in fact the case. It was easy--at least for me--to get the impression that at last night's show that every blan in the country was there. ("Blan" in the Creole word for foreigner, though it derives from the French word for "white" and so has racial connotations, too.) There were indeed lots of foreigners there. And lots of Haitians, too. A nice mix.
One of the people I went to the show with is a really nice guy named Matthew. He's a research intern from Cornell University. He and I had been talking at a table outside for awhile when a young Haitian woman came over to us and seemed to ask us in Creole what we wanted. Matthew and I assumed she was a waitress, and proceeded to ask her in our broken Creole for a menu. She seemed at first to not understand us, even though we were adamant that we were hungry and wanted to eat. Then there was a moment when it seemed that she understood. She gestured to me to follow her, and I did. Off the porch and down a poorly lit and out of the way path away from the hotel. Had I not had a few drinks, I probably would not have followed her so readily. Oh well. When we arrived at an isolated and relatively private spot, this young woman turned and looked at in me in a way that clarified that she was working, she was not a waitress. What she was offering not mange (food) but rather sex.
"No, mesi" I said, trying to be as polite as I could in a very awkward moment. She persisted only a little, but when she realized I wasn't going to accept her offer she took my hand, dropped to her knees and started to beg me for a few dollars. This was beyond awkward. This was painful. I said "Madame, souple" and pulled her back up to standing. I looked her in the eye and said "Kijan ou rele?" (What is your name?)
"Bellinda", she said.
"Bellinda, kisa ou vle?" (what do you want?) She said she wanted a beer. So I walked back to the bar with her and bought her a beer. We sat a table. She asked me one more time if I wanted to sleep with her. When I said no, she asked me if I wanted to dance. We danced. Then I kissed her on the cheek and said goodnight.
That was last night in Port au Prince, for me.
Basically, just learning how to live and work day-to-day in Haiti has been overwhelming in many ways. In Haiti, just having time and space to think--much less to write anything coherent AND have internet access with which to post--can seem like luxuries that are hard to come by. I finally have all of these, for now.
I'll try to start catching up on getting some blog postings up. They may not be in chronological order, but hopefully that won't matter much.
********************
Last night I had a rare social opportunity in Haiti. I was invited to join a group of people from the U.S. to see this band
perform at this legendary hotel
The band's leader is Richard Auguste Morse--the band takes its name from his initials. Morse is U.S. citizen, born in Puerto Rico to a Haitian parent and a U.S.-American parent. He is also the manager of the Olofsson.
The band's performance last night was powerful and mesmerizing. Below is a video I took. Morse can be seen on the right with the black scarf covering his head:
Turns out that Morse and RAM have an impressive history of speaking out through their music against violence and corruption in Haiti. I didn't know any of this when I was witnessing the band's performance last night. Just learned all this today from reading on the internet.
Here's an account of Morse being kidnapped right off the stage at the Oloffson:
"One of the most dangerous moments for the band and for Morse personally occurred on September 8, 1994. This was during the time when Haiti was ruled by the military junta that took over after the 1991 CIA-backed overthrow of Haiti's first democratically president, Jean Bertrand Aristede.
"RAM was performing their regular Thursday night concert at the Hotel Oloffson [this same weekly performance I attended last night]. One of the audience members was a military officer who decided to enforce the ban on one of RAM's songs that was widely interpretted as critical of the military junta that ran the country. The officer ordered RAM to stop playing the song.
"The band played on. Morse, known to be the leader of the band, was physically carried out of the hotel by armed men. Using a wireless microphone, he sang a verse in Kréyòl that was not in the song, "Kadja bosou a ye ma prale" - a prayer to the Vodou loa to grant him safe passage. His kidnappers released him and took another captive instead. Concerned about the safety of their fans, the band ceased performing for several weeks."
My kinda guy. Anyone who uses cross-cultural art to boldly speak the truth, and risks everything in doing so, has a fan in me.
[As it turns out, the incident above occured less than two weeks before Clinton ordered a military operation in Haiti that restored Aristede to power.]
In this next video, you can see the long horns being played, which are synonimous with Rara music.
Rara is an indigenous Haitian musical form that somehow incorporates Voudou, politics and the celebration of Easter.
Especially during this week leading up to Easter, Rara bands take to the streets and spontaneously draw large crowds that follow them around the neighborhoods, chanting along with the band. The sound of rara bands in the streets around where I'm staying here in Port au Prince is nearly constant.
I love Rara. One of my absolute highlights from being in DC for Obama's inauguration was encountering a Brooklyn-based rara band moving through the crowd that was there to celebrate Obama's victory. Here's a video I made of them on that cold and wonderful January day in DC:
OK, that's rara in Washington DC.
Now, listen to this clip from RAM's show the other night. I think it's the same tune, right?
Here's one more video of RAM, which I loved:
So that's what the music was like.
The crowd was the other part of the story last night. The Thursday night RAM shows are known for drawing a great variety of people. This was in fact the case. It was easy--at least for me--to get the impression that at last night's show that every blan in the country was there. ("Blan" in the Creole word for foreigner, though it derives from the French word for "white" and so has racial connotations, too.) There were indeed lots of foreigners there. And lots of Haitians, too. A nice mix.
One of the people I went to the show with is a really nice guy named Matthew. He's a research intern from Cornell University. He and I had been talking at a table outside for awhile when a young Haitian woman came over to us and seemed to ask us in Creole what we wanted. Matthew and I assumed she was a waitress, and proceeded to ask her in our broken Creole for a menu. She seemed at first to not understand us, even though we were adamant that we were hungry and wanted to eat. Then there was a moment when it seemed that she understood. She gestured to me to follow her, and I did. Off the porch and down a poorly lit and out of the way path away from the hotel. Had I not had a few drinks, I probably would not have followed her so readily. Oh well. When we arrived at an isolated and relatively private spot, this young woman turned and looked at in me in a way that clarified that she was working, she was not a waitress. What she was offering not mange (food) but rather sex.
"No, mesi" I said, trying to be as polite as I could in a very awkward moment. She persisted only a little, but when she realized I wasn't going to accept her offer she took my hand, dropped to her knees and started to beg me for a few dollars. This was beyond awkward. This was painful. I said "Madame, souple" and pulled her back up to standing. I looked her in the eye and said "Kijan ou rele?" (What is your name?)
"Bellinda", she said.
"Bellinda, kisa ou vle?" (what do you want?) She said she wanted a beer. So I walked back to the bar with her and bought her a beer. We sat a table. She asked me one more time if I wanted to sleep with her. When I said no, she asked me if I wanted to dance. We danced. Then I kissed her on the cheek and said goodnight.
That was last night in Port au Prince, for me.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Day 3: Why I'm Here
Today the organization that I am working for, the APF (Association of Peasants of Fondwa) held its bi-weekly Executive Committee meeting today, which I attended as the newest member of the Committee. It was very inspiring. More on that below.
Here are some photos of the setting of the meeting:
This is the Solidarite Guest House where we had our meeting. On the steps is Sampeur, known by everyone as "Agronom", in recognition of and respect for his training as an agronomist. I learned today that he and I will be roommates in Fondwa.
The room where we met.
From the wall of the room where we met.
It's a symbolic commemoration of the date and place where the Haitian flag was created by removing the white (middle) third of the French tri-color flag. The flag is an important symbol for Haitians, who are generally proud of their country's status as the first successful slave revolt in the world, the second country in the Western Hemispere to become independent of a European colonial power, and the world's first republic founded by African-heritage people.
Removing the white stripe was obviously symbolic of Haitians achieving their liberation by removing the white people from their land. Though white people are a bit of a novelty here, Haitians are generally welcoming of people of all skin colors. African-heritage people didn't invent modern racism. White (European-heritage) people did.
OK, that's it for today's history lesson. :-)
I'm way behind on my email due to last night's cloud cover, so I'll keep this short (for me).
Today's meeting was very inspiring. I was warmly welcomed by my APF colleagues. My Creole is coming along piti piti (little by little). The meeting was conducted entirely in Creole, but my new friend and colleague, Josue, translated for me.
Here is a short video clip from the meeting:
Below is a document I created during the meeting that I think captures why I am here, working for this particular project. I think the only information you need to understand what I've written below is that the APF is a local association of peasants that for the last 21 years has been striving to create a model of democratic and sustainable development "from below"--by and for poor people.
Hopefully the rest below will explain itself, but feel free to ask questions.
Oh, one more thing. My big achievement for yesterday was getting a Haitian cell phone. In case you've always wanted to call Haiti but never knew who to call, this is your lucky day! My number in Haiti from the US is 1-509-3-842-1889. Skype is a cheap way to call.
***********************
The work of the APF (including UNIF and SEKONAPA):
Creating an international model for the world
From my point of view, the work of the APF is of great importance, for
1. Sustainable development is an issue for the whole world.
The work of sustainable development must be taken up by people all over the world, because the way of life in most places in the world—especially in “developed countries”—is not sustainable. The APF represents a model of ordinary people taking their problems into their own hands and creating their own solutions to those problems. This is a model the whole world needs to see. If
2. The problems of poor people must be solved because the issues of the majority of the world’s people.
The APF brings democracy, dignity, empowerment and prosperity to poor people. The majority of the world’s people are poor, so this is a critical issue for the whole world.
3.
For all these reasons, the APF is a model of democratic sustainable development for the whole world, and deserves to be known and supported throughout the world.
I think this is my work for the APF: to help it be known all over the world as a model of peaceful, democratic and sustainable development, and to invite support from all over the world.
My ideas for advancing the work of the APF
Step 1: Present the work of the APF to world as a model of sustainable grassroots development through world-class web site. We need to create an integrated and elegant web presence for Fondwa that very elegantly showcases the accomplishments and vision of the APF in at least four languages: Kreyol, English, French and Spanish. Eventually, we could have more languages.
Many, many people around the world would like to know about the work of the APF. We have to make that information much more easily accessible to people everywhere. The website will also be a place where we can present our needs very clearly, and make it easier for those who want to help to do so.
Step 2: Create a step-by-step manual for creating “Communities of Support” for our work (including APF, UNIF and SEKONAPA). The manual can be made available for download from the website, and can be used by people all over the world to create support groups for our work. These groups will be woven together into an international network of solidarity and support for our work.
Step 3: Promote our website and build our network of support communities. We will find ways to integrate with these communities, either by inviting them to come here or by visiting them. Each person here could be a valuable speaker and presenter about our work. We can find many allies in building international communities of support (CIW,
Step 4: Reach out to major funders, with the ability to present ourselves as an model for international cooperative sustainable development.
Day 2: Humility and its evil twin
This would have been posted last night, but it was overcast here so the internet didn’t work. Really. The weather seems to effect everything in
Today, my second day in
I came here with good intentions, as do many people from the
Namely, “What help do I need?”
The answer, in
Haitian Creole is a wonderful language. A mix of African languages and French, it is very expressive and full of clever, colorful ways of saying things phrases. I’d love to be able to speak it. I just can’t yet. In this country of 9 million people who can, for the most part, communicate with each other just fine, I can communicate with almost none of them.
Now who needs help?
For some reason, not being able to speak to people here makes me feel like an idiot. And not a benign idiot, but a very bad person. Isn’t it strange that I would feel bad about wanting to be of help to people who, on the whole, really need help, but whose language I can’t speak? When I write it out, it seems very strange that I would feel bad about that. After all, I’ve been here about 36 hours now. Not exactly enough time to become fluent in a language. What I’ve been realizing lately is that so much of what I feel, at least sometimes, is strange like that. I seem to feel really bad about myself a lot, and for really dumb reasons.
I don’t think I’m alone in this. What things do you feel terrible about, for no really good reason?
I wish I could have come to
Summary: I felt terrible today about not being able to speak a language I’ve never had the opportunity to learn. And yet feeling bad about myself today certainly didn’t enhance my ability to learn the language (quite the opposite). Nor did it enhance my day or anyone else’s in any way.
Conclusion: feeling bad about oneself is both stupid
************************
A friend of mine moved to
My exact thought was:
”That’s great. I’ve found hell. Wanna trade places?”
This particular friend and I lived together last summer. We supported each other to trust our inner voices about what we wanted to do next in our lives. His inner voice told him to go to
How come some people’s journeys lead them to surfing (which I’ve always wanted to do, and I LOVE
Tonight I’m kinda puzzled by what seems like my obsession with being of service to those who need it the most, and doing so seemingly at the expense of myself, or at least my own comfort. This obsession of mine seems at once to have something very good about it, while at the same time being utterly bizarre, ridiculous and self-defeating.
I’m utterly baffled by this seeming contradiction within myself, and the way I make decisions about what to do with my life. And I don’t think I’ll get it figured out tonight. Feel free to send me your insights and experience about this sort of thing. Or post your thoughts under this posting.
********************************
I just had a good meeting with my boss in
He and I had breakfast together this morning, just the two of us. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the prayer he said before we ate. It was very simply and right to the point: “God, thank you for this food. Please use it to strengthen us so we can help the others.”
That’s why I’m here, and that’s why I’m working for Fr. Joseph.
In a favorite movie of mine, "Peaceful Warrior", Nick Nolte plays a wise gas station attendant who mentors a bright but foolish young man. The young man said to his mentor, “If you know so much, how come you work in a gas station?”. The teacher replied, “This is a service station. We offer service.” “Pumping gas?”, the foolish young man replies. “Service to others. There’s no higher purpose.”, replies the teacher.
Sorry, no pictures or videos with this posting. I couldn’t figure out how to take any good ones of me feeling terrible about myself, and then realizing that I’m not really terrible. :-)
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Haiti: Day 1
Hi. I just got to Haiti a few hours ago.
What am I doing here? There are many answers to that question, but here's my best try.
Last fall as four hurricanes added greatly to Haiti's already-difficult situation, the separation created by my privilege as a U.S.er became unbearable. It wasn't just that I didn't feel I was doing enough to help people here (though that was true, too). I reached a point where I could not tolerate the acceptance of my privileged distance from the suffering of people here. The cost of my own physical comfort and security as a U.S.er seemed to be ignorance of and distance from the suffering of other people. In the end, this distance seemed like too high a price to pay.
So my journey is, in one part, about wanting to help heal this country. But it's also about wanting to do away with the painful distance that I feel from people who live extremely hard lives due to the forces of racism, nationalism, imperialism, capitalism, etc.
This is the view from where I wrote this.
One more thing: big thanks to all of you who have been supporting and encouraging me to do this for the last several months. You know who you are. Special thanks to Mom, Thomas, Henry and Scott. I couldn't have gotten this far with you, and am very glad I didn't have to try.
This videos aren't terribly interesting. More just a chance for me to figure out how to put video in my blog--this is new to me. Hopefully better videos will follow.
Bye for now to the Florida coast (that's Ft. Lauderdale below)
Landing at Port au Prince airport
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