Haiti from above

Hey,

I have spent the last week in Cap Haitien, on the north coast of the island to attend the yearly budget planning meeting of our partner sites. And it was just as thrilling as it sounds.

Things started excitingly enough, with all of us from Port-au-Prince boarding a Tortug’Air prop plane in the early morning hours. I had never been on such a small aircraft or in one where the only division between cockpit and cabin is a moth-eaten curtain. Last year, one of the flights carrying AIDSRelief program staff to the same destination crashed upon landing, costing one of the senior managers her leg. Though those on that plane understandably refuse to fly, the rest of us prefer taking our chances rather than enduring six hours on horrendous roads.

Takeoff is uneventful, the plane slowly rising over the sprawling slums encircling the airport. Nothing says poverty like endless expenses of gray shanties and half-finished concrete buildings. I am told that Haitians purposely keep constructions unfinished so they don’t have to pay full property taxes. Or maybe it’s that paint is an expensive luxury. Whatever the reason, Port-au-Prince from the air looks like a sea of dust littered with gray flotsam.

To get to the Cap, we head north and cross the mornes (mountains) of the interior. Because charcoal is the only fuel available on the island, the hills are largely devoid of trees and wildcat logging has caused the topsoil to drift into the riverbeds and eventually into the sea. There is still a very real rugged beauty about the landscape, but it is a far cry from the lush tropical scenery I would have expected.

Another thing you notice from the air is the great emptiness of the Haitian interior. Whereas coastal areas are full of teeming cities, towns and villages overcrowded with pedestrians, drivers and peddlers of all kinds, the countryside is a place of stillness and space. About the only human structure you see on the flight is the incredible Citadelle at Milot, a fortified compound built on top of a barren mountain immidiately after Haitian independence to prevent the retaking of the island by Napoleonic troops (btw, you can click on all the pictures to make them full-sized)

I can speak on the topography of these hills fairly authoritatively because the plane does not so much fly over the mornes, as between them. At times, the side of a mountain is only a few hundred yards from your window and when you do fully clear the peaks, you are close enough to see the shadow of the aircraft glide over individual boulders and bushes. Sometimes, when turbulence hits, you get even closer.

But the landing is uneventful and we make our way from the tarmac to the hangar that plays the role of an international airport (there were once flights from Miami in the good old days) and then we are off to our hotel, a nice enough establishment that we will not leave (not kidding, the only time we left hotel property was to take the group picture you see below -- see if you can spot me).

I will not describe the tedium of the five straight days of budgetary planning, only point out that one session lasted from 8:15 am to 10:45 pm with a thirty minute lunch break the only pause. The picture you see on the right was taken in the first hour, I looked considerably less alert afterwards.

So now I am back in Port-au-Prince and looking at another busy week featuring a road trip to the south. But things are looking up: I’ll be taking time off for the first time on Feb. 17-20 to visit Santo Domingo and will fly straight from there to Miami to attend yet another planning meeting. For those of you interested in coming down for the weekend, I will be free from Friday night to Sunday afternoon and plan on spending that time getting some well-earned R&R action. Email me if you’re interested in meeting up.

Well, that’s all for now. I think I’ll go watch the Super Bowl at the Hotel Montana with the other expats. Prediction: Colts 23 Bears 17.

‘laterz,

Max