Sonje lapli sa ki leve mayi ou

Remember the rain that makes your corn grow.

Having finished up the first stage of the fountain upgrades project, I've had some time this week to catch up on a few other items on my list. While I could use this post to write about the report on our recent Latrine project or balancing our budget, I thought I'd save those subjects for another time. 

Yesterday, I was approached by Hermane, a leader/spokesperson from a remote village across the lake from where I am living in Haiti. He told me that he needs us to check out the water system there.

The history behind this water system is interesting and probably too long for this short post. Basically, we repaired/rebuilt their system about a year and a half ago now. Ever since its completion, we have been having trouble with the system, mainly with the caps at the top of the mountain gathering sufficient water.

In the past few months, DINEPA, the Haitian department of water and sanitation, began to work with the village to help them with their water needs. I'll address our relationship with DINEPA in my next post but historically, villages enjoy working with us more than DINEPA because we build better systems and are more responsive. DINEPA would not be happy about us critiquing their work or entering their domain.

Not knowing exactly what to expect, I embarked on the arduous journey across the lake by dugout canoe this morning. Here is a picture of the lake. While it may be worth a thousand words, it does not speak to how beautiful and ridiculously hot it is on the water with no shade from the sun.

At the moment, the water system in the village is not delivering enough water. The first reason for this is obvious. Someone had cut the 2" PVC pipe going to the cistern with a saw to see if it had water. 

Here is a relatively awkward picture of my trying to measure the pipe. It was in a small hole surrounded by mud, due to the fact that it was gushing water.

The second reason for the lack of water is a little more complex. The village gets its water from two capped springs at the top of the mountain. After a decent hike up and peering into both caps, it was clear that no water was being gathered.

We have always had issues with these capped springs because their recharge rates during the dry season are always low. In addition, crabs have burrowed around them which affects their ability to gather water. In the United States, we would have no issue taking measures to eliminate these crabs but the community believes that they are the spirits that bring the water in the first place. Tampering here would only make the problem worse.

Here is a picture of one of the capped springs with Hermane standing next to it.

Our conversation here went something like this (translated from Creole):

Hermane: "What can we do to get water again?"

Me: "We can fix the pipe down below, all we need is a saw, a 2" coupling and some PVC glue, but the bigger issue is that it's the dry season. There just isn't enough water."

Hermane: "Well what can we do then?"

Me: "We can do a rain dance.

We both laugh.

Me: "If the springs are dry, I don't know what else we can do."

These are the worst conversations. When you have to tell someone that there is nothing we can actively do to help them at the moment. Providing water to these villages year-round can be a Herculean task; adequate sources during the driest months are few and far between. That being said, in a few weeks, it will start raining again as the long dry season comes to a end. The springs will be overflowing and the pipe will be fixed and people will once again have easy access to fresh water. 

I got back from my excursion this afternoon. After prepping for our trip to Port-au-Prince tomorrow (we are buying the last few materials we need to finish our first project), I went and got my haircut. I don't think you can really say that you've lived somewhere until you've gotten your haircut there. 

It was 75 goude. That's less than two US dollars.

Men ampil chay pa lou

Many hands make the load lighter.

We finished the first fountain. There were several obstacles to overcome but, for the moment, work has been swiftly moving with everyone knowing their role. As James likes to say “Don’t tell an old man how to do his job” so we haven't had to do much when it comes to the labor. Once we communicated what we are trying to do, and hired the right men, the project took off.

The past week consisted mainly of me overseeing the work being done and managing the flow of money to the project. There have only been a few instances where I have had to step in and make a decision. Other than that, I have been working side-by-side with the other men, straining to tighten pipes and carefully mixing concrete.

The other day, I was helping thread galvanized pipe, a painstaking process that we have to do manually because the machine is broken. We were turning the pipe-threader with a massive wrench when it slipped and flew directly towards my crotch.

For those of you who don’t know me as well, I wear a leather belt with a large Philmont belt buckle everyday. When this heavy wrench collided with my belt buckle it made a distinct metallic sound, leaving me totally unharmed and the wrench lying on the ground between my feet.

Since my un-tucked shirt was covering my belt buckle, all the Haitians around me went crazy. They thought this white kid had balls of steel or something. I regret showing them my belt buckle since this reputation might have warded off some of the workers from asking for pay advancements or when negotiating wages.

I’m hoping to finish up the fountains this week but there is still a lot of work to do. Working this project has been exhausting but extremely rewarding and it has also really improved my language skills.

Here is a picture of me in front of the finished fountain:

Hopefully you'll see more completed fountains in the next post!

Bwe dlo nan ve, respekte ve.

If you drink water in the glass, respect the glass.

On Monday, we went hiked down to the valley nearby in order to do some surveying. Above, you see me manning the rod while James (not pictured) is manning the auto-level. We are trying to pipe water from a capped spring to a nearby collection of houses for use for fish hatcheries. The sun, heat, and humidity made it one of the hardest surveys I've ever done. It took most of the day and when we did the math later that night, we realized that we're going to have to excavate about 14 feet down in order to accommodate the piping. That's a lot of earth to move without machinery. 

Despite Carnival, a three day festival leading up to Lent, we managed to begin our first project this week: repairing and redoing the fountain distribution system here in the village where we are staying. Currently, the broken taps on every fountain are wasting a huge amount of water. In addition, the near constant flow of water makes it almost impossible to regulate our treatment system so we cannot ensure that we stay within the WHO (World Health Organization) criteria for clean water. In this picture, you can see me working with one of our foremen next to the first fountain.

Today, while still making progress on the fountain project, we managed to clean the main cistern in the village as part of our overhaul of the current water system. It was the first time that this large concrete reservoir had been cleaned in a year due to a broken ball valve. Needless to say, someone should've called Mike Rowe for this one. With the cistern finally clean, and the fountain repairs underway, we will have the evidence to prove that we are managing the only municipal clean water system in the country.

Woch nan dlo pa kone doule woch nan soley

The rock in the water does not know the pain of the rock in the sun.

It has come to my attention that I have spent almost no time giving some background on the country in which I am living.

For better or worse, Haiti resembles other extremely impoverished countries in terms of its infrastructure, GDP, family size, transportation, and major problems. The government, currently in the all-too-familiar state of “transition,” has failed to provide most people with any sort of security, education, or other public services. The reason for these failures is the subject of many PhD dissertations and books written by individuals infinitely more qualified than myself.

Instead of covering the typical topics that describe Haiti and other developing countries, I’d like to introduce a few characteristics and issues that are uniquely Haitian, and that I find separate Haiti from her peers.

Voodoo, while hidden under the surface, is very much alive throughout the country. Although the majority of Haitians are Christians, this African belief system remains steadfast and obstinately engrained in their culture.  Simply stated, voodoo concerns the idea that there are spirits everywhere that influence one’s life, from sicknesses to the weather. Talking about these spirits is a dubious proposition. Many Haitians attempt to avoid the topic entirely, especially with blans (white people).

Voodoo can be a significant barrier to aid workers here. A patient could believe that an STD is due to an unseen evil spirit rather than her husband. A water source could be contaminated not by bacteria and viruses, which can be removed by a filter, but rather by a demon sent by a neighboring village, which can be removed by a witch doctor.

Deforestation is also a problem relatively unique to Haiti. The lack of government environmental regulation, in addition to a myriad of other contributing factors, has led to the destruction of nearly all of Haiti’s natural forests as people destroy entire forests for fuel to cook. There are seven areas left with significant forests in the entire country.

Without 97% if its trees, Haiti is more prone to flooding and has lost significant agricultural output due to increased erosion of its nutrient-rich topsoil¹. Several NGOs have started programs to not only replant trees but also provide alternative means for cooking fuel such as propane.

Voodoo and deforestation are simply two subjects that I find are underrepresented in discussions involving Haiti.  In my opinion, the most developed countries in the world, in terms of public services and GDP, are successful in the same way; they possess a stable governing body. The lesser-developed countries are unsuccessful in their own way, some are plagued by terrible disease and some are restrained by deforestation, but all share one simple failure: they all lack a stable government.

¹Katel, Peter. “Haiti’s Dilemma.” The CQ Researcher. 18 Feb. 2005: 151-171

Se ou fe, se li ou we.

What you do is what you see.

This is me standing above the water source of Morne Michel, the village from which I took the first picture in my post entitled "Deye mon, gen mon." Their water is almost 200 vertical feet from where most people live. As you can tell from the concerned look on my face, this is going to be quite the project, especially when you consider how far we will have to carry all the materials. Thank god for donkeys.

Walking around the village, a white person will inevitably attract a posse of children shouting "Blan! Blan!" or "White person! White person!" They love getting their picture taken. Of course, that doesn't make them any less inclined to follow you around.

James, the other engineer here with me, and I went to assess a possible site for a new latrine project. We had an engineering student from the capital come with us so we could show him how to work the GPS. And if you think James has a nice beard going on here, you haven't seen me recently...

Se met ko kiveye ko

It is the owner of the body who looks out for the body.

We finished the medical clinics a few days ago. I can safely say that I am so grateful that I am not a Haitian pharmacist. After sampling just a few of the pills, I realized all they would do is mess with my GI tract and lower my blood pressure rather than give me hallucinations.* This is most likely because the two most popular problems we saw during the clinics were stomach pains and hypertension rather than druggies looking to get a better high.

To me, treating a Haitian village’s digestive problems by prescribing a month supply of Ranitidine is like putting a dress on a baby boy. Yes, he may look like a girl for a little while and you can pretend that he’s the princess you always wanted but you’re ignoring the larger issue here. You have a son, not a daughter, and these people’s stomachs will ache longer than their Ranitidine prescription. Their GI issues will linger so long as they lack access to clean water, sanitation, and a healthy diet. There isn’t enough Ranitidine or cute dresses to change that fact.

With this in mind, we surveyed for potential water systems at half of the villages we visited. Here is a picture I took while manning the rod for a survey. The two Haitians I am working with are students at the trade school in the area. Notice the children in the background watching us work.

I really want to push these projects through but they are delicate operations. I need to make sure there is money available for them and I am not making promises that I cannot fulfill. It is critical that the community take ownership of whatever you build, whether it is a capped spring, water purification system, or a pit latrine. There is no sustainable way to filter water or build sanitation systems; there are only sustainable communities.

This week I hope to be finish up the latrine project at the local school in addition to gathering parts to upgrade the local municipal water system. It’s been a steep learning curve so far for me but I’ve learned a lot about who to talk to and what I need to do to stay on top of everything. I’ve found that in order to be efficient and successful here you need to be persistent, resilient, and, most importantly, patient.

*This is a joke. I did not try any pills.

Deye mon, gen mon

Behind Mountains, there are mountains.

Inside the little red circle is the compound where I have been staying. Outside the little red circle is Haiti. I took this picture from one of the remote clinics that I have been working at this week with a team of American doctors. The hike to get here is the same that Tracy Kidder writes about in the beginning of his book Mountains Beyond Mountains, a book I highly suggest to any readers of this blog. 

One thing I learned this week is that Civil Engineering does not in any way prepare you for a Haitian Pharmacy. This is me and another Civil Engineer smiling before drowning in a wave of prescriptions. Also, teach-by-example does not apply when demonstrating drugs to patients. 

This is an above-ground grave, probably one of the most stable structures you'll find in the middle of Haitian wilderness. In Haiti, bodies buried underground are subject to manipulation by demons (known as Jabs) in the soil. The result of such tampering leads to zombification in which a person is unable to die, forever trapped on Earth as a zombie. Consequently, wealthier Haitians place their loved ones' bodies above-ground in these concrete coffins.

Piti, Piti, wazo fe nich li.

Little by little, the bird builds its nest.

The Super Bowl in Haiti isn’t the holiday it is in the States, or at least I hope it’s not. After waiting all day for an invitation to a Haitian Super Bowl party, I bitterly went to the local bar/restaurant with a few other expatriates to watch the game in French. While they're not any commercials, one of my Haitian friends has taken it upon himself to distract me from the game.

He is fifteen years old. Just looking at him, you’d guess that he would be closer to eight years old. Just looking at him, you’d guess he’s HIV negative too. Most days, his status has no weight on his annoying little brother persona. Other days, you can tell the antiretroviral drugs have taken their toll. Regardless, I appreciate his help with my Creole; he speaks quite clearly so I can understand him.

My Creole-speaking ability has reached the point where it has surpassed my Spanish-speaking ability. Whether this is due to Creole’s simplistic grammar, my lack of enthusiasm in my 7 years of Spanish classes, or the failure of foreign language education in the US is up to debate. Nonetheless, until I stop inadvertently discovering innuendos and start speaking in complete sentences without my fellow interlocutor laughing, I am not much of a project manager.

My lack of language skills has not been an issue so far. I spent most of the day today with the team of doctors I flew down with yesterday. They'll be running clinics in several of the remote villages around the Central Plateau this week. Word on the street is that they need help dealing drugs…

Other than dabbling in the basics of pharmaceuticals in the developing world, I have been trying to lay the groundwork for some more engineering-related projects. I hope to have the latrines at the local school finished, the Aquaculture fish ponds nearly done, and the fountains in our current locations totally upgraded before Clemson's spring break.

It’s going to be a busy week dispensing drugs in four distant villages in four hiking-heavy days. I can’t say when I’ll post next; I hope to have weekly updates in the future plus more pictures once I am totally settled.