Day 1

At 4:18am, I was the first to arrive at the Lynx Air counter. I was twelve minutes early for my 4:30am check-in and there was not a soul in sight. Just then, a cab pulled up outside and many bags were unloaded. A woman walks in and reads my confusion and says happily, “Cap Haitien?” Yes, I say.

Her name is Debbie and I immediately like her. Her husband is Rick. They are missionaries and have lived in Haiti for 8 years. We talk until our 6:30 departure and a bit on the plane. It is a tiny plane, the smallest I’ve ever been on, perhaps. And it’s loud. The plane ride itself, from Fort Lauderdale to Cap Haitian was amazing. Flying low over the ocean at sunrise was like a very slow movie of color and texture.

We arrive early and my new friends insist on delivering me to the SOIL office. The Haitian pastor who picks them up knows SOIL and Sasha. We arrive at SOIL as Sasha is leaving to pick me up. She is thrilled that I found my way, though I feel I did no such thing. In the SOIL house/office, the talk is about the power going out the night before. Without fans to move the air, it is brutally hot inside and most folks slept on the balcony or the roof.

What happened next is sort of a blur due to lack of sleep, too much caffeine and serious over-stimulation. Cap Haitian is full of movement, people everywhere, walking, riding a bike, a “moto” or driving. There are no street signs, traffic signs, stop lights and navigating the streets is an experience itself. Similar though to other places I have been in Latin America. I was told that if your horn and your brakes are broken and you can only afford to fix one, you fix the horn.

Four of us traveled across town on moto taxis, two passengers per moto, to meet the Jolissaint family. We talk for a while, already I see that everyone loves Sasha (SOIL’s co-counder). After a search for the keys and a few adjustments under the hood, six of us leave for Milot, a town not far from Cap. There we meet most of the SOIL/SOL staff, Josepha, Bobo, Chantal. We sit in a circle and introduce ourselves. The staff talks about their role in the organizations and answers questions. They also thank us for coming to Haiti and tell us that we are not foreigners in Haiti, we are Haitians. They are terrific, intelligent and truly revolutionary people and I look forward to working with them over the next ten days. 

We get a tour of the new SOIL garden, which is really more of a food forest- so cool! We eat grapefruit and sweet oranges off trees and suck the fruit of cocoa beans. The seed or bean is red and surrounded by a bit of fleshy white fruit. Children follow us everywhere and we pick up more and lose some along the way. We visit the Mystic Tree of Milot, a tree over 200 years old. This means that tree existed during the Haitian Revolution and as it has historically been a community meeting site, perhaps plans for the revolt were laid there.

Next we meet with one of Milot’s Mayors, a woman named Nica. She has a nine month old son who weighs 25 pounds; he is sleeping when we arrive. Nica traveled to the U.S. at the end of her pregnancy and was able to enter the country unnoticed- apparently very pregnant Haitian woman are not allowed entry to the U.S. But Nica did it and her fat and handsome son is a U.S. citizen.
We leave to return to Cap Haitian and come to a road block along the way. We have no license plates. Some things in Haiti take a very, very- even impossibly long time it seems. Sasha has told us she has been pulled over many times and always been allowed to leave but she doesn’t want to push her luck. Our papers and Sasha’s license are in order but the policeman sees we have no plates. He asks why. A second officer approaches and recognizes one of our two Haitian passengers, Rosemond Jollisaint. He is a seventeen year old musican and somewhat of a Haitian celebrity (look for his videos on YouTube!). The second officer says in Kreyol, “Are you a Jollisaint? Rosemond Jollisaint?” Yes, yes, says Rosemond. The officers looks at him suspiciously and says, “I heard your last school grades were not so good. What’s the trouble?” Rosemond blushes, Sasha and the officers and Rosemond’s brother, Wisnel all laugh and we are allowed to pass. Traveling with local celebrities in any town or country is always a good thing. Bon bagay!

We relax and talk upon our return to the house. I spend forty-five minutes on a blog post only to lose it. After dinner we watch Cry Freedom which I have not seen since it was made in 1987. It is about Steve Biko who is a hero of mine. He was a black South African journalist, writer and activist who was murdered by South African police in 1977 for his rejection of the apartheid system. I cry at the final scene like I have not cried in some time. It depicts the 1976 rally in Soweto where tens of thousands of black school children marched through the streets; they were refusing to learn Afrikaans, the language of their oppressors. 700 children died and thousands were injured. After the movie, I brush my teeth and go to my shared bedroom.

It took some work to rig a fan up to the middle of three bunks where I am sleeping. Just as we get fans directed as the three of us sleeping in the room, the power goes out and we all laugh. It is after eleven and I woke at 2:30am. I don’t even care about the fans, I am glad to be in bed.

I will likely wait until I return home before adding photos but we’ll see. The electrical and internet issues are ongoing, so we’ll see. Today we will visit Shada, the poorest of Cap Haitian’s slums. There we will start our tomato project, paint the SOIL technology center there and plant seeds with children.

Mwen renmen Ayiti!

Peace.