Let's recap:
Right now in Haiti, every NGO worker I know has a curfew and tight security restrictions. There are riots across the country against UN troops. There is a cholera epidemic that has killed over 1,200 people. There are earthquake survivors living in 1,300 camps across Port-au-Prince. The infrastructure is a shambles. There are reports of arms being smuggled into the country in anticipation of the presidential elections this weekend. My boss left the country on Friday with her daughter because of the deteriorating security situation.
And today at a meeting with USAID, they off-handedly mentioned that danger pay has been discontinued for Haiti. What does this mean? It means that in the midst of all that is currently going on, I just took a 20% pay cut.
Shame on you, USAID.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
On Cholera + Elections
Everybody thought that after the January 12 earthquake, an outbreak of diarrheal disease was inevitable and would be tragic for Haiti.
Instead, we were hit with cholera 10 months after the quake and the timing is just as bad or worse than it would have been if cholera hit us in February.
Between the voodoo and a history of traumatic political leadership, Haitians are a suspicious people. Remember World Handwashing Day on October 15th? Some may call it fortuitous that World Handwashing Day messages on good hygiene and diarrhea prevention and treatment were still being disseminated when the first case of cholera was confirmed a week later. Some people though it was no coincidence: that the government (or whomever) knew cholera was going to hit. Keep in mind that presidential elections are on November 28 - everyone is expecting some sort of funny business.
Last Saturday, I had organized an event for the PSI all-staff meeting for everyone to practice doing marketplace promotions of our products. This was done on the PSI compound but afterwards the group went into the camp next door to talk one-on-one with the residents on prevention of cholera (handwashing, water treatment, ORS). I was in Jupiter that day, but when I asked my colleagues about it later, ALL of them said they faced resistance to the cholera prevention messages because some people blew cholera off as "politics."
I'm not really sure what that means. It could mean that the cholera epidemic is a fabrication of the government - a pre-election strategy of some kind. Some people clearly think that UN troops from Nepal are responsible for the outbreak, as demonstrated by violent protests yesterday in Cap-Haitian (no where near me). Political candidates in next week's elections are apparently fueling this fire and vowing to get to the bottom of "this" (the origin of the epidemic?) and hold the UN (or whomever) accountable.
Given that the US mission here is the only assurance of violence-free elections, leading the population to believe the peacekeeping troops are responsible for cholera is not in the interest of anyone interested in free and fair elections.
Instead, we were hit with cholera 10 months after the quake and the timing is just as bad or worse than it would have been if cholera hit us in February.
Between the voodoo and a history of traumatic political leadership, Haitians are a suspicious people. Remember World Handwashing Day on October 15th? Some may call it fortuitous that World Handwashing Day messages on good hygiene and diarrhea prevention and treatment were still being disseminated when the first case of cholera was confirmed a week later. Some people though it was no coincidence: that the government (or whomever) knew cholera was going to hit. Keep in mind that presidential elections are on November 28 - everyone is expecting some sort of funny business.
Last Saturday, I had organized an event for the PSI all-staff meeting for everyone to practice doing marketplace promotions of our products. This was done on the PSI compound but afterwards the group went into the camp next door to talk one-on-one with the residents on prevention of cholera (handwashing, water treatment, ORS). I was in Jupiter that day, but when I asked my colleagues about it later, ALL of them said they faced resistance to the cholera prevention messages because some people blew cholera off as "politics."
I'm not really sure what that means. It could mean that the cholera epidemic is a fabrication of the government - a pre-election strategy of some kind. Some people clearly think that UN troops from Nepal are responsible for the outbreak, as demonstrated by violent protests yesterday in Cap-Haitian (no where near me). Political candidates in next week's elections are apparently fueling this fire and vowing to get to the bottom of "this" (the origin of the epidemic?) and hold the UN (or whomever) accountable.Given that the US mission here is the only assurance of violence-free elections, leading the population to believe the peacekeeping troops are responsible for cholera is not in the interest of anyone interested in free and fair elections.
On the Kindle Apologia
Might as well get this out there once and for all: I just bought a Kindle. Yes, a Kindle! And I'm not afraid to say that I love it!
Don't give me that hesitation, the slight recoil of disappointment, the minute sniff of disdain! I don't hate books! Books and I go way back. We were friends before I knew what I friend was. Getting a Kindle is not a betrayal of our friendship!
I love the way books smell - especially the musty, familiar smell of all library books.
I love the feel of the paper.
I appreciate a good font choice.
I love it when a book falls open in my hand.
I like the texture of a book cover.
I plan to own a children's bookshop/coffee shop in my next life.
But I don't like the weight of three books in my carry-on luggage. I read fast. Even a week-long trip requires at least two books. And since the chaos of Haiti's baggage terminal has made me allergic to checked luggage, books have become a bit of a pain to carry around. Literally.
Enter the Kindle. I weighs as much as an issue of The Economist and contains enough reading material for a year of travel. And I can buy books instantly, even in Haiti! Go ahead - recommend a book to me! Not only can I find it, but I can read it as fast as I want to without the fear of running out of precious, precious reading material.
Capiche?
I love the way books smell - especially the musty, familiar smell of all library books.
I love the feel of the paper.
I appreciate a good font choice.
I love it when a book falls open in my hand.
I like the texture of a book cover.
I plan to own a children's bookshop/coffee shop in my next life.
But I don't like the weight of three books in my carry-on luggage. I read fast. Even a week-long trip requires at least two books. And since the chaos of Haiti's baggage terminal has made me allergic to checked luggage, books have become a bit of a pain to carry around. Literally.
Enter the Kindle. I weighs as much as an issue of The Economist and contains enough reading material for a year of travel. And I can buy books instantly, even in Haiti! Go ahead - recommend a book to me! Not only can I find it, but I can read it as fast as I want to without the fear of running out of precious, precious reading material.
Capiche?
On Jupiter
I just returned to Haiti after four glorious days in Jupiter, Florida, with, well, quality people. Mentally, it was as far from Haiti as the 7th planet from the sun. There was story-telling, Staceysgiving cooking, beach walking, kayaking, and gold lame dress wearing (Wholesale. From China).
My favorite part was creeping out onto the balcony with the first light of day with a cup of coffee...watching the intercoastal waterway warm into the morning... knowing the girls would join me as they awoke, one by one.
My favorite part was creeping out onto the balcony with the first light of day with a cup of coffee...watching the intercoastal waterway warm into the morning... knowing the girls would join me as they awoke, one by one.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
On Bad Luck Island
I left for Cuba in the midst of a cholera frenzy and return to a hurricane watch. People in camps are being told to go find someplace else to be for a couple of days (heh). This is surreal. I've checked the forecast on several sites and still haven't found one that doesn't have Tomas as a category 1hurricane tracking through Haiti. When do Haitians get to wake up to happy surprises? How about a lifetime supply of clean water? Hot air balloon rides for everyone?
I'm having a party on Saturday. Don't you dare crash it, Tomas. Don't you dare.
I'm having a party on Saturday. Don't you dare crash it, Tomas. Don't you dare.
Monday, November 1, 2010
On Cuba: Stirrups and Cigars
After days of meandering around Havana, sipping chocolate drinks at the Museo de Chocolate and eating coconut pastries, Alex and I took a bus (such a nice bus!) to the tiny village of Vinales, 3.5 hours from Havana. Vinales rests in a valley surrounded by limestone formations and covered with tiny plots of farmland, mostly tobacco. The road there was smooth and straight (we saw few other vehicles), the bus was air conditioned, on time, and looked newish. So nice! We passed fields of rice and sugarcane and stopped at a small reservoir with a floating trampoline that blew my mind. Why didn't I think of that?
Luis, the owner of our Havana casa, made arrangements for us to stay at the casa of a friend. Margarita was a warm, motherly woman, famous, she tells us, for her beer chicken (it was splendid). She gave us guava juice and called in someone's nephew, Able-the-guide, to take us horseback riding through the valley.
While Alex and I are in possession of many talents, we're not exactly experienced horsewomen. Which is to say, our horses knew their way (and knew we didn't) so they ignored us (rightly so) and our bums were smarting within minutes. My stirrups were way too long for me, which meant that I spent as much time airborne as I did in the saddle. The sound of my bum hitting the saddle no doubt warmed the hearts of chiropractors everywhere.
We followed trails that skirted fields of newly planted tobacco, sweet potato, black beans, and rice. The few men we saw working the fields all wore the same kinds of clothes: leather hats, shirts unbuttoned in the heat, baggy belted trousers, gum boots, and a cigar dangling from their lips.
Alex and I discovered how challenging it is to dangle one's cigar when we stopped at the shack of a leathery old man for a break. He made us rum drinks from coconut water, honey, grapefruit juice, and rum, served in a coconut. He also showed us how he roll cigars. All the farmers around there were granted land by the government on condition that they grow tobacco. Ninety-percent of what they grow is for the government. Our old man ferments his 10% in fruit juices, cinnamon, and honey. He seals them with honey, too. The cigar he gave us to smoke was even dipped in honey (Alex, always willing to think the best of me, thought it was my slobber).
So we drank rum and smoked cigars and watched the vultures and the approaching rain and double rainbow and I think it was one of the best afternoons ever.
Luis, the owner of our Havana casa, made arrangements for us to stay at the casa of a friend. Margarita was a warm, motherly woman, famous, she tells us, for her beer chicken (it was splendid). She gave us guava juice and called in someone's nephew, Able-the-guide, to take us horseback riding through the valley.
While Alex and I are in possession of many talents, we're not exactly experienced horsewomen. Which is to say, our horses knew their way (and knew we didn't) so they ignored us (rightly so) and our bums were smarting within minutes. My stirrups were way too long for me, which meant that I spent as much time airborne as I did in the saddle. The sound of my bum hitting the saddle no doubt warmed the hearts of chiropractors everywhere.
We followed trails that skirted fields of newly planted tobacco, sweet potato, black beans, and rice. The few men we saw working the fields all wore the same kinds of clothes: leather hats, shirts unbuttoned in the heat, baggy belted trousers, gum boots, and a cigar dangling from their lips.
Alex and I discovered how challenging it is to dangle one's cigar when we stopped at the shack of a leathery old man for a break. He made us rum drinks from coconut water, honey, grapefruit juice, and rum, served in a coconut. He also showed us how he roll cigars. All the farmers around there were granted land by the government on condition that they grow tobacco. Ninety-percent of what they grow is for the government. Our old man ferments his 10% in fruit juices, cinnamon, and honey. He seals them with honey, too. The cigar he gave us to smoke was even dipped in honey (Alex, always willing to think the best of me, thought it was my slobber).
So we drank rum and smoked cigars and watched the vultures and the approaching rain and double rainbow and I think it was one of the best afternoons ever.
On Cuba: Mojitos
Well, I'm disappointed. My first Cuban mojito on a breezy afternoon overlooking the sea was made with lime juice concentrate.
Wha??
It was overly sugary, the mint was decorative, and it lacked any indication that it was somehow more authentic than what you or I could make. I had two. After all, a warm breeze and sea view count for a lot.
I did notice, in my survey of Havana mojitos, that many were finished with a dash of Angostura bitters. My survey did not include the Hotel Ambos Mundos where Hemingway famously sipped on mojitos with champagne - I feared disappointment there, too.
Here's what I think tastes good:
squeezed fresh lime juice
brown sugar syrup (1:1 sugar to water) with mint/ginger thrown in if you like
muddled mint (properly bruised to release flavour)
soda water
white rum
I don't think the proportions need to be spelled out - to each her own. A dash of Pimms or Angostura is a nice finish. Should you find yourself with any left over mojitos (I dunno), pour the liquid part into a baking dish and put it in the freezer. Rake a fork through it every hour or so, and in about 4-6 hours, you get a nice mojito granitas!
Salut!
Wha??
It was overly sugary, the mint was decorative, and it lacked any indication that it was somehow more authentic than what you or I could make. I had two. After all, a warm breeze and sea view count for a lot.
I did notice, in my survey of Havana mojitos, that many were finished with a dash of Angostura bitters. My survey did not include the Hotel Ambos Mundos where Hemingway famously sipped on mojitos with champagne - I feared disappointment there, too.
Here's what I think tastes good:
squeezed fresh lime juice
brown sugar syrup (1:1 sugar to water) with mint/ginger thrown in if you like
muddled mint (properly bruised to release flavour)
soda water
white rum
I don't think the proportions need to be spelled out - to each her own. A dash of Pimms or Angostura is a nice finish. Should you find yourself with any left over mojitos (I dunno), pour the liquid part into a baking dish and put it in the freezer. Rake a fork through it every hour or so, and in about 4-6 hours, you get a nice mojito granitas!
Salut!
On Cuba: R&R is Fun!
This is my first rest and recuperation (R&R) trip from Haiti and I've never looked forward to it more! As it turned out, both my friend, Alex, and I were thinking about going to Cuba, so we coordinated efforts and planned to meet there. Alex travels a lot but despite having known each other for 13 years, I realized we'd never travelled to a new place together.
I was surprised to find a stupid grin on my face when I stood in line for Cuba immigration. I was in Cuba! The cholera epidemic in Haiti was a bit of a concern for me - would the public health-minded Cubans turn me away? There were many immigration officers milling about maybe even two for every passenger. Several of them politely asked for my documents. The women's uniforms made me smile: they consisted of a buttoned shirt, a minuscule skirt, and fishnet stockings of all patterns.
I arrived a day before Alex. The taxi driver was very friendly (being Brazilian makes me nearly as popular as the Brazilian soaps watched in Cuba) and offered me his nephew (a very serious man) as a companion and then asked me to go to a comedy show with him. I decided to hold out for better offers.
Many families in Cuba rent out rooms to tourists to make a little extra income. The casa we stayed at was on a narrow, shabby street, but inside, it was a wonder. Art nouveau stained glass everywhere. Chandeliers in every room and even in doorways. Over breakfast the next morning, I met the other two guests, Beverly and Graham, a charming British couple who instantly took me under their wing. We wandered down the Malecon (the 8km seawall) towards Habana Vieja (old Havana) and down a tree-lined boulevard with old, old buildings on either side.
Havana was not what I expected. It must be an art historian's paradise. I could spend a year studying the different patterns of wrought iron railings on balconies there. But for every ornate building that looks like it came straight from Paris, there are ten that look like they had been through the Blitz. It was more than peeling paint and dilapidated shutters. Whole sections of mortar or entire walls were crumbling into piles on second floor balconies. It reminded me so much of Port-au-Prince that my eyes kept searching for the stencils on the walls used in Haiti to access earthquake damage.
My new friends and I stopped for a coffee at a veranda of a hotel where a band was playing then wandered further down the old part of town with cobbled streets and majestic squares. At one point, we sat on park benches and Graham dozed off while Beverly and I people-watched.
I left them in the afternoon and wandered back towards the Malecon to watch the guys fishing away their Sunday afternoons. I got drowsy from all the non-exertion I had done and lay down on the seawall to take a nap. I've decided that to nap alone in a public place is one my favourite luxuries.
I was surprised to find a stupid grin on my face when I stood in line for Cuba immigration. I was in Cuba! The cholera epidemic in Haiti was a bit of a concern for me - would the public health-minded Cubans turn me away? There were many immigration officers milling about maybe even two for every passenger. Several of them politely asked for my documents. The women's uniforms made me smile: they consisted of a buttoned shirt, a minuscule skirt, and fishnet stockings of all patterns.
I arrived a day before Alex. The taxi driver was very friendly (being Brazilian makes me nearly as popular as the Brazilian soaps watched in Cuba) and offered me his nephew (a very serious man) as a companion and then asked me to go to a comedy show with him. I decided to hold out for better offers.
Many families in Cuba rent out rooms to tourists to make a little extra income. The casa we stayed at was on a narrow, shabby street, but inside, it was a wonder. Art nouveau stained glass everywhere. Chandeliers in every room and even in doorways. Over breakfast the next morning, I met the other two guests, Beverly and Graham, a charming British couple who instantly took me under their wing. We wandered down the Malecon (the 8km seawall) towards Habana Vieja (old Havana) and down a tree-lined boulevard with old, old buildings on either side.
Havana was not what I expected. It must be an art historian's paradise. I could spend a year studying the different patterns of wrought iron railings on balconies there. But for every ornate building that looks like it came straight from Paris, there are ten that look like they had been through the Blitz. It was more than peeling paint and dilapidated shutters. Whole sections of mortar or entire walls were crumbling into piles on second floor balconies. It reminded me so much of Port-au-Prince that my eyes kept searching for the stencils on the walls used in Haiti to access earthquake damage.
My new friends and I stopped for a coffee at a veranda of a hotel where a band was playing then wandered further down the old part of town with cobbled streets and majestic squares. At one point, we sat on park benches and Graham dozed off while Beverly and I people-watched.
I left them in the afternoon and wandered back towards the Malecon to watch the guys fishing away their Sunday afternoons. I got drowsy from all the non-exertion I had done and lay down on the seawall to take a nap. I've decided that to nap alone in a public place is one my favourite luxuries.
Friday, October 22, 2010
On Cholera
I was in a meeting today in which several people around the table were recounting their January 12 stories (the earthquake). They were terrifying. I found myself clutching the sides of my chair as I listened to accounts of desperate dashes across town in search of children, of a diabetic friend trapped in the rubble for two days, of the end of the world.
This came up because we were discussing the cholera outbreak that hit Haiti this week. It's the first anyone can remember and is spreading fast. USAID and CDC are in a frenzy. Text messages with URGENT!! requests for emergency response are crowding the airwaves. Amidst the frenzy is a bit of silliness. One donor sent us radio spots for cholera that were recorded in the US (uhm, why?) with such useful messages (in bad Kreyol) as "wash your food with water treated with five drops of bleach". Five drops of water....per cup? Per jug? Per tank? I suppose this kind of sloppy communication is why I am employed. I was very proud that the ministry of health rejected the spots. Hee.
Today, I heard of two cases of cholera at the outskirts of Port-au-Prince and one death. I hope they let me get on the plane to Cuba tomorrow...
This came up because we were discussing the cholera outbreak that hit Haiti this week. It's the first anyone can remember and is spreading fast. USAID and CDC are in a frenzy. Text messages with URGENT!! requests for emergency response are crowding the airwaves. Amidst the frenzy is a bit of silliness. One donor sent us radio spots for cholera that were recorded in the US (uhm, why?) with such useful messages (in bad Kreyol) as "wash your food with water treated with five drops of bleach". Five drops of water....per cup? Per jug? Per tank? I suppose this kind of sloppy communication is why I am employed. I was very proud that the ministry of health rejected the spots. Hee.
Today, I heard of two cases of cholera at the outskirts of Port-au-Prince and one death. I hope they let me get on the plane to Cuba tomorrow...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)