Haiti Revisited – Epiphany Medical Mission #3

by Reid Boswell, MD

This is my second trip to Haiti. I admit , I worry. I am not a relaxed traveler. I developed an eyebrow twitch just thinking about navigating through the windowless cavern of baggage claim at Port au Prince  airport only  to run into the Wall of Haiti customs. Last year, we were (as Arlo Guthrie once sang) “inspected, detected, neglected and rejected.” This year, I was stunned to walk into a beautifully renovated airport with brightly painted walls, escalators (you heard me, ESCALATORS) taking us down to a clean, well-lit baggage claim with bright stainless steel carousels and artwork on the walls. Magically (or with divine intervention and some hard work ahead of time), we sailed through customs with nary an evil glance and no one rifling through our baggage or wagging their finger. We walked out into 90+ degree air and almost all of us raised our face to the Caribbean sun, knowing that it was 23 degrees back in Boston. We formed a caravan of luggage carts and made our way (almost seamlessly) to the awaiting Hopital St. Croix convoy of vehicles, where  Father Kerwin DELICAT met us with open arms. The porters loaded the baggage onto the now infamous Daihatsu flat bed truck. Father Kerwin, Linda, Nick, and Jill headed straight to Leogane, in convoy with the baggage truck laden with a ton of meds and materiel, while the rest of us piled into a Landcruiser van to make a side trip to the artist colony at Croix de Bouquet.

Since I was the only member of the team who had been there, including the driver, so I was also the navigator and de facto leader. I had to rely on what little visual memory I had from last year to find the artist’s colony north of Port au Prince. Miraculously, we stumbled on the distinctive entrance to the colony and began shopping. We had three goals: buy artwork to be sold at next year’s fund-raising auction, buy art for ourselves, and find a piece or two for Jill, who couldn’t make the trip. The colony consists of row after row of small houses filled with mostly hammered tin art, exquisitely cut and molded into a variety of images: trees filled with fruits and birds, angels, mermaids, scenes of Haitian life, Bible stories, fish, butterflies, you name it. Having been there before and knowing exactly what I was looking for, I went to work immediately.  “How much?  Twenty-five? Will you take sixty for these three?. Oui.” The other members spent their time looking over the wide variety of great pieces, taking in the contrast of beautiful art displayed in a sea of squalor. I stumbled into a compound of shops obviously owned by an extended family and felt obliged to choose a piece from each booth. I think I made their day. Croix de Bouquet was fun, but also in a sense rewarding knowing that we were buying pieces we loved from artists who worked hard. Indeed, it is my sense that the recovery of Haiti may well depend in part to growing grass roots industries, rather than relying on a major governmental initiatives.

Our drive back through Port au Prince and on to Leogane was the usual swerving route that results from unique unspoken Haitian traffic rules: pass when you can, play chicken with the oncoming truck, honking and blinking of lights (which all have their own meaning), motorcycles speeding past on either side. Unlike last year when I rode in the back of the Daihatsu flatbed, risking life and limb and taking in the ever changing smells along the route, I was seated in the front seat of the van, air conditioner blasting with the recirculation obviously on to prevent the odors from wafting into our vehicle. I was alternately grateful and disappointed to miss the complex mix of olfactory assaults that accompany a ride that weaves through the city and then slowly melts into rural space. As we drove and looked, Bill and I agreed that there was real evidence of improvement: better roads, fewer tent cities, some building, and women in bright orange uniforms carefully sweeping the trash from the gutters of the streets. We arrived in Leogane and entered into the back gate, which confused me. I later learned that the main street leading to the main entrance is completely torn up because the Japanese government is installing a new sewer system (now that’s real progress!). We were welcomed by our gracious hosts Robin and Bob Sloan, and after nice cold Prestige beers and joyfully cleansing showers, we spent time introducing ourselves and listening to Robin go over the rules of the guest house and getting our questions answered. After a fantastic dinner of salad, fried plantains, rice and beef stew, we sorted out our supplies and informally gathered to talk about our expectations and worries, swap kid and baseball stories and debate whether Paul Farmer had a diagnosis to explain his genius. It is this informal time after-dinner gathering time when our team will coalesce and get ready for difficult work, both physically and emotionally.

Haiti is a sensual country, not in a sexual sense. The smells, the colors, the taste of the food, and the sounds are vivid and distinct. The Haitian people, who have every right to feel depressed, angry, fearful, and sad, are happy, joyful and deeply spiritual. However, Robin reminded us that we will witness some things about Haiti that will be forever puzzling and we will need to live with and accept the contradictions that we will experience. I am so happy to be here again and am looking forward to working with this incredible team to make whatever difference we can make.

Bondye beni ou  / God bless you.