Usually I write more when I am on these trips, but almost right from the start this visit to Haiti has been different.

As far as the the city and the people go… I don’t find strangers any more or less hostile. Basically the same unpleasant bunch. Oftentimes I have heard aid workers refer to the Haitians as kind and generous people who want the opportunity to work hard. Sometimes I wonder if they only say this in order to convince themselves that it is true. I have only met three Haitians who meet that description. One of them is now dead. The other two are Jeanmary and his mother. Jeanmary will be the first to say most Haitians are lazy, liars, and thieves. But he also says that the Haitians who remain in the countryside are much different; that Port-au-Prince attracts many people who come seeking free housing, food, money from the NGO’s and from the government. He tells me that many people come to Port-au-Prince because they are already lazy, preferring to leech off of the NGOs than to continue working their own farms. However, once they are here, the realization kicks in that many of the rumors are pure fantasy (one rumor going around was that the government was giving 5,000 gourds to every Haitian in Port-au-Prince. In reality, they only gave money to some Haitians for the specific use of repairing their homes.). At this point, many of them become stuck in the city. Which is when, over time, this society turns them into liars and thieves in order to survive.

Tonight it has been raining very hard, and right this moment the power is out. I am sitting on the front steps of the house. Jeanmary is walking around worried about something, Janelle is scolding Jayme for tearing his clothes, and a few family friends are standing around. This is a typical night. The electricity has been much more consistent this trip; I am very thankful for that.

Tuesday we went to the funeral of a woman named Micheline Purrhys who died at the age of 44. It was an interesting experience. I am told that funerals usually last about an hour, but this one lasted much longer while the preacher spoke heatedly about death. Many in the audience became impatient and about 1/4th of the guests walked out before the preacher was finished speaking. Once the church part was over… the funeral procession made it’s way to the cemetery. The remaining guests gathered around as the preacher spoke one last prayer before the workers dragged the coffin into the crypt. The first try was a failure because the coffin had some fancy woodwork and wouldn’t fit into the small opening. Two workers grabbed hammers and smashed pieces off the bottom of the coffin until it could fit.

I am looking forward to the moment when I witness a whole group of these kind and generous island people that legends speak of. That being said… my experiences here in Port-au-Prince are much different than most “blancs”. I have to fully rely on the people around me in order to get information, travel from place to place, and keep safe. I basically have zero support beyond what Jeanmary can provide. The only times anyone has done anything helpful for me are when Jeanmary either pays bribes, or tells lies about who I am and what I am doing. These tactics make me uncomfortable at times but looking back… I just don’t see how most of our experiences would be possible. I do not have the connections to operate the way I would like to.

The next day we visited the morgue. I had a lot of anxiety about being there again. It turned out that I had very good reason to be anxious. The conditions are worse. Much much worse. But I’ll save that for another time.

There isn’t much else that I can say about certain parts of this trip. Which is one of the things that makes it different. I’ve witnessed and recorded some things that I do intend to write about in detail, but it would be best if I did so after coming home. I could also use the extra time to percolate the experiences.

On the bright side, I’ll be spending all of next week with an organization that I have been hoping to partner up with. I’ve respected their work from the beginning. It will be a wonderful experience… to see something good in Haiti… something positive. A wonderful opportunity to finally operate the right way! I am also cherishing the chance to help out more directly. Lately I have been wondering what good I am doing. It is a pointless thing to worry about because documentation is necessary, and long term documentation is very important. But, I will likely never see any good come of it. Definitely not anytime soon.

I cannot say much more about the organization or what I’ll be doing. I signed a pretty hefty non disclosure agreement but if you know me or have been paying attention for awhile, I’m sure it isn’t hard to figure out. I hope that I will be able to put together a photo essay of the experience that will become a part of Waiting For Haiti, but nothing has been hashed out yet.

This has definitely been the roughest trip. But I hope that in the end I’ll be able to piece together two positive photo essays to support the horrible one.

Jenny and my family have been wonderfully supportive. My sister has been having some health problems and my mom and dad were pretty stressed out at the beginning of the week. But Jenny and my dad have been taking my calls and listening to me talk through some experiences. My mother would too of course, but she really doesn’t need to hear some of this stuff. I miss Jenny terribly. I’m really not very good at being away from the person I am in love with. In the past, I was single, so this is a bit of a learning experience. Thankfully, mobile phones are cheap, and international minutes to call the US are inexpensive. I am able to call almost every night. She has been so patient with me.

Jeanmary and I took motorcycles up the coast today. Our drivers were about half crazy. They must have never been inside the morgue. It felt a little bit like paying Russian roulette, but the gun turned out to be empty; since we made it home. Our plan was to visit Titanyen. An area where some of the unclaimed dead in Haiti are being buried… and where many of the earthquake victims ended up. The motorcycle I was on had some trouble, and while talking to a mechanic the guys found out there was a mass grave closer by which we had already passed. The area is called St. Christophe. The locals says that it is the final resting place for about 100,000 earthquake victims. The area is quite beautiful. There is a flat square of gravel above the mass grave. On top is a memorial. Behind it are small green mountains over looking the ocean and landscape. There are small patches of black crosses here and there along the path up to the top of a larger hill. At the top of the hill are two big crosses. They are very different from one another. One brown wood and sturdy. The other made from a bamboo type wood with a reef hanging on it. It is the most peaceful place I have visited thus far.