Hot in Haiti

We haven’t posted in a while because the news from Haiti has not changed. Denise and I did not return to Haiti this fall because it has become impossible to travel with any degree of safety. There does not seem to be any light at the end of this terribly dark tunnel… but this too shall pass. Once it does, we will return.

We are thankful to be in constant contact with friends and coworkers that live there. In these dark times, they know they are not alone. We are able to transfer money to meet essential needs.

We persevere, we are keeping the faith, and praying.

Peace be with each of you… and Haiti, Bob, and Denise

One of our friends, Johnathon Harold Lamare recently described his experience….

We are entering what feels like at least week 6, maybe more, of the daily protests in Haiti, demanding the president resign over corruption and the inability to govern effectively.

When Haiti is in this state of unrest, we say that it is "hot" – not just in the sense we\’re used to temperature-wise.

I hate Haiti when it\’s hot.

When Haiti is hot, traveling by road is not safe. You find yourself questioning every group of young men you see along the side of the road. Are they going to stop you? Rob you? Steal your vehicle? Or are they just playing a game of dominos or cards? Or talking about local politics, lamenting the same way as you the difficulties the country and her people face?

When Haiti is hot, you figure out how to hide money all over your person, your vehicle, your home. You need to travel with enough cash to pay off those who man the roadblocks along the way, but not so much that you might be robbed or even killed for it.

When Haiti is hot, you drive with a ridiculous amount of space between you and the vehicle in front of you. Even when the people in the vehicle behind you yell and honk and urge you to move forward, you know that you need to leave that space there in the event you have to turn around abruptly to get away from a crowd of angry protesters who might be throwing rocks, bottles, or worse at anyone attempting to function as if things were usual.

When Haiti is hot, traffic jams become scary. Billowing smoke prompts one to ask, is this garbage burning? Or is this a violent roadblock or barricade?

When Haiti is hot, you sleep in something that you can run outside in at any given time. You keep a backpack with some essential items, cash, water, etc. by your bed.

When Haiti is hot, you wear sandals or shoes that you can run in – just in case you have to run.

When Haiti is hot, the gunshots you hear at night are less easily ignored. If they seem closer, they may be. If there are more than usual, you wonder at what point you should get on the floor, away from windows.

When Haiti is hot, you buy more food than you need yet you eat less than you want.

When Haiti is hot, you keep a motorcycle helmet in your vehicle in case you have to get out of your car and away from an area quickly. The helmet is good simply because you could be on a moto. It also protects you from rocks and other projectiles.

When Haiti is hot, you second guess every decision. Options only complicate the decision-making process. You assume the worst could happen at any time, and then the guilt you feel from making that assumption consumes you.

When Haiti is hot, you keep your phone charged at all times with plenty of airtime.

When Haiti is hot, you feel as paralyzed as everyone else, even though you know as a foreigner, you could choose to escape the heat simply by visiting a website and purchasing a ticket out.

When Haiti is hot, you travel more by moto, wearing long sleeves and long pants with close-toed shoes, gloves, and a helmet. The more you can hide the fact that you are a foreigner, while on a moto, the better.

When Haiti is hot, 2 million school-aged children sit at home, thirsty for knowledge, victims caught up in something they likely know nothing about, and have nothing to do with.

When Haiti is hot, gas is scarce, and becomes more and more expensive daily.

When Haiti is hot, food prices can as much as quadruple in price.

When Haiti is hot, the air fills with black smoke of burning tires, tear gas, and more. You sneeze and cough more; you are more congested. Your throat hurts.

When Haiti is hot, hospitals close and people die.

When Haiti is hot, you question the utility of being here at all. Then you feel guilty about that. And sad.

It seems like when Haiti is hot, nobody wins. How long can this last?

Most of us have not experienced Haiti being the way it is currently since 2004. Many of my Haitian friends are saying it feels the same now as it did then.

What will become of all of this?

Please continue to think of those who are most affected by this heat – the innocent school children, the elderly, the sick. The working class whose struggle to make it on a day to day basis is only exacerbated by current events.