dimanche 3 février 2013

Solar cooking in Carcasse




Above: demonstrating the use of solar cookers to students on the school roof

St. Mary’s team had brought six home-made aluminum foil/cardboard “cookits” to Carcasse, hoping they would catch on and more could be made on-site. As described in my first post, we tried them on the school roof a few times our first week in Carcasse. It was too cloudy for any results the first time, the second time we didn’t put enough water, but the third time, we quickly cooked some spaghetti, which we showed to the “Comite Fabric” (a parish council meeting). The room broke out in talk as soon as Batisse, the student who had helped me with the solar cooking, finished explaining that the spaghetti had been cooked by the sun. I left the solar cooker with him to try to use at his own home, to thank him for helping me with the demonstration. After the other team members left, Father Verdieu advised me to wait until after the Patron Saint Feast Day to train people in solar cooking, as the whole town was busy getting ready for the big event. I figured this would give me time to get to know people, and to learn how to cook the local foods myself before trying to teach anyone else.

The day before the start of Lent, Father Verdieu announced tongue-in-cheek, to everyone’s surprise, that he had decided that we would be using ONLY the solar cookers to cook food during lent, as this was supposed to be a time of fasting. The two seminarians did a double take and moaned and groaned that they would starve, and I also feebly protested that this wasn’t very realistic, as I wasn’t sure how well they worked, and we wouldn’t be able to have any cooked foods for breakfast (with no fridge to keep things fresh overnight). Nevertheless, I thought it would be a great way to kick-start the project.


Above: The Rectory kitchen

Of course, Father Verdieu hadn’t been entirely serious about this endeavor, as there were cooked foods for breakfast the next morning. I approached the cook about making some rice with the solar cooker that morning. She did not seem enchanted with the idea, but was willing to try it out. She first had to wash the breakfast dishes, and then go buy fish at the local market. Once we got down to preparing the food, it took much longer than it would take in the US with its pre-washed, pre-sifted packaged foods. By the time we shelled the peas, washed and picked out all the impurities in the rice, peeled and cubed the carrots, added the spices and other tasks, over an hour had passed. Then we had problems finding a sunny spot and setting it up properly, as trying to balance the pot on top of shot glasses caused food to spill into the bag. So we started late, after 11 am, when I would have liked to get the pots out there by 9:30 – 10 am. The sky was partly cloudy, so cooking would be slow. We moved the solar cookers to an area near the kitchen an hour later, as shadows in the parking lot were encroaching upon it. We ran into the whole glass balancing and spilling problem again, losing precious heat as we had to take the pot completely out of the bag to wash the bag. We had to move it again within an hour as shadows took over. Finally, after adding some water, when we checked the rice at 3 pm, it was cooked. The millet was partially cooked, but I knew it would not fully cook that day, with the sun too low in the horizon to heat it up sufficiently.


Above: The dining room/patio and common area

Meanwhile, the Father had been lounging around, pretend-moaning about how hungry he was, how much he was suffering, and asking how much longer it would be. All this was in good fun of course – the whole solar cooker issue eventually became one of our favorite topics, and we used to sit and laugh for hours arguing and joking about it. They would pretend I was a judge, calling me “Magistrat,” and the two seminarians would argue their case against solar cooking, while the priest would defend the cause. I would play the part of a corrupt judge very partial to solar cookers, upholding and lauding the priest’s always “brilliant” arguments, while denigrating anything the seminarians came up with, no matter how reasonable, and finding fault in their smallest actions. To be fair, their arguments were often invalid. For example, they once said that the solar-cooked rice they had eaten the previous day had given them stomach problems as it was not fully cooked. They were unaware that this rice, after having been partially cooked in the solar cooker, had then finished cooking on the charcoal stove - so their claims back-fired. I joked with them that either their symptoms were imaginary, induced by fear of solar-cooked food, or they were just plain lying so we would not have to fast due to solar cooking during this period of lent. This game would last for hours, although we would often progress from debating the advantages and disadvantages of solar cooking in our imaginary courtroom to different topics such as different mobile phone companies and services. In a small rural town with no electricity or running water, technologies such as solar cookers and phones quickly became the talk of the town.

This account of my first attempts at solar cooking showcases different attitudes towards solar cookers by various community members, as well as some common on-the-ground challenges. Needless to say, the first attempt at the rectory with Bem was not very encouraging. However, this is often the case, as learning how to use a new technology does not happen spontaneously. One cannot simply demonstrate the use of solar cookers to locals once and then expect them to figure out how to use it on their own. My experience introducing solar cookers in DR Congo and India as well as the volunteer work I have done analyzing solar cooker project evaluations have taught me that constant support and reinforcement are needed to solve on-the-ground problems as they come up, and to effect lifestyle changes. My solar cooker experiences in Haiti only strengthened this belief, as I ran into and helped to overcome difficulties I could not have envisioned or prepared for beforehand.

This next section is dedicated to solar cooker enthusiasts who want to know more about these difficulties in order to learn from my experiences. It is quite detailed, but I hope to convey the idea that cultural acceptance of solar cookers is a slow process which must be aided by people who are both immersed in the local culture and experts in solar cooking. I summarize some of the difficulties we encountered below.

The most obvious barrier was the weather. We started solar cooking as the rainy season was approaching, so the sky was often cloudy. Rather than taking an hour to cook white rice, it often took three hours, and I don’t think we ever got the millet to ever fully cook. In fact, we managed to cook rice in under two hours only once, when the sky was a clear blue all morning. This was the only time I saw the cook Bem get excited about the solar cookers. She was so impressed with the results that she wanted me to call the priest, on business in Port-au-Prince, right away to tell him that it had actually worked this time. Later in the evening she came into my room and stood there beaming at me for half an hour, I suspect because she finally realized solar cookers’ potential and was grateful that I had brought them over.



Above: kitchen with stoves

The weather was an issue not just practically but psychologically, as the forecast from one hour to the next was hard to predict. Solar cooking food requires advance planning, as all the ingredients must be prepared beforehand to be added to the pot together, and the cooking must be started earlier as it takes longer. Often, the cook would decline to start preparing food for solar cooking in the early morning judging from the cloudy sky at that moment. However, the sky would often clear up an hour later, but it was too late to solar cook as the ingredients were not ready. If I had not shown up almost every morning to discuss the weather and solar cooking, she probably would not have bothered dealing with the uncertainty of weather patterns just to be able to plan her day.

The weather would not have been such a big issue if we had had more durable solar cookers that could withstand a little rain in case of an unexpected shower. While a “cookit” is made of easily torn aluminum foil and cardboard that deforms in the rain, a HotPot’s anodized aluminum panels and glass bowl last over 15 years. Passing clouds have a much smaller effect on well-insulated box cookers such as the sun oven, and parabolic solar cookers can cook fast, generally before the weather changes. Only a solar cooking expert on the ground can gauge which type of solar cooker is most suitable for that climate and culture.

Changing one’s lifestyle and schedule to accommodate for solar cooking is easier said than done, and Bem, already over 50, did not seem too keen on learning new tricks to please me. She was usually up at the crack of dawn making breakfast for everyone, after which she did the dishes and cleaned up, a time-consuming task given limited water and only buckets for sinks. She then typically went to the market to buy fish and vegetables for lunch, and then quickly prepared lunch over the fire.
The only way to squeeze in solar cooking was to ask her to start preparing the ingredients early and put off doing the breakfast dishes until the pots had been set in the sun. If the solar cooking did not work for whatever reason, lunch would be late. The priest and seminarians were generally patient people, but quite often, husbands do not like to be kept waiting and women have little free time, cultural factors an organization promoting solar cookers would have to keep in mind when designing a project.

Even with Bem agreeing to change her schedule, there were limits to how quickly the ingredients could be put together. Without a fridge, you had to buy fish the day you ate it, and the fish market only opened so early (we did cook fish in the solar cooker once). I suppose we could have shelled the peas and sifted through the rice the day before, but this was an extra demand to make on top of all the others. Nobody there seemed to know that soaking beans beforehand would shorten the cooking time, but again, this would have required a schedule change. Solar cooking is definitely worth it, but it’s important to remember that, as with any lifestyle change, one needs motivation and patience. An organization with a constant presence on the ground would be able to provide this motivation, and understand and address cultural barriers such as changes in routine.


Above: The dish-washing area

This brings me to the fact that most people I met had a poor understanding of how solar cookers worked, even though they claimed to understand everything right from the start. I explained the concept of sunlight reflection from the panels, the transformation of light energy into heat energy with black metals, and the greenhouse effect of the plastic bags during my demonstrations. But I understand now that it takes a strong scientific background for this to sink in, and to proactively prevent and solve any potential solar cooker problems. One common mistake from students was to think the aluminum foil would be burning hot. It took me a while to figure out that the cook, Bem, believed that the sooner I put the reflective panels in the sun (without the pot), the faster the food would cook once I placed the pot of food on the panels, a bit like warming up an oven. If I had not been there to tell her this was not the case, she might have concluded that solar cookers did not work based on this erroneous idea that she could put the pots in at the last minute as long as the panels had been out “preheating” beforehand.

Another issue we ran into was getting the amount of water right. One of the first attempts at solar cooking resulted in the bottom layer of rice being cooked and the top layer being partially cooked. Bem concluded, as most people would, that the solar cooker was not capable of cooking foods thoroughly, but this is another example of solar cooker science miscomprehension. I figured this was probably due to a lack of water (unlike cooking over flames, food never burns in solar cookers, though it may not cook fully if lacking in water). In accordance with most solar cooking manual instructions, I had first told Bem to use slightly less water than she normally would, as less water vapor escapes in slower solar cooking. In the end, the cooking worked when I told her to put MORE water than she normally uses, contradicting my initial instructions. I suspect this confusion has to do with the fact it’s harder to control heat levels on wood and charcoal stoves as compared to fully adjustable gas stoves, so Bem would not really know the total amount of water she used, as she added it gradually as needed. Either way, she would have given up on solar cookers if I had not been there with her each time to diagnose the problem and insist we try again.

When rice took three or more hours to cook, I could sympathize with her lack of enthusiasm, but I believed even partially cooking food in the solar cooker would mean less charcoal used. I found out later it was not so simple. As I understand it, they often let the charcoal keep on burning even after they’re done cooking, simply because there’s no easy way to stop it from burning. You could pour water on it, but then you would have to leave the charcoal in the sun for days to dry before it can burn again. So logically, you might as well use the charcoal to thoroughly cook a dish rather than using the solar cooker to first partially cook it and then let the charcoal burn for nothing. This is one possibly demotivating factor that deserves more study, as solar cooking evaluations often focus on reductions in fuel usage.


Above: cat sleeping on charcoal bag in kitchen

The fact that I was living with Bem and helping her with every solar meal meant that she and I gradually learned what worked and what didn’t, guided by my solar cooking expertise. This could not be said for one of my students who had been trying to use the solar cooker on his own. When I met him after two weeks of his trials, he told me the cooker did not work well. I asked him if the aluminum was still shiny and the bag still transparent. He said no, and I explained the physics behind why it was important for him to keep them clean. I asked him how the bag was tied. He said he had a twisty-tie to close it, but it was a bit loose. I explained the heat would escape this way and not cook the food. I showed him how to clean his solar cooker and close the bag tightly with an elastic. Another problem was that he and others were checking the food too often, losing heat every time they opened the bag. Given the usual cloudiness, I told them to wait two hours before checking it at all. He looked surprised at all these revelations, and it was clear that he hadn’t understood the physics behind them. These concepts came so easily to me that I hadn’t bothered to insist on points which they claimed to already understand perfectly.

Even if his scientific understanding had been perfect, there were other obstacles to successful solar cooking. Most people did not have any glass items to put under the pot for more efficient cooking, raising the bottom to allow light to the bottom in addition to the sides. Other things you take for granted in the US were impossible to find here. Elastics or even suitable hair ties to close the bags, as well as clothespins to hold up the flap, could not be found anywhere, even at the large weekly market 45 minutes away . These may seem like extraneous details, but the devil is in the details. It is quite possible that people in the past have given up on solar cooking because no one paid attention to the facts that the bags weren’t closed tightly enough, letting the heat escape, or that the flap wasn’t raised to the right height due to lack of clothespins, deflecting sunlight away.

During my last week, I formed a solar cooker committee, recruiting members from the “comite fabric” (parish council), and got three volunteers to try out the solar cookers in their homes. It is likely these three students were partly doing this as a favor to me as I had gotten to know them better than most other villagers. Another motivation might have been that they thought they would get free food out of this, or a free solar cooker, as I soon found out. This issue of selecting solar cooker recipients can be problematic for large projects. If solar cookers are handed out for free, people are likely to want one, even if they are not likely to use them. Knowing the culture and individuals in the community can make a big difference in choosing suitable homes for the solar cookers.

At our first meeting, I showed them how the "cookits" worked and had them watch a short Creole news clip on deforestation in Haiti which mentioned solar cookers. I asked them to record the dishes that they would solar cook, timing and other factors. I then asked them about what foods they typically ate every day to see which ones would be good for solar cooking. After exchanging some bashful smiles, they said they didn’t have any food to eat. I knew their diet may not have been the most nourishing, but whatever they did eat, they could solar cook. They finally admitted that they did eat basically the same things I ate: coffee and bread in the morning, rice, yam, breadfruit and fish at lunch and bouillie (a flour, banana, and oat porridge) in the evening. I had prepared some chopped-up cabbage in water to put in the solar cooker. I demonstrated how to put the pot in the bag with rocks underneath it, how to position the solar cooker, including the flap, and how to prepare food to have it cook faster (chop it into smaller pieces, etc…). I basically told them that the most important thing was to experiment and keep on trying, and then gave them each a complete kit including a black pot.

I organized a second reunion a few days later. Only two came, one half an hour late, the other over an hour late, which is pretty typical here, given that no one has the means to tell time. The lack of structure and organization in the community tended to slow down projects. One of them said she had tried cooking rice but it had not worked well. We figured out that she was checking it too often (probably about every half-hour). The other young woman told me she had managed to cook some fish sauce in there. When asked to comment, they said it was good and nice, but weren’t very forthcoming otherwise. This was to be expected, considering that I was still new to their community and they might not have felt comfortable opening up to me. Still, I knew that they would probably eventually run into the same problems that Bem and Batisse had run into. I hoped that they could be more honest with Bem, who had learned enough from our solar cooking experiences together to help them along the way.

I realize this blog entry focuses on the difficulties in widespread adoption of solar cooking. This is not meant to discourage people from using solar cookers or promoting the cause. On the contrary, addressing these difficulties head-on is the only way to overcome them and achieve solar cooker adoption. Ignoring problematic details and assuming locals will figure things out on their own without any support or technical assistance only leads to failed projects, which more than anything else hurts the cause of solar cooking promotion in developing countries.

Unfortunately I had to leave a few days after this and abandon the solar cooker project. I feel that with more time, and perhaps some funding and help from other solar cooker experts, I could have overcome all these obstacles to widespread solar cooking adoption. I can only hope that they kept on experimenting long enough to realize that it’s worth the time and effort to see that solar cookers do work if used properly, and make more solar cookers for other people with the materials and instructions I left them.

Food and cooking


Left: Dining room at the rectory, set for the team's last meal.

Many people have asked me about Haiti’s food and cuisine – what a typical meal would consist of, what fruits and vegetables were commonly available, their cooking methods, etc…I cannot speak for all of Haiti, but I can tell you about my experiences in Carcasse.
Breakfast typically consisted of spaghetti with ketchup and white bread, or a mixture of boiled breadfruit, yam and plantains. Sometimes fruits would also be served, usually bananas, but also “caimites” (star apple), “abricot” (not the apricot found in the US), and papaya during my six weeks there. Pictures and descriptions of these fruits can be found on: http://www.tntisland.com/fruits.html


Above: a typical lunch meal of rice with beans and locally-caught fish

For lunch, enormous platters of white rice or “pitimil” (millet) with a few beans or bean sauce, or sometimes cubed carrots, were served with fish with sauce, or occasionally fried chicken.
Dinner was usually lighter, consisting of lunch leftovers, or “bouillie” – a kind of sweet porridge made with flour or sweet potatoes, condensed milk, and “épices-thé” containing cinnamon and other spices (from what I could smell).

For beverages, we usually drank water, although soft drinks and beers were served when guests stayed over. Occasionally, there was a fruit juice for one day – it was pressed from the fruit in the morning and rotted within a day. This was the case with the “corossol” (sour sop) fruits from the tree on the property. Once ripe, the fruit had to be picked and juiced, which was not easy, with the cook working on it the whole morning. I didn’t get the chance to see the details of how it was being made in person, but online instructions tell you to peel it with your fingers, then remove the fibrous core and the seeds, cube it, and then blend it (or use your mortar and pestle in Haiti). Juice was also made from oranges bought from the market, which were far too acidic to eat directly (I tried – it wasn’t pleasant), and a type of sour cherry. I also had some coconut water once from coconuts picked off a nearby tree.





Above: cocoa pod from the tree, cocoa beans drying in the sun

Hot chocolate could also be made straight from cocoa from nearby trees. Since I was the only one who preferred to drink hot chocolate rather than coffee in the morning, they taught me how to make it. You start off by finely grating a ball of hard cocoa (the way cocoa is sold). You then add the powder to boiling water, and stir the boiling mixture frequently for 30 minutes. Condensed milk and spices were mixed in near the end. I don’t remember which spices were added unfortunately…they called the mix “epices-the”, and it included cinnamon, salt and sugar. After waiting for it to cool down, you ended up with a thick and grainy chocolaty concoction, saltier and spicier than a typical US hot chocolate. I say grainy because the cocoa shavings don’t totally disappear. The longer you boil it, the smoother it will be, but you can’t spend all day at it. Given how arduous this process was compared to the way I made hot chocolate in the US (milk+powder+microwave in less than 2 minutes), I decided I could live without hot chocolate. The cook did make me some a couple times as a special treat as she knew I was a big fan of it.



Above: Jack standing next to coffee tree/bush
Coffee was also served, I imagine the same fair-trade coffee that is sold at St. Mary’s.

This is what we ate on a daily basis, but there were extra dishes for special guests, such as a Haitian version of cole slaw, or goat meat, fresh from the backyard goats that had been chomping on the compost/trash pile a few hours earlier.


Above: goat in the compost/trash heap

Goat meat was considered to be quite a treat, judging from the fact that the Father reserved a goat just for the choir members to thank them for singing at the “Fete Patronale.” I had been expecting the Father’s staff to prepare the goat meat and invite the choir members over for dinner, as is the custom in the US, but things are a little different here. Instead, he gave them the whole live goat and told them to go have fun butchering it and cooking it at the school in time for dinner. It’s an interesting way of throwing a party. I can just imagine trying that out in the US – invite a dozen people to my house for a party (mostly teenagers), give them a live goat and tell them to figure out the rest. Obviously that wouldn’t work so well in our culture, but the choir members apparently had fun doing just that, and the party went on until late at night. Unfortunately I couldn’t attend it as I was too busy going over exams for all the subjects for the next day.


Although it took me a while to get used to this diet, overall the food was very good. I have a lot of admiration for, and am deeply grateful to our cook “Bem,” who was typically busy cooking and cleaning from dawn until after we ate dinner at 10 pm or later.

My only problem with the food was the lack of vegetables. Apart from the occasional tiny cubes of carrots adorning the rice, there were virtually none. Strange as this may seem, this may have been the hardest part about living in Carcasse for me. This was due to the fact that before moving to Carcasse, I was on a sugar-free, starch-free diet loaded with green vegetables, and transitioning to a diet of mostly starches (white rice, boiled plantains, etc..) was hard on my system. I also felt that many of my friends’ health problems stemmed from nutritional deficiencies. I will save the nutrition and health talk for another time, but let’s just say they ended up teasing me in good fun about how I would extol on the virtues of vegetables.

At first, I was under the impression that they didn’t buy vegetables because they were too expensive, so I wanted to see whether bean sprouts were a practical alternative. In general, bean sprouts have far more vitamins than unsprouted beans - sometimes hundreds of times more. They’re practically like vitamin pills, but much cheaper and more easily available. They didn’t know that all you needed to sprout beans was a transparent container and clean water, and told me that the beans would just rot. Some of them did sprout, and some of the people were kind enough to try them out, but I could see they weren’t crazy about the idea. The cook and one of her friends, however, refused to try any, vigorously shaking their heads no, and gasped in disbelief when I popped one into my mouth, as if I had just swallowed a live slug. I knew they didn’t trust sprouts, as they always made sure to tweak off the bean sprout tail when preparing the rice and beans – the most nutritious part of the meal. Of course, I just followed their example when helping them with the bean shelling as I didn’t want to start a pointless debate.


Above: weekly market

During my last couple weeks there, I went to the market with the express purpose of buying some vegetables. I bought two heads of cabbage, some carrots, and some kind of green leafy plant they have, which was basically the extent of vegetables there. A couple days later, the Father came back from his trip to Jeremy, and he had loaded eight heads of cabbage onto his truck just for me. Now the cabbages there are literally the size of a human head. They’re two or three times bigger than the cabbages found at home. So I had ten huge cabbage heads to eat as fast as I could before they rotted. (There was a fridge, but it was rarely used as it took up too much power). I knew I wouldn’t get much help eating them from the others, as they preferred white rice. Although one of the seminarians did agree with me that vegetables were good for your health, the other insisted that eating massive amounts of white rice was the way to go, and that he was in great health. Since the cook wasn’t fond of cooking them, I decided to solar cook them, which usually took about an hour. This leads me to my next topic: solar cooking.