Sophie's stories

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.

mardi 10 avril 2012

March 24th blog

The teachers’ meeting took place on Wednesday. The father presided and said he wanted to discuss two important points: monthly exams and punishments.
He started off by saying how valuable the teachers were to him, to the students and to the whole community of Carcasse. He said that that after all, living in Carcasse and teaching for very little money (around $100 monthly) is not easy, and that he commended them for their dedication and hard work.
In my previous discussions with the Father, he explained to me that every decision regarding the school and teachers required much deliberation and forethought on its possible consequences, as new rules might upset some teachers enough for them to leave, or end up in having to fire some for breaking the rules. With teachers for St. Joseph’s being so hard to find, that’s the last thing he would want, and I could see why at the meeting he took the time to make his teachers feel appreciated.

He then continued by explaining the difference between infringing upon a person’s liberties and making sure they fulfill contractual duties. The fact that he should have to expound on this is still a bit strange to me, but by now, not unexpected. I get the feeling that their idea of liberty here is different from the one I grew up with and experienced in the US – that many things which I consider a basic responsibility are to them objectionable as they are a restriction of a person’s liberty. For example, two teachers’ separate reactions at the idea of giving extra homework or supervising Saturday morning shifts as forms of punishments for the students were: “But that would be punishing the teachers!” Or consider the fact that they talked about the “slavery” of the different educational systems from different developed countries that the Haitian Government has been imposing on the Haitian people throughout the years. The Father later explained that part of the reason the Haitian educational system is broken is due to the fact that each new government so far has tried to adopt the educational system of a different country - France’s, Canada’s, etc…This created constant disruption, not to mention that these developing countries’ systems were inappropriate for the Haitian culture. Still, the use of the term “slavery” seemed a bit far-fetched to me, especially for what seems to me to be a sharing of knowledge and practices. Small things like this make me think that although Haiti gained its independence over 200 years ago, the psychological damage inflicted by slavery still manifests itself in its present-day culture. Perhaps the backlash against oppression has resulted in an overemphasis on an individual’s liberty rather than his or her social responsibilities, to the detriment of society as a whole. Of course, this is a not a fact or definitive judgment - I am only laying down my impressions and speculations of the moment based on a few people in a small town in Haiti. Rather than being an anthropological study on Haiti’s culture, much of what I write is a reflection on me – the reactions of an American girl who’s lived around the world, faced with a new environment. This is not a blog for those who want to get a purely objective look at Haiti’s culture. Apologies - but it’s inevitable.

But back to the meeting. Father Verdieu reminded the teachers that giving monthly exams was not a question of liberty - it had been agreed upon since the beginning, and was, in his words, sine qua non. It was essential for monitoring the students’ progress, and getting them to study regularly rather than leave everything to the last minute for the trimester exam.

He then broached the topic of punishments, saying he would like teachers to give out homework as punishments, and if the teachers were on board, have the students come in on Saturday mornings if they refused to do that homework. If the students refused to show up on Saturday mornings, and showed no apparent will to go to school or do any work, then they would be expelled. He finally pointed out that the use of corporal punishments would not be allowed. This seemed to wake the teachers up. One of the teachers said that this would never work, as he had worked in schools in Guadeloupe where these non-corporal techniques were used and the students were unruly and disobedient.
Father Verdieu said that in any case, corporal punishments were not severe and rare at the school. I contradicted him, telling him what the principal had told me my first week here when I asked about punishments (that students were punished by standing against the wall with their hands up and the teachers hit them with a stick), and that I saw him doing it myself, and heard the girl screaming. The principal looked at me like I was crazy and denied this, and everyone laughed. At this point, I was really sick of their attitude and lies, so I told them this was a serious matter, and that many of St. Mary’s parishioners would probably not want to make donations to pay teachers if they knew about the use of corporal punishments at the school – in other words, the teachers would lose their jobs. I also pointed out it was against Haitian law to use corporal punishments in schools, and that if an inspector should make a surprise visit, they or the Father could get in serious trouble. They made the argument that the Haitian Government is not fulfilling its promise in providing free universal education, so how can its laws carry weight? I said the two issues were separate, and this fact couldn’t be used as an excuse.
The Father said he would be talking to the students individually to see if the new rules were followed, and then agreed with me that anonymous surveys would be better because the students might not want to speak up for fear that whatever they say should come back to them.

Father Verdieu is aware of what is going on, but as I mentioned before, he can either tolerate the occasional corporal punishment, or deprive his students of an education. Obviously, I doubt this intervention will change things overnight, but I think it’s useful to at least lay down the rules.

It may seem to some that I’m imposing my own culture on the Haitian culture. That is quite possible, but I do have the Haitian law, the Catholic Church, and the Father on my side, who is the first responsible of the Catholic school here. Obviously that doesn’t mean I’m right – but let me explain my viewpoint, considering that I’ve heard both sides of the story, which I will try to relate here.

The arguments I’ve heard from those against corporal punishment include psychological studies that show that the punished child is far more likely to use violence in the future, not just for corporal punishments but towards their family members, including spouses. As one person put it, using corporal punishments is like teaching children to use violence to get what they want. Some may grow up and be able to distinguish between using corporal punishment in a controlled way at appropriate times, while others may not make this distinction, going straight from corporal punishments to domestic violence.
I personally hadn’t given much thought to corporal punishment until I was confronted with it. My gut reaction was to be filled with anger each time I saw children or teenagers being whipped. Perhaps this is a result of the culture I grew up in, but it certainly doesn’t feel that way. It feels like the proper natural reaction one would feel when seeing a bully beat up a defenseless child, just because he can. The fact that beating seems to be a first resort rather than a last resort to maintain order in the classroom makes me all the angrier because it seems like an easy cop-out. It’s easier for the teacher to whack a student a few times than grade extra homework given out as punishment or supervise students in detention - both of which would address the root cause of the problem, which is lack of studying.
It also seems to me like beating a child is an insult to his or her intelligence – it’s like saying to a child “you’re too stupid to understand reason, so I’ll just have to use the Pavlovian method instead.” (Pavlov is all about action-reaction, not leaving much room for complex thought or emotions, as I recall). A child who incorporates this belief won’t grow up with the confidence to think for himself about what is right and wrong – as I see it, one of the keys to attaining maturity and wisdom, as well as a sense of responsibility and compassion for others. The child can also grow to believe that he is an intrinsically bad person who deserves to be beaten, which can cause a host of psychological problems. I’ve also heard from those who have been beat that they would lie to their parents about their misdeeds to avoid corporal punishments. It’s easy to see why – why feel bad about lying to someone who has no interest in learning the real reasons behind one’s behavior? And thus starts the circle of vice…Of course, these are simplistic extrapolations concerning a very complex subject. I’d be interested to hear what other people think about the topic.

Those for the use of corporal punishment have told me the following things: They were beat hard as children and they’re better people for it. The first person who told me this, and who champions the cause of using it on students, incidentally, is one the most undisciplined people I’ve ever met – and although he is gregarious and fun-loving, I’ve also caught him being dishonest. Needless to say, his arguments don’t hold much weight for me.
The other person who’s told me they were beat as a child has done a better job of explaining the cultural reasons behind it. He said that although his mother beat him, he never uses corporal punishments on his own children because the different environments in which he and his kids were raised are worlds apart. This is what I came to understand from him. Proverbially speaking, there are two ways to motivate: the carrot and the stick. He made me see that in richer settings (including his family), one can hold a carrot up as a potential prize (eg: you’ll get ice cream if you do your homework!) or threaten to take an existing carrot away (no more TV for you if you don’t clean up your room!), to the point where the stick isn’t needed. In poorer settings, however, there is no carrot – only the stick remains. What can a mother do to get her child to walk 2 hours to go to school each way? She can’t promise something special – they’re already barely surviving as it is. She can’t threaten to take away a luxury they don’t have to begin with. If the child stays behind to chat with his friends and comes home late, worrying the mother silly, what can she do? Although ideally parents could just reason with their children, more often than not kids and teenagers don’t grasp realities of everyday life very well, much less their parents’ dreams of having them excel in a city university they can’t even imagine, as they’ve never left their small village. I asked this man whether he didn’t resent his mother for beating him. He said not at all, that he loved her dearly and they were very close, adding that she was poor, illiterate and uneducated when she used to beat him. Even so, I wonder if he didn’t excel despite the beatings, rather than thanks to them, as he was wise enough to look at his mother objectively and forgive her shortcomings as she was trying her best. I suppose what’s important in these different methods is whether the child feels loved or not – which can happen if the child perceives that the parent beats him or her for his or her best interests, rather than as a cop-out or a release of misdirected anger.
Talking with this man reminded me there is more than meets the eye in corporal punishments, and that one shouldn’t judge these people without walking a mile in their shoes. Some people say that the problems of corporal punishments at school and domestic violence will eventually take care of themselves as economic conditions and education levels improve. While the second man’s story fits in with this theory, the first man’s story does not, as he is from a wealthy family and still champions the cause of corporal punishments.
While I agree these factors help, I also believe the cause needs to be addressed directly, through education in non-violence and through role models who are willing to go against cultural norms to do what is right. I also think we can’t wait for the country to develop to start - if not now, then when? It will probably be another 50 years at least before Haiti lifts itself out of poverty. As a foreigner, my input is limited – after all, who am I to tell these people what to do? But people like Father Verdieu, who is influential and respected in his community, can make a world of difference.

March 18th blog

Three weeks have passed since I took notes for my last blog entry, so I won’t try to pretend I remember what happened day by day. I will write more by topic instead.

The topic on my mind today is Haiti’s social culture, or what I’ve seen of it. I’m afraid this won’t be a very positive post – I’m past the “honeymoon phase,” and perhaps this post will be more like me venting my frustrations than anything else. Part of my aggravation comes from talking with a few people recently about American aid. They all ask: “Where did the money go? We’re no better off than we were.” I say that first of all, a lot of money did make it to Haiti, and it was spent on very important things. Clearing away rubble takes money. Building roads takes money. Providing tents, water, food, toilets and basic amenities to millions of refugees takes money. Building the infrastructure for MINUSTAH and other aid organizations takes money. International aid staff need to be paid, and providing a secure environment for them raises expenses.
I’m not saying the money poured into the country has always been used in the best ways, or that special interests don’t have their say with Congress about which NGOs receive funds and how they are used. According to a documentary on aid in Haiti I saw on PBS a few months ago, 93% of USAID money ended up going right back to Americans, through American NGOs and the like. Don’t quote me on that figure, I don’t know its sources. I will save the discussion on international aid for another post and get back to Haiti’s social culture. There is a lot I’ve seen that is wrong with some parts of Haiti’s social culture (or at least Carcasse’s) that I believe impedes development in the long run. They say world peace begins at home. If that’s true, I can think of a lot of reasons Haiti hasn’t achieved its full potential which have nothing to do with lack or misuse of international aid.

For example, I found out that violence towards children was commonly accepted soon after I arrived in Carcasse. Just the other day I was at the rectory and heard a child sobbing and screaming outside. I stepped out of the gate to see a 10-or-so year old boy walking down the road, weighed down by large bottles of water in each hand. A man (I assume his father) was walking behind him with a stick, whacking the boy in the back with it occasionally, as someone would do with a mule. Other than the stick, the father wasn’t carrying anything. He didn’t seem to mind that the child was obviously very tired and sobbing with pain.
Another time, I was at the school teaching an English class with the principal sitting in. A woman started beating her 5-or-so year old child with a stick right outside my classroom, and of course it was impossible to continue my lesson as all the students and the principal were captivated by this scene. After a while the principal non-chalantly said to the mother “That’s enough, ma’am.” She went on for a few minutes and finally stopped, dragging the little boy home. The fact that I was fuming seemed to be amusing to the principal, and the children laughed when he made a joke in Creole about how angry I was.
As if toddlers weren’t young enough, I was walking back from the school a few days ago and saw a mother hitting and yelling at her 1-year old with a banana leaf (or some similar leaf) bigger than the baby itself in the middle of the street, as the neighbors lazily went around their business. The child was crawling around crying out occasionally, and looking somewhat bewildered (to my eyes). I had to wonder what the mother thought she was accomplishing, what lesson she was trying to impart, by hitting a baby who was probably barely aware of her surroundings.
It seems these violent ways have trickled down to the children themselves. As I walked past a bunch of kids playing marbles the other day, I couldn’t help notice that as one child got angry at another for taking his marbles, he picked up a stone to throw at him. I didn’t see the actual throwing, as we quickly walked out of sight. Although I haven’t seen this in person, I’ve also heard that domestic violence occurs.
Someone told me recently that a man had been beaten to a pulp by the police in a neighboring town – thankfully Father Verdieu intervened and drove the man to the nearby hospital.
It’s hard to gauge how big a problem violence and corporal punishments are in this town – occasionally I’ll hear one of the neighboring children screaming, or a dog yelping in pain repeatedly, but I can’t be sure of the reasons behind these events.

Violence isn’t just reserved for humans. It really bothers me how people here throw stones at dogs just to get them out of the way, as if it were some kind of game. It wouldn’t surprise me if dogs’ ribs, already protruding from near-starvation, weren’t broken occasionally by those stones. As I’m one of the few who treats the dogs kindly, they immediately latch on to me, always sitting by my feet, starved not just for food but also for affection. Most people of Carcasse are scared of dogs, and are surprised when they see me petting the Doberman. Some may think I’m being too sentimental, but it just seems so basic to me that if you treat a person or an animal with kindness, it will respond with kindness.

Even for non-cuddly animals, why hurt or kill when there is no need? Every time some people in this household see a frog, they catch it and kill it, smashing it on the ground and throwing stones at it. Why this gratuitous violence? Is it part of their culture, as some claim it is, or is it a symptom of extreme poverty and misery?

From what I’ve written so far it may seem like violence permeates the town. Not at all - It’s just that witnessing these events, even if rarely, ruins my day and my mood, and I’m unable to write about the fun and interesting aspects of Carcasse. Finally I decided to write about what was on my mind.

Although at first Carcasse seemed like a quaint little town where everyone greets you with a welcoming smile, I’ve figured out since that many unpleasant things lurk beneath the surface. I’m not shocked that this would happen in a very poor remote village, but I am disgusted nonetheless and depressed at my inability to intervene. My reasons for not physically intervening are first of all, for my own security, at the time of the beating and later on, and second of all, because it wouldn’t make a difference in the long run. The parent would probably give the child a second beating to make up for the first botched one.

I was able to change things for the better in one situation, however. The first time I witnessed one of these physical punishments was at choir practice. The choir director is one of the seminarians here, and is one of the most positive people I’ve met. He’s always up for a good laugh and takes the time to chat with every person he meets. He kisses the babies, hugs the grandmothers, and proudly presents just about everyone we meet as his dear friend. Coming from a wealthy family, I’ve seen him give generously to people in need. He’s also very talented in music, a fact that all the Americans noticed as he played his guitar (self-taught) and improvised different voices for his men’s choir at the beach. On top of his teaching duties, he was given the responsibility of preparing the music for the “Fete Patronale” (Patron Saint’s feast day) on March 19th, including directing the choir. I had heard previously that his teaching methods were too harsh as he used corporal punishments, but I hadn’t really understood what was meant by that. This man was so popular, who wouldn’t want him as a teacher? So it was a surprise to me when, ten minutes into the first choir practice, he took off his belt and whipped a girl’s hand with it just for singing off-key. The girl had complied with his orders to show him her palms without a flinch, a slight smile on her face, and acted as if it was no big deal – a show of bravery, to be sure, as I’m sure that belt must have painfully stung her skin. I was shocked and angry, but decided not to say anything just yet. I told myself that just 50 years ago this was still common in the US – and my parents’ generation turned out fine, so who was I to judge? But ten minutes later, the same thing happened. Except this time, the girl refused – incidentally it was a girl he had introduced me to earlier in the day as a very dear friend who had come to him for help, as she had been temporarily kicked out of school for failing to pay school fees for many months. As they argued over it, I decided that enough was enough. Even if I couldn’t do anything about the punishments, I certainly didn’t need to be a part of this choir. Back in the US, going to the CUA Town and Gown choir was the most relaxing and enjoyable part of my week. It was a time to appreciate the beauty of voices in harmony, both musically and socially. Attending choir here, however, would be more like the opposite – watching kids getting whipped every 10 minutes (for something they can’t even control!) is not my idea of fun. I stood up and calmly announced that I was leaving, and that I didn’t have to put up with the way things were run here. The choir director immediately stopped haranguing the girl and started to explain to me that this hand-whipping was necessary to get them to sing well, and it was a part of Haitian culture that maybe I didn’t understand very well. I told him he could do what he wanted, but I certainly didn’t want to be a part of it. As I made to walk out, he asked if I would stay if he stopped whipping their hands. After making him promise never again to use any form of physical punishment, I agreed to stay. As the practice continued, I could see he was itching to get his belt out every time someone made a mistake, and it was very frustrating for him not to be able to take out his anger on the choir members. He pleaded with me a few times to let him punish them, saying that they needed discipline and would never learn this way. Obviously I said no. He never punished them while I was there, although he did threaten to beat them in creole occasionally, when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. And thus was I roped into the choir, not wanting to leave for fear he would start beating them again. It was an enjoyable experience overall, as this seminarian, despite his desire to use corporal punishments, always knew how to make us laugh. It just took up far too much of my time, 2 or 3 hours every night that I could have spent writing the blog, as we were rushed to learn at least 18 songs (by heart, no one reads music) for the mass of St. Joseph’s feast day, which took place today. In the end, he and the other choir members were very grateful to me for leading the altos and sharing my experiences from former choirs I had belonged to. They even wanted me to lead the choir during the “Fete Patronale” mass, as the seminarian would be busy at the altar, but I refused for various reasons.
Unfortunately, I found out that he resorted to whipping the choir members again during my stay in Port-au-Prince, just a few days before the mass. Although he denied it, it just goes to show how hard it is to change one’s violent habits. Ironically, the choir did improve while I was gone. I would say this is firstly due to pressure from the upcoming performance, and secondly due to the fact that the day before I left I insisted that all the altos stay together on one side, so that we could hear each other rather than being spread across the back, 7 altos against 15 or so sopranos. He and others probably thank the belt for this sudden improvement (a guess made from snippets of conversation I’ve overheard).
Anyhow – these are a few examples of violence that I’ve seen. There are many wonderful things about Carcasse, and as I said, even the people who use violent forms of punishments can be good people otherwise. As the choir director explains: “I was beaten as a child and it did me a lot of good. It taught me discipline and it’s made me the man I am today” (not verbatim, but close). He may have the best intentions and honestly believe that he is helping children by whipping their hands with a belt, but I for one am not convinced any form of physical punishment is necessary or helpful.

Unfortunately, I’m afraid some teachers use physical punishments as well. When I asked the principal what they did to punish the students here, he told me that they stand against the wall, and get whacked with a stick. He said this was a necessary step, because if the students should fail their exams due to lack of discipline (by stick), the parents would beat them up even more for wasting their money. So in his mind, he is using violence to prevent even greater violence.

I’ve had a long talk with Father Verdieu about all this, and he’s told me that of course he does not like such things, but that he can’t be there to supervise every teacher for every lesson. He’s also told them that they must give out homework regularly and exams at least once a month, but from what I’ve seen, the French writing teacher and I are the only ones who give out homework, and they only give out semester exams.
As I can see, Father Verdieu does his best, but he is only one man with far too many responsibilities in trying to run an entire town. He works with the school inspector, who passes by occasionally, and he’s had meetings with the students, together and individually, to ask about the quality of the teaching and their methods.
He is aware that some teachers may not be the best – because they give out physical punishments or for other reasons - but firing them would leave the children with no education, as it is extremely hard to find anyone willing to come teach in a small remote town like Carcasse. Most teachers are not from Carcasse, and some even commute from a larger town for each class. He’s told me that he’s been looking for other teachers for quite some time. I can believe this, as St. Mary’s has told me that he had been asking them for an English teacher for two years. Not only an English teacher – but someone who could help him run the school properly.
It is hard to blame him, as he is stuck between a rock and a hard wall – either he keeps the teachers, even with the occasional physical punishment, or he deprives the children of an education and the chance of a better future.

At the end of the talk, we agreed to have a teacher’s meeting to discuss all these things. I suggested the use of anonymous surveys the children can fill out regarding individual teachers’ performance and methods. The problem is that printing anything out here is difficult and costly. The priest does have an individual printer for special cases, but paper and ink are hard to come by (and expensive – an ink cartridge is over $60). The closest town with copy facilities is Anse D’ainault, a 45-minute drive away. As always, nothing is easy in Carcasse. I’ll report on that teachers’ meeting once it takes place.

At the start of this post I said I would discuss some parts of Haiti’s social culture and how they affect development in my mind, but I ended up mainly talking about corporal punishments. However, I believe this practice creates much larger problems, for individuals and for society as a whole. I’ll talk about why in another post.

dimanche 11 mars 2012

Day 1 in Haiti - Port-au-Prince

Monday 02/20/2012 – Port-au-Prince
Haiti! Finally. After months of waiting, planning, discussing, dreaming and reading up on Haiti, I finally got to see the country with my own eyes. “Ayiti” as the Haitians write it in their now officially recognized Haitian creole, means the land of mountains. And it was plain to see why as we flew above it in the airplane. Mountains of brown dirt were specked with dots of green foliage, far and few between, the glaring proof of severe deforestation. Thousands of feet above the ground, the rolling mountains looked like a piece of wrinkled cloth, reminding me of the powerful tectonic forces that had pushed the Earth’s plates over hundreds of millions of years, in much the same way a fabric creases under pressure.

Our team, Jack Reid, Lee Bristol, Martha Mason, Diana and Ben Snouffer, and me, landed in Toussaint Louverture International Airport around noon and were welcomed by Father Verdieu’s brother, Canas. On the way out of the airport, a dozen people immediately crowded us, each one hoping to get a small tip for helping us to carry the suitcases – one of many reminders of the country’s poverty. I got my first glimpse of Port-au-Prince on the way to his house. It was not my first time in a developing country, and so I was not surprised by the typical scenes of a poor overcrowded city: unpaved roads, people in rags carrying heavy loads on their heads, pushing carts full of merchandise as they could not afford to transport it by car.

After dropping off our bags at Canas’ house (and a few beers), we went to check out the base of an NGO called “Haiti Communitere” (recently changed from Grassroots United), which mainly acts as a coordinating body between different NGOs – an important role, seeing as Haiti has the most NGOs per capita of any country in the world. The base is a hub and a kind of experimental ground for different organizations to try out their sustainable buildings and small-scale projects. Or to quote one of our team members (he knows who he is ;-) ), a dream place for “hippies gone wild.” If “hippiness” is all about green, cheap, do-it-yourself sustainable technologies that the average Haitian can use to better their lives without the need for massive outside funding, then count me in.
The best place to find out about their projects is on their website, but I’ll go over a few things we saw.

The first thing we saw was the aquaponics center. This was the first time I had ever seen one, and I was impressed by the simplicity of this self-contained ecosystem. I don’t remember the details, but the idea was that Tilapia fish in a black plastic tank were fed a type of plant contained in a nearby box, and their composted waste material fertilized the plants, with a small pump circulating the water around. There was no need to add fish feed or clean the water, which is I imagine part of what makes regular fish farming so environmentally unfriendly and expensive.

Next we took a look at the different types of composting toilets – I was especially eager to see the thermophilic composting system set up by an NGO called “GiveLove,” who has set up composting systems in several spots in Haiti including Cite Soleil, a refugee camp outside Port-au-Prince, and I one of the largest slums in the northern hemisphere. I could talk for hours and hours about how fascinating composting toilets are (especially thermophilic ones) and why they’re a crucial part of the solution to fixing our planet (ecologically and in many other ways), but I’ll save that for another post. Strangely enough, many people don’t seem to enjoy hearing about the wonders of composting “humanure” - especially not over dinner, I’ve found. But I highly recommend “The Humanure Handbook” by Joseph Jenkins, for those who are interested in the topic. This book isn’t just an instruction manual on how to start your own composting toilet - it gives the bigger picture, putting many related environmental problems into perspective, in a witty, humorous way.
Next we saw the different types of green buildings. Since virtually all of Haiti’s steel and cement is imported, construction of American-style homes is expensive. Workers don’t have the right tools to mix the cement properly, and tend to water it down too much in order to reduce costs. The result is shoddy buildings, ready to collapse at the first earthquake, as we saw in the Port-au-Prince earthquake last year. This article “Death by a thousand shovels” (http://cementtrust.wordpress.com/2010/08/04/concrete-crisis-in-haiti/) lays most of the blame for the 230,000 deaths on poor construction practices. All of the green homes we visited in Haiti Communitere, on the other hand, are made from locally-sourced materials (mostly) and have been tested for resistance to earthquakes and other natural disasters. We visited beautiful houses made out of trash (walls made from plastic bottles, or Styrofoam/trash bricks), cob (a mixture of straw, clay and sand), strawbales, earthbags, and many other designs. I could also go on about green homes for hours, but there’s plenty of information on the web about it (such as here: http://www.greenhomebuilding.com).
There are also plenty of people, including average americans, who have built their own homes out of cob for a few thousand dollars, literally from the ground beneath their feet. Their stories are easy to find on the web and quite interesting. Cob houses are quite durable, as evidenced by the fact that there are still several-hundred-year old English cob houses being used.
I also quickly looked at one of the NGO’s albums of solar cookers made and used in different parts of Haiti.

We returned to Canas’ house to find a sumptuous feast waiting for us. Canas imparted that this meal was a small thank you gift for all that St. Mary’s has done for the Parish of Carcasse. Unfortunately I’m writing this a week later after the actual meal, so I don’t remember everything we had, but I know it was delicious. We spent the rest of the evening chatting under his cherry tree, accompanied by clucking hens and proud fighting cocks. We went to bed early, exhausted from our early start at 3 am and long trip.

First day in Carcasse

Tuesday, 02/21/2012
We took a flight to Jeremie first thing in the morning on a small plane holding maybe 10 people. I was a bit nervous about the flight at first, but my fears were relieved as soon as we soared into the air, and before I knew it we were landing on a shelly runway in what seemed to be the middle of a jungle.

We had arrived in the middle of Carnaval, and kids wearing paper-mache masks and towels on their heads grunted and growled at us, begging for some kind of compensation for their act. Father Verdieu greeted us at the airport, a small one or two-room building. After hugs and greetings for the old-timers and introductions for the first-timers, some locals helped us get our 10 or so heavy suitcases on the car roof and strap them down.
We drove to a nearby church and met with Pat Labuda, the medical mission organizer, and Honore, our translator and sanitation expert, who would accompany us on our week-long trip to Carcasse. After breakfast, Pat introduced us to several doctors, nurses and assistants who were seeing patients and giving out medications in the church.
We then packed ourselves back into the car like sardines and took off. Haiti is about the size of Maryland, but the infrastructure is so poor that it would have taken us about eight and a half hours to drive from Port-au-Prince to Jeremy, and the drive from Jeremie to Carcasse (30 miles away as the crow flies) took us 4 hours. Part of this is due to winding roads around mountains of course, but muddy roads carved by run-off from bare mountains slowed us down considerably. Navigating an overcharged car around ditches while maintaining a safe distance from the edge of the mountain cliff required considerable skill, and I’m thankful to Father Verdieu and Jack for getting us to Carcasse safely. I doubt I would be here to write this if I had been driving (especially since I don’t know how to drive a stick shift!).

On the way, we admired the landscape – mostly deforested mountain tops, and lusher valleys where all the topsoil that had washed down had accumulated. We passed small towns with houses made from concrete, sticks, bamboo, tarps with USAID and other donor names written on them, and other materials. People on the side of the road waved to us, small kids pointed at us and yelled out “blan!” which means foreigner (“blanc” in french means white). Small children went around naked, or with a t-shirt on. Adults wore American-style clothes, although I’m guessing many were donated, such as a t-shirt I saw with something like “Miami sewage maintenance team” written on it.

We came across several carnival crowds blocking the road, dressed in festive and strange outfits, marching and dancing, beating on their drums and blowing their whistles in synchrony.

We finally approached Carcasse in the late afternoon, and had to stop as the road was blocked by all of St. Joseph’s school’s students who had come to welcome us. All 300 or so of the students were there, singing “Oh welcome to you, welcome to you my friend.” We got out of the car and walked the rest of the way to Carcasse with them. Several students stayed and talked with me, speaking English as much as possible. One student told me he loved English and wanted to become an interpreter. We were greeted by more singing and dancing once we got to the village by both the school children and adults in their carnival outfits.

The school principal and a couple students gave thank you speeches, and Jack reciprocated by saying how happy he was to be in Carcasse again and to see how things had changed for the better.

We took the rest of the evening to settle into our rooms, have dinner and rest from the road.

As they knew I would be staying for 3 to 6 months, they gave me my own room, thoughtfully decorated with small religious figurines and stuffed animals, and papers on the wall with positive messages like “you are at home.” I soon learned that a great deal of work went on behind the scenes for everything we saw and used at the rectory. The beds and the furniture certainly didn’t get there by home delivery from some big furniture store. Father Verdieu probably transported them all from Jeremie or even Port-au-Prince on those bumpy roads. The water is another case in point – it all has to be transported from the stream, a 10 minute walk away.

The rectory has two 50-gallon drums to be filled. One stays close to the bathrooms, one is for the kitchen. The father employs someone to fetch the water from the stream, a practically full-time job. With 10 or so people in the household, the water goes fast – for bucket baths, hand-washing clothes and dishes, pouring some down one of the toilets after use (the other toilet is a dry latrine) and many other uses. In the first couple days, I didn’t even notice the man refilling them – he came in before everyone got up (or at least before I got up, before 6:30 am) and made his multiple trips to the stream, carrying several buckets of water in a wheelbarrow at a time. Augustin would have to refill the drums several times a day. I asked him the other day how many trips he made, and he communicated to me through creole and sign language that filling up one drum takes at least 10 trips. After he complained of elbow pain one evening (for which Jack gave him some painkillers), I realized just how heavy a toll carrying that wheelbarrow was on the back and elbows. For drinking water, a panoply of items is needed. Gallons of filtered water are brought in from Jeremie or LesCayes. When that water runs out, local spring water (contaminated by people washing themselves and other things in it) is sterilized with aquatabs and passed through an american-type water filter, or slowly filters through a clay pot sitting in a bucket, called “Aquapur.” Honore, our water and sanitation expert, told me this was his preferred filtration method, as it was cheap enough for many people (less than 5$ I think), lasted 5 years, and worked well. As a last resort, local spring water is boiled. I’ve talked to the father about using the SODIS method, and we’ll probably start that as soon as we can go to Jeremie to buy plastic bottles of water, or collect them on the ground after the “Fete Patronale,” when vendors will come to sell all kinds of things, and people will inevitably leave trash everywhere, as there are no trashcans around.
I also asked the father later in the week where most of our food came from, and he told me that when visitors came, it was easier to buy it in bulk from Jeremie (4 hours away) than to go to the weekly market in Irois 15 minutes away by car to haggle for things piecemeal. Food from Carcasse was occasionally eaten. In my two weeks here, we’ve had coconuts, tea made from Corossol tree leaves growing on the rectory property, milk (boiled) from a local farmer’s cow, and eggs which I assume are local.

The rectory property also has a compost heap and plenty of chicken running around, but I’m not sure how often their eggs are harvested. I found out that being able to live off of your backyard garden is more myth than reality. Most cultivators here own land far off in the mountains just to be able to feed themselves, and those who can’t afford land and who aren’t fishermen don’t have many options left. As I settle into my life here, I realize more and more that nothing comes easy in Carcasse. It’s easy to take things for granted with Father Verdieu providing for me and making me as comfortable as possible, but I’m sure there’s plenty more work which I’m not even aware of that goes on just to provide basic necessities. Jack Reid has written up a very good log of everything accomplished during the team’s week here, so I won’t repeat their work. I’ll comment on a few things I was more involved in.

Carcasse - Day 2

Wednesday, 02/22/2012

We set up two solar cookers full of rice on the school roof. Before we had even put the food in the pots, most of the secondary school students came up to see what was going on. So I explained the use of the solar cooker, how it worked, and how it was important for preventing deforestation. Most students were interested but a little skeptical. Some started joking around and teasing me, saying “And if it doesn’t work, are you going to go cut down the trees yourself?” I had told a few students that I had previously worked in forest conservation, and they found the idea of me having to go chop down trees while preaching about forest conservation hilarious. I admitted I would have to and laughed with them. Unfortunately, the day soon turned cloudy and I let them know that it probably wouldn’t cook in this weather, and that there was no need to come back up later to see the results. School was out for the week, and the students had only come on the principal’s request, so I didn’t want them to stick around for nothing. Some of the teachers stayed behind to talk. They wanted to know how they could get their own and try it out. I told them I had brought two rolls of aluminum foil and other materials to make some, but that they would need to provide the cardboard. But I realized they were thinking on a much larger scale when they said “But how will we get enough aluminum and cardboard for all 4000 people here?” It was wonderful to see that they had already understood the potential of solar cookers to improve people’s lives and save the environment.

Meanwhile, Honore was giving his water and sanitation seminar to the secondary school students. I had talked to him the night before about his seminar, and we had gone over a couple pages of his creole sanitation education manual. His book included information on the SODIS method, and he told me he would be talking about it in his seminars.

SODIS is short for solar disinfection. It’s a surprisingly simple and cheap way to kill human pathogens in water by exposing them to 6 hours of the sun’s UV radiation. All one needs to do is fill up a transparent, non-tinted plastic bottle with contaminated water, leave it out in the sun all day in a horizontal position, and by the end of the day it will be drinkable. It’s deceptively simple, but just like for solar cookers, training and reinforcements are needed to effect lifestyle changes.
After his seminar, Honore brought the kids up to the roof to show them the plastic bottles we had filled up with water lying in the sun. I’ve talked with the Father and teachers about starting a program to teach kids to use the SODIS method at school, and they’ve agreed it’s a good idea.

Later that evening, Diana, Ben and Jack met with key members of the Association of Producers of Coffee in Carcasse (APCC) to discuss their experiences. Walnus, the head of the APCC later asked me if I could help him and another APCC member with something. He invited me to read a document on how to run a small business association in Creole. In the end, he was the one helping me to understand the Creole text rather than me helping him with anything. I suppose they wanted me to make sure they were reading the document correctly as they were not expert readers. I think it was mainly though a way to engage me and make me feel included. Like many people here, Walnus always has a smile on his face, and as Jack put it, “being around him just makes you happy.” Despite the language barrier, we shared many good laughs with him and other people from Carcasse. Since I speak French, I can understand most written creole. That’s part of the reason I didn’t put too much effort into reading my creole lesson book before coming to Haiti. Reading it was so easy and intuitive, I figured that listening and understanding it would be a breeze. I soon realized I was wrong - spoken creole is much harder, especially when people talk quickly and use contractions.