What Now? Haiti: Part 5

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4


So what next? What does Haiti really need?

To be clear, I would not wish what happened to Haiti on any country. However, in an odd way Haiti was probably better suited for the horror of an earthquake like this then most nations. Because political corruption has kept that nation in such poverty, most of the nation already got its water from hand pumped wells. The majority of people use small charcoal fires for their cooking.




What was really interesting was that more then one person I talked with didn't even realize that Haiti and the Dominican Republic share different sides of the same island. The difference between the two nations is startling, especially when you consider that both nations have much of the same natural resources and weather. The Dominican Republic does gets more rain, as it is situated on the weather side of the island. Haiti is on the lee side, with a 5000 foot mountain range dividing the island. Having driven through much of the two nations, I can tell you that the difference is striking.



Don’t get me wrong—the Dominican Republic is not a wealthy, first world nation, but it is so much more prosperous and stable when you compare to its close neighbor. The reality of the situation seems even worse once you realize that the poverty in Haiti is not based on lack of options. Many little island nations in the area have managed to turn their islands into tourist destinations. Unfortunately for Haiti, the corruption in their government has been so bad so many years that it has kept outside companies from wanting to invest. The poverty isn’t due to lack of revenue, either. The government has collected taxes for projects many times over, but the money mysteriously disappears before it can be spent for what it was collected for. I would not be surprised if unrest among the people grows and there is a major political upheaval in Haiti within the next 6 months. Unfortunately, even if that does happen, we can only expect more of the same. The new group will take power, and during the unrest many of the aid groups in the country will pull their people out for safety, never to return.




So, here’s the real question: Is there anything we can really do, or is it just a depressing nation? I think there is much that can be done.

Housing:

Once I came home I found that many groups were trying to get contracts from the US government to build houses in Haiti. In theory, it’s a fantastic idea. I had even had some thoughts about this myself. The main problem with this idea is that it’s a slow-moving process, and Haiti needs a solution now. There’s another problem with this method of helping: who gets the homes? As evidenced in the past, you can’t rely on the Haitian government to make a fair decision. The bit of government that is left will do all they can to direct any new homes to their friends and families. Even worse, they also know which homes belong to people that are now dead and are likely to claim those properties as their own in an effort to get more properties built for free. When you combine the corruption with the fact that any new homes built will not be able to be built quickly or cheaply, it becomes even worse. After all, the lawyers for the American firms will not allow the builders to build anything substandard to American standards out of fear After all, it’s not a stretch to imagine a situation where a lawyer will find a Haitian that had a brick fall on their foot and talk them into suing the “big rich American firm” for having given them a free home. As I mentioned, the other problem is the speed. Homes are needed now. Right now. Every day that goes by is one day closer to the rainy season. If the government gets involved, there is no way of having anything happen quickly. It should also be noted that there are many companies bidding and trying to get attention for their new disaster home. What I haven’t seen or heard anything about is repairing the 50% of the homes that only slightly damaged. While in Haiti I looked at a great many structures. I can tell you that there are a lot of damaged buildings that can be repaired quickly and cheaply. Unfortunately there is no real profit to be found in the repair work. That, coupled with the fact that there is a huge liability if it’s not done right means the quickest, easiest, and most straightforward way of getting people off the streets and back into homes isn’t even being looked at by American firms right now.



Think of what a simple solution building repair is: The Haitian people tend to live in and around family. In fact, it’s very often the case that entire blocks would be composed of extended family members. If only one or two homes on that block could be repaired, that would often mean that the all the people of that block would have a place to sleep because their family would take them in. Of the many homes that I inspected, many of them could be made safe in one day for under $200 by only a few men.


As for the other problem (the risk of being sued), the solution is simple: have the Haitians do the work and have small groups fund the material. Smaller groups would not make for a rich enough target for a lawyer to bother going after, and if the groups were only funding the materials then any work not done to American standards would be the legal responsibility of the Haitians who did the work.




Debris removal:

As I drove into Port Au Prince that first day, I remember staring at all the destruction. In my mind’s eye I could see the clean-up: Americans could ship in some heavy construction equipment and get the job done right…Big, yellow Caterpillars would line the streets, breaking down and removing the rubble.

Now? I really don’t think that’s the best idea. After all, you wouldn’t actually be able to get the construction equipment and personnel down here on their own dime. Instead, you’d have to find a couple of wealthy businessmen to fund the operation. While that might be a possibility, the problem with that scenario is that the operation would be run by Americans, funded by Americans, and it would be Americans earning the money and depositing it in their US bank accounts to spend back at home. One of the biggest problems that Haiti has is that there are so few jobs. If you look at it from the right perspective, this quake could actually be used to help jump start Haiti's economy.

Think about it: The least amount of money that it would cost a US firm to hire a US heavy equipment operator would probably be $400 a day. That’s the VERY least it would cost. The reality is that it would likely cost a great deal more. Not only would they have to hire the operators, they would also have to ship the equipment to Haiti AND maintain the equipment at high cost. There would be legal fees involved, and secretarial fees to handle the mountain of paperwork… by the time the job is completed, the amount of money needed to finance it would be a small fortune.

On the other hand, hiring a Haitian man to work costs around $5 a day. I’ve heard people say that they’ve read that the wage is $1 a day, but that’s really an average of what a Haitian earns ($5/day) combined with majority of people being unemployed ($0/day). Think about it: For the cost of what one American and his equipment would run you (likely $600 a day or more), you could hire 120 Haitian men that not only want but desperately need the work. The money those men make would go straight back into the Haitian economy. It would be used to feed their families and friends and make repairs to their own homes. The truth of the matter is that getting Haitians working would do more then anything else to help that nation. The crowds that are shown on the television are usually depicted as a hungry mob. In reality, it’s just crowds of men looking for work. It’s not that they’re lazy—during my time there, I saw Haitians bringing their crops into the area to sell… But how can their prices compete with the free food that an aid group might drop on the same corner? On the other hand, if that same aid group put out the word that they would pay $5 a day for men to come and break up the rubble of the homes that are too damaged to be repair, there would be men lined up around the block for the work. Not only would it be solving the hunger/unemployment problem, but it would also give the people some pride and dignity at helping to rebuild their own country instead of standing on the sideline, watching the Americans come and work.

Will I go back? I hope to. I would love to lead a group back and make use of the many contacts I was able to develop. If you have an interest or know a group that is wanting to go please contact me.

John
johnnorling@gmail.com

Haiti: What You Need to Know (Part 4)

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

Haiti and Driving: No place in the world compares to Haiti when it comes to driving. I realize I haven't been everywhere, but I have been to a few third world countries and Jose has been to a fair number as well. The other Americans we spoke with have been to even more. Everyone agreed Haiti was unmatched. I can't imagine how it could possibly be any worse.

The first rule of driving in Haiti is there are no rules. Do you think there is too much traffic on your side of the road? Drive on the other side. Why bother going the long way around a traffic circle? If you think it is shorter, drive straight into oncoming traffic and right over the center island, even if there is a cop standing there, directing traffic. At one point while we were driving, cars pulled to the side to let an ambulance through. The driver of the truck we were in saw the chance and crossed over to drive head on towards the ambulance. Never mind the fact that we were almost bumper-to-bumper. Never mind that there was no place for either of us to pull out of the way, so we both just sat there, face-to-face with the ambulance till traffic moved a little bit and our driver could pull back in to the lineup, proud of having cut ahead a few cars.

Cars running over people’s gear because it was shorter then backing up and going around? Saw it.

Truck running over a girl’s foot who was walking next to the road? Saw it, and Jose treated the girl. The truck kept going.

A little car cutting in between a convey of Humvees that have soldiers with machine guns sticking out every opening? Sure! Why not?

Cars are considered undriveable in Haiti if the horn doesn't work. The horn is used for everything. In fact, the only thing it doesn’t seem to be used for is actually signaling the way it is supposed to. Do you see someone you know? Horn.

See someone who owes you money? Horn, then throw the car into park, jump out (leaving your car blocking traffic) and try and get the money.

Don't like the fact that traffic is stopped? Horn, even if every car ahead of you as far as the eye can see is at a dead standstill.

Want a pretty girl to look at you? Stop in the middle of the road and hold down your horn. The odds are that the cars stuck behind you will add their own horns to the mix, which will certainly get her to look!

There were next to no stop lights in Haiti. When we finally managed to see one that was actually running because of a generator, the driver stopped because it was green. I learned not to watch as it was too stressful. I would just talk to whoever I was or do my best to sightsee.

There are no new cars in Haiti. In fact, before cars are allowed on the island they are required to have dents or get a door painted a random color. I wasn't told this, but I am pretty sure this is true based on what I saw. Of course, not everyone in Haiti can afford a car. If you can't afford a car, then you have two other options: toptop's or motorcycles.

Toptop's are trucks that are highly decorated, often with English words but they don't always make sense. The pictures that are painted all over the vehicles often look like they used movie posters to get their ideas. Now, there two basic kinds of toptops: those overheated on the side of the road with an optional flat tire and those with 57 people packed in. It’s amazing how many people manage to cram into those things... think college kids in a phone booth. If you’re hanging off the back or the side of a toptop it is called “riding express”.

The other options for getting around are lightweight, little motorcycles with extra spots for feet on the back. Often, two or three people IN ADDITION to the driver manage to fit themselves on a motorcycle. These little motorcycles are often used to carry freight as well. You wouldn't believe me if I told you what I saw, so I’m not even going to bother going into detail on it. My last day in Haiti I rode one to the airport. I don't think we ever topped 25 mph, but then again I never saw one with more then a 125cc engine. In contrast, the bike that I own is not a big bike by American standards, but it has 750cc engine. While driving around I saw a few bikes that didn't have brakes. Please understand that I’m not saying that the bikes didn’t have bad brakes. I’m saying they didn’t even have a brake handle or a brake line. On a side note, the guy dropped me off at the airport next to a completely naked man. It was not the first naked man walking the streets I had seen on the trip, but then again the first one had on a pair of very worn out chaps, so maybe he didn't count.

Haiti and Food: The easy joke here would be to say nothing and talk about something else.

While there I saw tons and tons of food... all sitting at the airport in neat little rows. The people, however, had very little food. Rice and beans are common. If they can, they add a bit of meat or vegetables to the rice. The little bit that I ate was tasty. Like I mentioned before, I ate very little while there, because it felt like I was eating food that should go to someone more needy then myself.

TMI warning: After about a week I was surprised that my shorts didn't have more room around the waist. Once I thought about it, I realized that between barely eating and having a hard time staying hydrated I had hardly passed anything. Now that I am home and the pipes are starting to work, I am getting thinner everyday. This morning I held out my jeans and could look down to my knees.

I was told that the high water mark of Haitian food is goat, but I didn't get a chance to try it. Noodles make there way into a number of dishes. It’s not fancy high-end stuff like top ramen but actual noodles. Food is cooked outside over a charcoal fire, using DIY (homemade) charcoal. People buy their food from vendors that sell it out in the street. You can tell how tasty the food is by the number of flies per square inch. More then once, Jose or I would look at what was put before us, nervously and take a small bite, and then realize that it wasn’t bad. Of course, if we made the mistake of thinking about where the food was actually bought then it changed the taste.

Corruption: I now understand why Haiti's national pasttime is to have another political coup. Haiti's main crop isn’t beans, or sweet potatoes, or even coffee. It’s corruption. Each year, the little island nation produces over 42 million bushels worth of corrupt politicians. Our first warning was from an American coming out. He told us that the border guards will tell us we need to pay different fees to get in that we don't actually have to pay, and that we should demand to talk with their superior as to why we have to pay to come help their fellow Haitian. It was clear that the guy telling us couldn't wrap his head around the idea of people who would use a disaster like this to line their own pockets. Everything has a price in Haiti. I asked a national at one point if there was anything in Haiti that was not for sale. He laughed, but shook his head. If you hear stories of Americans having trouble working through the required paperwork to get an adopted child out of Haiti, the rest of the story is that the paperwork is actually finished and that the official is just waiting for them to offer a bribe. The adoption office is one of the most desired spots to work in Haiti because there is so much money to be made.

If you look at a map of Haiti you will notice some big lakes. For decades, there have been projects in the works to setup hydro electric plants. The Dominicann Republic gets much of it's power that way. The problem is, after the taxes come in or the next loan from the world bank clears...the money just disappears. This has happened a number of times, and locals joke about the idea of anything ever happening. Within the culture the idea seems to be fairly straightforward: if you ever get your chance at power, grab all that you can for you. One of the ways we saw this in action was at the camp near Leogane. A little tarp city (using the term “tent city” gives the idea that aid isactually getting out of the airport) had been setup. We arrived one evening, spent the night, and saw a lot of people the next day before going back to Port Au Prince. An aid group had made its way through the tarp city and set up some clean water. They also found a local man with a bit of English and an education. They gave him some money to get supplies (basic things like beans and rice) for the people in the camp. When they came back to check on him, he and all of his extended family were living in very nice makeshift shelters, way off away from the rest of the camp. He had purchased some batteries and a solar charger for himself, and they were eating like kings. He had even managed to find some ice and had cold drinks. The rest of the people were still living under tarps and had yet to receive any aid.

It's hard for Americans of any class to be able to comprehend actions like this. Who would steal from starving people? Unfortunately, this is all the people have ever known. They are like the abused wife that continues to stay with the husband that keeps on beating her. Not only was that guy abusing the money and power he was given, he actually had the gall to ask for more money when the aid group came back to check on things. My guess is that he thought, “I’m sure the American aid workers are lining their own pockets. Naturally they’ll understand me lining my own a bit before anything goes out.” After awhile, I began to believe that Haitians all have a shake-down gene. On a side note, Haitians seem to be well-suited to work at the UN. It was very hard for Jose and I who had taken off work, bought our own tickets, and were working LONG hours in poor conditions with little food in order to help a child and then have the parent ask us to give them our shoes or something else that we had with us. When we said no, they would move on to the next item that they wanted of ours.. The language issues didn't help the matter much either. Even if they didn’t intend it to come out like that, the words we heard were, “You give me money, now.” Again, they would ask this of us after we just finished helping them or their child. Please understand that this was not every person we dealt with. Still, it doesn't take to many when you’re tired to start to get hot under the collar. If I had gotten a bit of sleep, maybe it would have been easier for me to be understanding.

Many of the people are under the impression that all Americans are millionaires and that we don't actually work. They were often shocked to learn how many hours my wife and I worked every week, and some flat out refused to believe me. Maybe it was hard for them to understand because of the way their own work hours are set up. During the summer it will often be 100 to 115 every day, so they don't work a straight 8 hour day even if they have a job. In their mind, a few hours in the morning and maybe a few hours in the evening is really working hard. Of course, the going rate is only $5 a day. If I were king of the world, I would hire crews of Haitians to go from block to block, and pay them at the end of the day for breaking and removing the piles of concrete. That way, the country would be helped by removing the destroyed home, and the people will be employed and given money so that they can do their own repairs.

One of the people I ran across was a reporter for a local radio station. He was trying to arrange something were I would be interviewed and take about construction techniques that were better for earthquakes. The minister of communications for Haiti got involved, and then next thing you know he wanted me to pay for the interpreter as well as the air time. Nothing ever came of it. I just couldn't bring myself to give anything to a politician who has made money by stealing from the people, just so I would be allowed to help the people. Again, not every Haitian was this way, but it was very common. The Christians we met really stood out, simply because they were some of the only people not looking for ways to uses this tragedy to line their pockets. I have a deep and very realistic fear that a lot of the aid money will be handed off to the locals to be used to do good... and then it will just disappear.

Safety: The news shows nothing but the bad stuff. I was scared going in because I made the mistake of believing what the news had shown me.While I am sure the press gets it right sometime, every time I have been involved with something and then get a chance to see the way the media tells the story, they get it wrong in some way or another. Every. Single. Time. I even have articles that were written about me. They interviewed me, I gave them easy, straightforward answers, and then they still got parts wrong. So here’s the real question: Can you find trouble in Haiti? Well, sure. Can I find trouble in South central in California? Well, sure. While I was there, I did a lot of talking to quite a few people so that I could learn all that I could about this subject before coming back home. Here is the bottom line: If the sun is up, Haiti is full of nice people. If the sun is down, then you need to be careful, because there are places you do not want to be.

It is very common for families to have lived in the same neighborhood for many generations. In fact, it is not uncommon for people to live within 200 yards of most of their relatives. This helps keep locals from committing crime on other locals. Everyone in the area knows each other, so they wouldn't want to steal from a brother or a friend. If they are hungry, however, it is far too common for a person to walk for miles, and then look for a spot to break in. The Haitian saying is that “When it gets dark, the wolves come out.” This is why people lock themselves in behind bars, and why there were times Jose and I needed to be out of an area before it got dark. My advice to you is that if you’re going to Haiti and are planning on living with people, find out if there is a pastor close by and if the people know him. Pastors often are respected, and if you’re in with the local pastor it offers you a lot of protection. The next best thing is to get to know the momma-boss. The momma-boss is the matriarch of the neighborhood. She always has enough food-- if you don't have anything, you can go ask her and she will find away to get you food. Because so many of the people have been in that place at one point or another, they feel like they owe her. If you are with the momma-boss, you are in one of the safest places in Haiti.

Haiti: Part 3

Part 1

Part 2


The first two days were mostly just a lot of the same. I walked all over Port Au Prince, inspecting buildings and helping, and Jose treated lots of people. I think it was the second day before we went actually went to the airport for the first time (Jose might have gone once without me.) Whenever we saw someone who was injured beyond what we could handle, we would need to find a vehicle to take the patent in. The United States Air Force was handling the security at the airport, but they were working with Brazilians in shifts. Without being escorted by an American or someone with credentials, getting into the airport was impossible for the Haitians.

The guys manning the gate couldn't believe we were living “outside the wire”. They spent their entire day dealing with hungry crowds desperately trying to get help. They still had the same skewed view of Haiti that Jose and I had had when we first arrived. To their credit, it wasn’t necessarily all their fault. As they weren’t allowed to get out of the airport area, the only thing they knew about situations in Haiti is what they saw at the airport and what they saw from watching TV. The problem with that is obvious: If a news director has to chose between showing heart-warming images of destitute Haitians worshiping God in the streets because their church is too damaged, or the occasional looting… Well, looting wins every time.

The area around the airport was always busy with lots of vehicles and people. While the area we were staying was only about a mile north as the crow flies, it could sometimes take us up to an hour to drive an injured person into the airport. Between the traffic and the people not having an understanding of urgency, Haiti makes for a great place to learn patience.

Once on the base, there were a number of groups that had set up tents to create make-shift hospitals. The first group that we interacted with was funded by a single person. The guy had wanted to help and had the money, so he sent down about 25 people, plus supplies. They were getting ready to go home, so they let Jose and I go through the supplies and take all that we wanted. By that point, Jose had seen a variety of people. While he would be using notes and/or pictures to ask questions of the doctors regarding treatment options, I would pick through the piles of boxes, looking for stuff that we needed and would actually be able to use. After that group left, our next group that we interacted with was a large tent run by the University of Miami.

Somewhere during the third day before we began to get a bit of the run-around. When we would try to obtain supplies we would have to give intricate explanations about who we were, and how we got there, and why we weren’t with a bigger group. After thoroughly explaining everything, the person would say, “Well, I am not the one you need to talk to. Go talk to X and ask them if you can get supplies.” This scenario happened again and again. Jose and I were beyond exhausted. We had both had next to no sleep and had been pressing it hard, all day in the sun. Jose was close to tears with frustration. All we wanted was to obtain more gear to head back out into the city, so we could help the injured. Trying to cut through the layers of red tape in order to do that was getting to us. Finally, after the fifth or sixth time, one of the doctors taking a breather overheard us. He brought us over some cans of something halfway cold and then led us to the right people. He told them that any time we came in that they were to give us anything that we needed.

It was the encouragement we needed. We loaded up the truck we had brought, even managing to attain a wheelchair for a stroke patient who had lost the use of his right side. When Jose had initially seen the patient, he told Jose that the only thing he needed was blood pressure medication. Apparently he had already been seen by a doctor who informed him that high blood pressure was his only problem. It turns out that the person who had been treating him was a Haitian doctor. We grew to realize that Haitian doctors or nurses often knew next to nothing when it comes to medicine. I was told by more then one Haitian that if you want a license or a degree, if you knew someone or had a little bit of money, you could just buy it.

On Saturday morning a group of pastors got together where we were staying in order to attempt to make a list of the church members who were killed. When they had finished, they took me to an area that was setup with "tents" to house those in the church who had lost their homes. They took me to the church, hoping to get my opinion on whether or not it was fixable.

From the front it looked really bad. The church looked like it was three stories. Most of the taller structures in Haiti had come down, because in Haiti they build each building the same, regardless of how many stories it is eventually going to be. The bottom of the didn't go in very far, as it was built on a hill. You couldn’t really that that until you went in.

If a Hollywood set guy attempted to design a set of a creepy basement, complete with bugs, junk, filth, and pits for the sewer, he wouldn’t have been able to top the inside of this building.

To make it even worse, I had to use my flash light every time I went into a place because the electricity was still off to the whole area. A couple of years ago Haiti started a program to change all of the wooden electrical poles to concrete, because so many of the wooden ones were being destroyed in the Hurricanes. Naturally, all of the concrete poles went down.

Anyways, back to the church. The floors and walls were natural dirt and rock, but the ceiling was concrete. Every so often, while I was looking for damage, a person that I hadn't seen would stand up and walk out. (It reminded me of the story of Saul and King David in the cave.) What had looked like the second floor from the front of the building was actually the main church. Thankfully, it had sustained almost no damage. I pointed out things that could be done to strengthen the building to an architect and an engineer that the pastors had brought along. It was amazing how little they knew. If I was in front of an architect and an engineer here in the states, I wouldn't open my mouth in front of either of them. Out here, though, I was light years ahead of them. Don’t’ get me wrong-- it's not that the people are dumb. It’s that there is just SO much ignorance about so many things that we take for granted here. Once, when my interpreter didn't know the word “ignorance”, I told him that my wife wouldn't know how to cook over an open fire like the women of Haiti do. He laughed at the idea, but it helped him understand.

I went up to the third floor of the church last. The front had come down. While I was looking around, one of the men told me that a 9 year-old girl had been killed in the quake, and that her head was trapped beneath the rubble. Men from the church had come to try to remove her body for burial, but the rubble was too deep. They were forced to remove the leave the head and remove her body so that they could bury what they could. I asked them if it would be okay to take a picture to show people back home. They agreed, and I took the shot.

After I took the picture, I tried to shoot a video but didn't get far before I wept. That same morning Jose had cried at the airport. By then we had both seen a lot, and we had begun to know and love the people.

When I watched from the states, I didn't know these people. I was just was motivated by the idea that if it happened to me, I would want people to come and help. Once we had lived with them, and eaten with them, and slept side-by-side with them, it made the tragedy so much more personal. We had even gotten to know some of the people in the church, because a pastor would come to our area every night at 9pm and lead a time of prayer and worship.

Sunday they held church in the court yard of a mostly intact home. It was very crowded and hot, as we were in the open sun. They later let me know that the service only went two hours because they had no shade. In the states, pastors apologize for the services going on too long. In Haiti, they apologize for going too short. They had us sit up front, right behind the pastor as the guest of honor. I felt bad, because they bumped two older ladies to give us seats. They asked me to share something, but between being tired and sitting in the heat I am not 100% sure what I said. Hopefully, I was not too much of a heratic. It doesn’t really matter what I said, because when the real pastor got going, he showed how it was done: loud, with a lot of emotion, and not mumbling to an interpreter like I had done.

As soon as it was over, the people lined up to be seen. I was able to cut the line in half by taking care of the light patents or turning away those that we had no ability to help. Jose saw the rest. It took a little over four hours to work through the 70-80 people that were left.. Towards the end I was starting to get burnt out, but Jose kept going strong the entire time. The woman whose house we were using to work in was introduced as a nurse from America. She had one of the bigger, nicer homes that I saw while I was there. I later saw a CNA certificate hanging on her wall. In America, a CNA is the bottom rung of the medical professions. CNA's can’t give and medicines and can only do minor care. In Haiti, her certificate made her highly trained.

Often, while Jose and I were going to sleep, we would take about what we had seen and done as we tried to unwind. I always looked forward to those times. Although the Haitians that can speak a bit of English were all eager to try and help translate, because they wanted to get better it was just one more thing to wear us down. All day long, on top of the lack of sleep, and the horror and the tragedy surrounding us, and the constant backlog of whatever else we were doing, we had to try very hard to understand what the people were saying. One humorous example happened while we were walking along beside one of the guys who was helping to translate. Turning to me, he said, “I make you wine.” Thinking that he was trying to offer me some kind of alcoholic drink as a thank you for all the work I was doing, I shook my head.

“No , thank you. I don’t drink.”

He shook his head, and repeated himself. “I make you wine.”

Again, I told him that I didn’t want any. Shaking his head at me, he then turned to the wall to pee. I finally got it. He needed to “make urine”, and I had been telling him that I don’t drink. It made for a good laugh for all, once we understood.

It's been hard to describe how tight Jose and I got in such a short period of time. I am blessed to have some good friends, but those friendships are based on time, slowly getting to know each other. I talked with what is probably my oldest friend last night about it, and what he shared had a lot of wisdom. His thought was that we all tend to go through life needing more connections and friendships then we often have. When we are forced into a situation were we have to share and trust someone, it is like getting water, and we suddenly realize how dry we are. Even though I consider myself blessed with a number of friends, it was odd to go from not knowing Jose from any stranger on the street to being in a situation where our lives are depending on each other in less than a 24 hour time period time. Like I mentioned, we often shared from our lives before we feel asleep. As tired as we were, after the stress and sadness of the day we still had to unwind each night. There were a lot of personal things we would talk about. While the plan early-on was that when it was time for me to leave I would ride the bus back out to Santo Domingo. From there it would take a whole day to fly back to the states. After working together, I couldn't leave Jose a moment earlier then I absolutely had to. I decided I would take my chances and head to the airport at the last second and try to catch a flight out. What we had seen and gone through was so foreign to what life is like in America that we often talked about who we could share any of this with. Jose's girl friend will be heading down to join him for a bit. I think that will really help him.

More on Haiti (Part 2)

Part One

The next morning we tried looking for gear. After all, I had shown up with medical supplies but nothing for me. Although we hunted for awhile for a sleeping bag or small tent, we had no lucky. Finally, we just decided to cross our fingers and went to a bus station. There we bought two tickets to Port Au Prince for around $50, spent $20 on taxes and border fees, and we were off. Seven plus hours is a long time to spend on a bus even if it did have a bathroom (of sorts), but it gave Jose and I time to talk. It also allowed us to slowly enter the country. The slow immersion into the devastation was kind of like getting into an icy cold pool bit by bit—it really helped. I think flying straight from America to Port Au Prince would have been too much, too fast, and I would have hid in the airport during my entire stay. Don’t get me wrong--- I am not saying that those that have gone and helped at the airport did less. I’m just glad that this is how it worked for me.

We were both scared. The only thing either of us knew about Haiti was what we had seen on the TV. We had seen scene after scene of looters and guys crazy with hunger running around with machetes. Thanks to flight regulations and airport metal detectors I take anything that I might be able to use to defend myself, yet here I was going into a city in chaos. There would be no calling 911 if things went bad.

A short time after we crossed the border we began seeing walls that had fallen over. There were a couple of collapsed buildings, but that far out it was only around one in every ten. The first few collapses we saw, everyone on the bus point, exclaim, and even take a picture.

Soon, we had seen so many collapsed buildings that what we did at first seemed silly. It was getting dark, and both Jose and I knew that it would be quite dark by the time we got to the bus stop. When we arrived it was very , very dark. The city had no working power, so the only lights were from vehicles or fires. Because almost all the shops are gone the people were out on the streets, trying to sell or buy food and other items.

The streets and the driving in Haiti has to be the absolute worst in the world, but I’ll get back to that later. For now, the deeper we got into Port Au Prince, the more nervous we became. A Haitian woman riding on the bus came up and spoke to us. It turns out that she was more than bilinguial – she spoke five different languages. When Jose asked her why she spoke so many, she said that it was so she could tell more people about Jesus. If she had answered any differently, like to say it was because she was smart, we would have never gone with her. It was a great lesson for me on the danger of pride and the importance of being bold about you faith. She asked if we wanted to stay with her family. As we had no better option, we said sure. Getting off the bus, I was extra paranoid. I could picture someone grabbing the bags of medical supplies and booking it, and then we would have nothing. People were pressed tight around the bus, and we were being pushed and touched on all sides. I kept waiting for the feeling of a hand in my pocket, or worse. Jose was on one side of the bus and I was on the other. The luggage was under the bus and we felt certain someone would make a try for it, so we wanted to have as great a chance as possible at apprehending them. Thankfully, we retrieved our gear without any incident and grouped around the girl we had meet. (It felt reallyodd to feel safe because of a skinny girl.) She was traveling with her sister, as well as two others she had talked to on the bus and invited as well. One of the others was a thin British guy who had unkept hair, beard, and clothes. What made him stand out, though, was his relaxed manner. The other was a fiftyish American woman. We grouped together, waiting for our ride to arrive.

After about thirty minutes the car showed up. Like all vehicles in Haiti, it was well loved... in the same way the Velveteen Rabbit was well loved. Twenty minutes of travel later, we arrived at her parents home. Ten of her relatives were staying there, all living there on the ground because everyone in Haiti is afraid to go into a building. Seeing them hugging each other and crying with joy at finding their family members alive allowed me to see them in a different light. They were people just like myself, and not just Haitians that might do me harm because they had been driven crazy with hunger. I walked up to say hello to the family.

I have to admit that I approached them not just out of niceness, but also as a sort of alpha male move in an attempt to let them know that I didn’t feel scared of them. Within five minutes Iwas holding one of a pair of twins that was around a year old. I noticed that the boy had a very bad ear infection so I called Jose over and we got started.

After the child was cared for I asked if I could look around at their home. They didn't want me entering the home, and they did their best to talk me out of it, fearing that it might go down. I got out my flashlight and looked carefully around the outside, but I didn't see any damage. I climbed up on the roof and still saw no damage. I then went into the home, ignoring them as they told me not and checked the inside. Still, no damage. I realized that there were probably a fair number of structures that were quite safe, but the people were all too afraid to sleep under anything.

I came back outside and told the family that it was okay to start living in the home again, but they didn't really buy it. I told them that not only did I believe that their home was safe to sleep in, but that I would bet my life on it. I told them I was going to sleep in the home that very night. Their eyes got wide, and they told me they wouldn't let me. Turning around, I walked inside. They were too afraid to follow, so I slept in one of the rooms.

The inside of the house may have been safe, but it was a mess. Every item in the house was turned over or scattered about because no one had been inside to clean up yet after the quake. Spending the night in the house may have seemed like it was a brave move, but it really wasn’t. It's not that I was brave for going in, it was just that they have never had an earth quake before. They were had no previous experience with a situation like this, and were amazingly ignorant about things we take for granted in the United states (including proper construction). They simply had no way of knowing what was good and what was dangerous.

I awoke around 5:30 to the sound of obnoxiously loud chickens and the women singing Amazing Grace in Creole. Lying there, listening to the chickens and the sweet voices of the women (mixed in with the ever-present horns and all the other sounds that make up the Haiti white noise), I had my first thought that I just might live through this.

Because of what I had seen the night before, I talked with Jose and we came up with a plan. We decided that even though I had several years experience as an EMT my contractor experience would be of better use. He would start seeing people and I would start inspecting structures. The idea was to get as many people off the street as we could in an attempt to cut down on the chance of spreading infections. Before we left and began our journey, the family we were staying with shared some food with us. I couldn’t get myself to eat very much. One main reason was that as I ate, all I could think about was that every bite I take is one I am food I am taking away from someone else. The other reason is that I was worried that I might eat something that would make me sick. I had decided early on that if I started feeling sick I would leave right away so I wasn't a drain on resources by taking up a spot in the airport hospital or slowing Jose down by making him worried about me and keeping him from focusing on the Haitians.

The first day I don't even remember how many places I looked through. I am sure it's the same for Jose with people. He stayed close by the home we were staying at while I had a local with a bit of English who took me from one home to another. If there was lunch, I don't remember it. I can't even remember for sure if it was the first morning or the second, but early on in my stay I realized that something had to be done about my hair. Not only was it very hot, but my I had nothing with which to style it, so I went with the Haitian “fix”.

They took me to a local barber, a friendly man with a pair of clippers powered by a car battery and an inverter. I tried to convey the idea that I just wanted a trim, but I think he really only knew one style.

When he was done, I looked fresh out of boot camp. He also pulled out a razor blade and started shaving me. I have never had someone else shave me in my life, let alone a Haitian with no English. When he had finished, I pointed out that he had missed my mustache. He responded by pointing to all the other men standing around, all of who had mustaches, indicating that I needed one. The interpreter let me know that a man needs a mustache, so I should have one. I shrugged and let it go. From that point forward, anytime I walked by the shop I would wave at the barber, point to my head, and give a thumbs up. I have to admit, it made it a lot easier to stay cool and wash. I am writing this from the plane, so I am looking forward to Sakura's reaction when she sees me. I can't till if I look like I’m in the military of if it looks like I just escaped from a concentration camp.

(Post note: She almost drove by me.)

Living Off the Green Box: Haiti (Part 1)

When I started this site my idea was to share photography ideas. The blog’s name, “Off the Green Box” refers to the default symbol on many cameras that is the 100% automatic setting. The idea was to talk about creative ways to shoot pictures while using some of the custom settings by switching off the green box. I’m not really a writer, so I posted a few times then let it go.

I am writing this now on my phone as I am flying home from Haiti. For the last 11 days my life has been off the green box.

The first few days after the earthquake in Haiti I felt bad for the people, but little more. I mean, I gave money... but it was easy for me to just put the horror out of my mind and go about my day. My week had been busy, and I don’t often watch tv, so I never really took the time to look at what the news was showing and see the haunting images coming out of Haiti. It was sad, but it didn’t really affect me.

About a week and a half after the quake I was talking with a friend who has been struggling with depression. I thought I was being clever when I told him to think about going to Haiti. After all, if he turned his thoughts outward, instead of inwardly focusing on his own struggles, maybe he would start feeling better. When I suggested he email a few groups and see if he got any responses, he responded that he would...and then asked if I would go.

I told him I would pray about it. Telling someone that you’ll “pray about it” is how many Christians will often weasel out of giving a real answer. Who can argue against it?

That night, I watched some of the videos coming out of Haiti for the first time. It was hard to watch dump trucks full of bodies going to mass graves. Later, before falling asleep, I did pray about the matter. I asked God if He wanted me to go to Haiti... and then added that if He did, then I needed Him to make it very clear. If I’m being honest, I didn’t pray because I had any great love for the people. The prayer was really because I wanted a clear conscience after seeing so much need and then not doing anything about it. I fully expected not to get any message from God. After all, oftentimes when I pray it seems as if there is no answer.

The next morning I received a message from a friend I haven't been in contact with for over a year. He wanted to talk about an idea I had had in the past regarding using shipping containers to create quick, cheap structures. He was wondering whether I thought it would work well in Haiti.

Over the next few hours I received more calls from friends… all about Haiti.

You have to understand that up until this point, except for the conversation the previous night with my friend, I hadn’t had a single conversation with Haiti about anyone. I had woken up that morning after the prayer with the thought that there might be something for me to do to help out over there, but I hadn’t mentioned it to anyone. In fact, I hadn't even talked to my wife yet about the possibility of going. I asked one of the friends who had contacted me if he would send out some emails to see if there was even a spot for us, then went about my day like normal. I still didn't think anything would happen.

Fast forward to Friday morning.

I was driving to a Marine base in San Diego to take pictures of a graduation when I got a call. It was my friend letting me know that we could go to Haiti if we wanted. There was a spot for us with a small group from Florida. I didn’t have a single thing ready--- not a passport, or anything, but I told him I wanted to go. I called my wife (Sakura) and asked her to start looking into passport details, then called a couple we know to ask if they could help with Sakura and the kids if I went to Haiti.

By the time I was back from San Diego it was too late to drive up to LA to the Federal building. Still, I pressed forward. Over the weekend I bought tickets (I even paid extra so I could cancel them in case it didn't work out.) I only told a few people about the possibility because I still didn't think it would work out.

Monday morning I drove to LA to try to get my passport--- the day before the deadline. I needed to be in Florida on Tuesday if I was going to go down with the group. I got in line and was given my number to wait. I found a seat in the crowded office only to be called right away--out of the number order. They handed over my paper work and told me it would be ready in two hours. My wife had been told it would take two to three days if I paid extra to rush it. I had tried companies that rush the passport, but they needed 24 hours and I didn't even have that. My flight left at 6:10am on Tuesday. When they handed me my passport, it hit me. This was the first point I really realized that I was going. Up till that point I just thought I had to be willing, but never really expected to be called. I went home stopping at a few spots to buy some gear. I packed that night, got up the next morning at 3, and boarded my plane out of LAX.




Flying out to Florida I had time to stop and think. I didn't know the people I was going down with. I didn't know what their plan was. I didn't know what this would cost, or even where we would stay. I began to wonder just how big of a mistake I had just made, and what kind of story I could tell to make myself look good but would allow me to go home. Maybe I could come up with a story that would get me points for just trying.

Once in Florida I met the first of the group; a young nurse, her only experience was on the cancer floor of a hospital. I had to wonder just how helpful that might be. As I was taking a flight that left early in the morning, I went to sleep rather than stay up and greet the last few people who were flying in.. The next day I left on my own. The others were on a later flight, so I decided to just meet up with them later at the airport in the DR (Dominic Republic.). Without going into negative details, my first impression of the group was not a good one. The entire time that I was traveling that morning I worried about whether I should stay with them. Maybe I could just use their help to get to Port Au Prince and then split off and help at the airport? On the other hand, I had no tent, no sleeping bag and no food because I had been told by the leader of the group I wouldn't need any of that and we would be staying in a hotel. What to do?

Because my flight went through Puerto Rico the group was waiting for me at the airport. There was another guy with them, an American named Jose who is both a paramedic from Wisconsin and a former Marine. He had brought a lot of medical supplies with him.

The group took a taxi from the airport to a hotel and then we all went out to get dinner in Santo Domingo.

Jose and I wanted to know what the plan was, but the rest of the group just wanted to relax and have a few beers. We kept pushing though, and finally the Haitian contact that they were in touch with was brought over and we started talking out our options.

Two hours later nothing had been decided. It was clear to me that the Haitian helper was just using these people. He kept telling them it would cost $1000 US dollars to get us into Haiti. Of course, getting us out there would be more costs... and naturally there would be other costs along the way. While a thousand dollars may seem reasonable in the United States, $1000 in the Dominican Republic will buy you a truck. To make it worse, even now that we were therein the Dominican Republic the group still couldn’t tell us what we would actually be doing to help out in Haiti. It seemed like only Jose and I thought it was a bad idea. Leaning over to Jose, I let him know in a quiet voice that I wanted to split from the group and offered to help him with his extra gear if we wanted to try to travel in together. He was for it, so the two of us stood up, said “nice meeting you” and left. We got our own motel for the night and turned in. We still weren’t sure what our new plan was, but one thing was sure: we could do better then the first group.