In Piyon

We are here, settled in Piyon, where this friendly blanc set us up with wireles sinternet on Megan's laptop, which is especially nice of him.

We made it back safely from the Dominican Republic after being grabbed this way and that on the Haiti side of the border. We finally had to jump on a motorcycle and get out of the mess. But we mad eit back to Twodino where we spent two more days before hitting the whiplash backbreaking road to Piyon.

In Piyon, we are staying in this religious brain washing camp that makes really good canned corn.

As requested, here are some more pictures.


This is a fisherman who just came out with his catch. We walked to the coast from our hotel only to find that only fishermen hang out there so we had to coger un taxi to swim.

Another picture of the beach. We had the best Bacalao to this little beach cafe. I can't get enough now. Though I can't find it in Haiti either. So I guess its back to goat.

This is Megan with Mari, the duena of our hotel who took us shopping our first day and showed us where we could use the internet. This picture is taken in our new outfits before we went out dancing.

Ok! Now that I have internet I hope I can share more pictures.

Love!

The end of rest

We´re going to Piyon next! That is, of course, after we attempt to cross back into Haiti. I probably won´t have internet or phone and I can´t get the pictures online because I´m at a public internet cafe and I´m very tired from being in the sun all day. What and intereting blog, huh. Oh, also, I can´t find the question mark.

I´m sorry this can´t be more interesting, but my time is running out. More later.

Crossing the Border

So, after days without internet in Twodino, entering tons of information, Megan, who is a friend from Fordham and working with me in Haiti decided to do what a number of Haitians do every day to work and shop and live: we crossed the border into the Dominican Republic. And let me tell you, its not as friendly as one would have expected. Wink wink.

We crossed today, Friday, market day, where hundreds of Haitian citizens go to and from buying things from the DR and bringing them back to sell in Haiti (many with loans from Fonkoze). We drove to the border town, Ouanamente, with the help of our new friend Father Hughes, the priest who resides at the parish where we are staying. After he heard the children's confession he took us to the border.

When we arrived we saw a number of people organized into a coming and going line by the UN troops from Uraguay freely crossing into the DR without any sort of passport check or immigration. So, we thought, this should be easy, right? Wrong. The Haitian police immidiately saw our "white" skin and clothes and decided to pull us aside. There we had to go through an immigration process (which took a while because the officers were on lunch break when we arrived) and then have our bag searched by the seediest man who I think just wanted to feel our underwear. On top of all that, they wouldn't let our priest friend cross with us because he said he was coming with us, not that he was there to shop like the rest of the Haitians. Fiasco.

And then I think, what do people have to go through to come to the US and I realize I have it easy.

We finally got across and was aided by a Dominican immigration officer who took us to the bus station. Everyone else hear has been really nice, taking us around. Don't tell my Dad this (as he reads this), but we didn't have a hotel arranged when we arrived so the cab driver had to take us to one. But we're ok, being taken around the city by the hotel owner who is this really nice mother of two. We have been shopping and we're going dancing tonight.

I'm sorry I have no pictures. Hopefully I will soon.

Until then!

Gwomon

The view from our guest house.

Hello from the most gorgeous space on the planet!

We made it to Gwomon to find that we had another 4,000 files to tackle, but that did not worry us too much. The group I'm with has being such high spirits the entire time we've been here. We're situated in this gorgeous little town, where its safe enough to walk to work everyday. We are staying at a guest house, run by a couple of nuns, which is the worst part about being here.

The nuns with whom we are staying pretty much run the town in terms of charity work, including water sanitation programs and schools. However, they are not the most welcoming of people. They live in a very gated and heavily guarded place where, I think, the dogs are trained to bark at black people. The other horrible part is the Irish and American people who are also volunteering here. The Irish dress in such scandalous clothes that a Fonkoze branch employee told us to say something to them because they were ruining the children of Haiti. I mean its hot here, but not that hot. In terms of the Americans,vthere nice and all, just conservative religious republicans.

But, as I said before, this place is the most beautiful place ever. The river cuts through the mountains in such a picturesque way that you could swear you were in a movie.

The people here are different than in Gonayiv. You know these people have had their share of volunteers in the area. You can tell by the way they react to "blan" people walking down the street. You smile and say hello and the first thing they say is "I'm hungry". Here you can see a definite culture of giving from foreigners, but a lack of actual action and purposeful change.

We have met some friends, however. A cashier from the bank, Jacques Allen, took us to the river where we swam and played with the kids. It was a great Sunday. Also, we have a little friend, Valencia, who lives across the street from us. We took her with us to the river and it seemed like she had fun. I'm teaching her English, at which I'm horrible, but I try.

Valencia at the river

I think everyone is more happy here in terms of the work we're doing. Though our living arragements are a little unwelcoming, at least we have internet!

We're finally leaving

So after a long and tiring time in Gonayiv, we finally got the go ahead to leave this city even though we are not quite done entering all of the files. Our project manager, Christie, sensing that we needed to leave or else we were going to pull out each others hair and smash the computers to the ground arranged for use to move on. Plus I sent her an email saying we were going to rebel if we didn't leave here soon.



So we are separating. Three people per group, two cities each, before we return to Port au Prince.

I have been to Port au Prince before so I've seen things like trash in the streets, stagnant water lining the sidewalks and dust flying in the air. I thought Port au Prince was the worst, but I have changed my mind.

Gonayiv has had a rough couple of years with the rebellions and the hurricane. After the hurricane, Fonkoze offered loans at no interest to the people here to help them build back their businesses that were lost and you can see people working and selling food and goods on the streets, people who have some sort of livelihood, but for some reason, I can not stand this city.

I think part of it has to do with the lack of human contact. When we were in Port au Prince the last time I was here, we spent everyday with the kids at the orphanage and the women at the hospice. We got to establish some sort of human connection with actual people. Here, now, all we do is drive from the hotel to the office to the restaurant and then back to the hotel. The only people we speak to are each other and the branch manager to ask for more files. This could be part of the reason why were all going so crazy. There is no break from the monotony of our surroundings or each other.

Hopefully things will change when we move on. At least I hope they will. The place where we are staying in Gwomon is within walking distance of the branch so perhaps we will get to experience the city more.

I will not have internet there unless I find a cybercafé. So until then!

Brazilians

Yesterday, thank the lord, we got a day off to go to the beach. We went to the exact same beach club that I went to freshman year with the GO Haiti team. Back then, there was no one there except my team and this other couple. We had the entire place to ourselves. This time, however, as we entered the lobby and looked out over the pool, all we could see were tan men in speedos. Christie, one of the girls we are with swore it was a gay retreat. Turns out, the United Nations mission in Haiti, which consists mostly of Brazilian soldiers, had their day off at the same beach club. No body ever told me how attractive Brazilians were! I'm thinking of ditching Creole and picking up Portuguese.

They were really nice and very gentlemanly. They taught us how to dance and when asked what they do they suddenly got a serious look on their faces and said "we're peace keepers". Before meeting them, we would see the UN trucks drive by, laden with guns, through a seemingly peaceful village. All of us were disgusted by the intimidation that the UN seemed to have on this country.

After meeting them, though I still think they're attractive, I still can't see why they are here. They don't know a word of Creole or French, they take five days of a month to go to the beach, and they never leave their barracks in Port au Prince except to go to the beach and ride around in their oversized white trucks.

Still, we're all enamored.