Shannon's Queerest Space

Promoting Genderqueer, Transgender, Youth Rights, Social Justice, and Other Radicalness Since 1999

In/At Saut d'Eau, January 1993

I won't repeat the details about how and why i was in Haiti. See my other related photo for that explanation.

As during my previous trip, in 1992/1993 i worked most mornings with children in one of the hospices run by the Sisters of Charity. Unlike the first time i went to Haïti, however, i didn't spend all my afternoons crashed out in bed, returning to the hospice, or playing with the kids in our residence. For most of our stay there, i and several other people went every afternoon to Port-au-Prince's Hôpital Générale where we worked with about a dozen severely neglected children who had been abandoned by their parents for various reasons: epilepsy, cerebral palsy, retardation, and blindness (all combined with poverty), to name a few. Having no relatives to watch over them, the children were subsequently abandoned by the hospital, which relegated them to a dark room in the back of the complex where a staff member would go once a day to change diapers and feed them. Aside from those few moments, they had virtually no human contact either with others or, being confined to beds, with themselves.

As a result, we found these children in a deplorable state. Despite the fact that they ranged in age from one to fifteen years old, none talked, and only three could walk. They interacted with no one -- neither us nor each other. They rarely made eye contact or responded to verbal or physical stimulation. They were sick; one girl had such severe malaria that she died shortly after we left the country. Some had muscles so atrophied that they were unable to move their arms or legs. They barely existed.

We spent our afternoons with them, hugging and holding them, playing "peek-a-boo," getting them out of their cribs, exercising their tightly curled limbs, singing in English and French, changing diapers, feeding them, and loving them as much as we could. By the time we returned to the States, most of those children were starting to live. Their faces brightened every time we entered the room. They laughed and smiled. They loved being touched and kissed and tickled. Those who were the most physically able interacted with each other constantly. They were becoming kids. It was the most remarkable transformation i had -- and have since -- ever seen.

One two-year-old boy was newly-abandoned while we worked there, and no one knew his history. The wonderful nun who worked with the children asked me to give him a name, a process that filled me with as much awe and wonderment as i had ever experienced. Never before had i gotten to name another human being. Nor had i seen a child take hir first steps. I left a piece of my heart in Haiti with him -- and with all those children. Watching them blossom is an experience that will stay with me forever. And i'll always wonder what happened to all of them in the political turmoil that followed. Did they all end up in the group home that was in the works when we left? Does the boy i named still bare the name i gave him? Is he -- are any of them -- still alive? I'm sure i'll never know, which only makes me long for them more. Cliché though it probably sounds, each of them will always remain a part of my very being....



For a total change of pace, the picture above was taken at Saut d'Eau (French for "waterfall" and pronounced "soh doh"), where the Virgin Mary was supposedly sited years ago. It is a place of pilgrimage for Haïtians of both Catholic and Voodoo belief (and just about everyone in Haïti falls into both those categories simultaneously). That out-trip was a great break from the intensity of our experiences in Port-au-Prince. Just as i will never forget "our" children at Hôpital Générale, i'll always remember the feeling of the cool water cascading down my dusty, tired body. It was wonderful! Below is the journal entry i wrote about our trip to Saut d'Eau. It's a long one but, in my humble opinion, well worth the read.

[Initials are substituted for the names of everyone who has not given me express permission to talk about them on my website.]



 Monday, 4 January 1993

*[...]11:15[am]* Back after a nap. Now to write about yesterday. We were supposed to leave here around 8:00[am] but A. showed up late, so we headed out about 8:45, bedded down in A.'s pickup with all our stuff and pillows. On our way to get gas, A. decided that his truck couldn't make the trip because it was sitting too close to the ground and the muffler would've broken. So we stopped at a gas station and waited around while A. found 3 men to drive us in a huge open-back truck. In the interim, i got some people pictures which'll hopefully turn out well. One man tried to sell me a newspaper and i responded with the usual <>. ["No, thank you."] He got offended and started raising his voice at me in Creole. I judged it unwise to tell him that i spoke French and just gave him a blank look (or one that i hoped was blank). I still have no idea what i did to insult him so much. I don't think i said <> any different to him than i do to anyone else who tries to sell us things. Oh well. Maybe he was just having a hard morning. It was definitely an interesting encounter.

Riding in the truck was a lot of fun. We were up really high and stood up for most of the way. It made me feel very happy at first to feel the breeze in my hair and on my face and to be able to watch all the people and scenery. (Later on, there was little breeze because we had to go so slowly.) The truck stopped for gas on our way out of Port-au-Prince and then we hit the road. We left the first gas station at 9:40 and the one where we actually got gas at about 10:00.

The ride out was beautiful. The mountains are so unlike the Rockies or Appalachians. The ones here are so dry and barren. The ones right outside Port-au-Prince are covered with white rocks and boulders and look so incredibly barren. It kind of reminded me of what i picture parts of the southwest US looking like. There were even cacti. And the lack of trees is so sad. The incredible environmental disaster that is Haiti always amazes me. To think that this used to be a rainforest. And now it's so different. As i watched the mountains we drove through, i tried to imagine monkeys swinging through trees, army ants on the ground, snakes slithering through a blanket of leaves, everything moist and fertile, and i found it impossible to associate those images with what i saw before me. Bare, brown, treeless mountains that are literally being washed away. And yet the destruction that is occurring is so inextricably linked with the peasants' [sic] economic life. How can someone end this cycle? [By contrast,] I was so impressed with the town of Saut d'Eau. It was incredibly beautiful, lush, and green. I even saw a yard with grass. There are so many trees there. The people are planting crops everywhere. Granted, they have access to lots of water, but they've really got it working for them. They're irrigating everything. After a 5 hour ride over the harsh, barren mountains, Saut d'Eau seemed like an oasis in a desert.

I was amazed at the difference between rural and urban poverty, too. This was really my first close look at the Haitian countryside (i don't count Fon-Dwa [sic] since i was so miserable for that out-trip). I don't know quite how to compare rural to urban poverty or even how to begin to explain the latter. The people live in little huts [sic], most with thatched roofs (i speak, of course, only of the small area of Haiti that i saw) that are painted bright colors in some areas -- blue, green, pink, red, orange, white. They really look quite cheerful. I had expected to see total and utter squalor, but i didn't. (But i didn't go inside any homes, either.) The people are definitely very impoverished, but they don't live in squalor. Very few that i saw appear to be as malnourished and bloated as the children in Port-au-Prince are. Maybe the fact that they grow their own food assures them access to at least some nutrients. I don't think i have words to describe what i saw in relation to city poverty. I need to read up on this and/or discuss it with someone.

I was delighted at the children's reaction to us wherever we went. Everyone stared at us and the youngest children would shriek <> ["Whites!"] when they saw us and come running for a closer look. They absolutely beamed when we waved at them. Once, on our way back, our truck got stuck in the mud [and we had to get off the truck] (yes, i'm serious. it does happen in real life. and the men even had to push to get it out.). Well, we were right in the middle of a farming community, and all the children came running. When i turned around and noticed them, i said <> ["Good evening"] and took a step closer. I got quite an unexpected reaction -- the boys gasped and the two girls shrieked, laughed, and everybody backed up. Well, i got the hint and didn't come any closer. I tried to ask one girl her name but she wouldn't answer. She only giggled and looked shy and slightly taken aback. I couldn't believe it. I hesitate to say they were actually scared of me, but it was something close to it. We were probably one of the first whites they'd ever seen. One of the boys asked me something and i explained to him that i didn't understand. (<> ["I don't understand. I only speak a little tiny bit of Creole."]) Well, he got great pleasure out of repeating that to his friends. (<
  • >) We stood there smiling at each other for a couple minutes. I was desperately trying to figure out how to bridge the gap (both physical and mental) between us. I held out my hand to the girl who had refused to tell me her name (or who had been unable to), hoping she'd venture over to take it. However, they misinterpreted my gesture as something having to do with money and one of the boys asked me if i had any. I was just beginning to explain to them that i didn't (<>) when K. interrupted me to point to the now free truck. So i had to go. I really wanted to stay, though, and close that chasm that existed between us. I had a wonderful time talking with them. I waved goodbye to them as we drove off and felt very happy, if a little confused at their reactions to me.


    • We got stopped 3 times on the way to Saut d'Eau at military checkpoints. At the first one, they checked our passports, but didn't give us too much hassle at the other 2. I was the first to be compared to my passport photo at the first stop (a stretch since it was taken 5 years ago and expires in April) and i went back to the truck to relieve P. of watching the bags. 4 boys had followed me on the way back to the truck. I did the same routine with them -- <> ["How are you? I don't understand. I don't speak Creole."] They asked me to take their picture since my camera was around my neck.

    After we left there, we continued on. It was getting pretty hot and the road was getting pretty rough. It amazes me how long it takes to get anywhere here. Haiti is the size of Maryland and A. said he thought it would take 12 hours to drive from Port-au-Prince to the Dominican/Haitian border. Granted, there are no mountains, which definitely slow things down, in Maryland, but the roads [in Haiti] are horrendous -- potholes everywhere, hairpin turns. It's impossible to go above a few miles an hour in some places. A.'s truck definitely couldn't have done it. And as much as i hate Haitian drivers in Port-au-Prince, i have to say that it takes some serious skill to manoeuver [sic] your way over country roads here. It was easier to stand up on the truck and cling to the bars than to sit down and get jossled [sic] all over the place. And i thought it was difficult to keep my balance on a subway.

    We finally arrived in the town of Saut d'Eau and had to stop at a church first to see some priest whose parish was adopted by [...a Catholic church in St. Louis] 2 years ago. Well, by th[e] time we got to that point, everybody's tempers were a little thin and no one really wanted to do it. I kept telling myself to be patient and that this is one of those cultural things one has to do. That only took about 15 minutes and, after a debate over how far it was, [we] headed to the waterfall by truck.

    *4:05pm* Back from an unsuccessful trip to Delmas 91 [a street in Port-au-Prince] to get mail. No one in our group is getting any mail. It's really strange. With 23 people here, someone should be getting something. Maybe tomorrow.

    Back to yesterday -- -- -- --. We rode for about 15 minutes and got off the truck to walk. I was, as i've mentioned, quite impressed by the village itself. We walked around the top of the falls and came around to the bottom. It was beautiful. Not as big as i thought it would be. But absolutely gorgeous. I felt like i was in Hawaii or something. I took lots of pictures (and broke the camera). Being in the water was wonderful. We were all hot and sweaty and dusty from the ride, plus, i hadn't taken a shower in a few days. I finally decided to get totally wet but didn't take off the camera first. P. took it from me and then i went back under the falls. It was wonderful -- cold and wet and clean (well, relatively). I had to keep myself from drinking it because the water that naturally got in my mouth tasted so good. But i didn't want diarrhea. I climbed over the rocks and was quite surprised that they weren't slippery. They were quite rough, actually. It made it much easier to walk on. I really enjoyed the falls. It was totally worth the hellish 5 hour ride there.

    We didn't get to spend too much time there because we had to head back. I was ready in that i felt quite refreshed. The ride back wasn't nearly as bad. We got stuck in the mud first, as i have already related. Then about 10 minutes later, the truck stopped and the driver got out and walked off. We all wondered what was happening. So A. got out and talked to them. It ended up that they wanted the balance of their payment then and not when we got back to Port-au-Prince. A. got upset and there was a disagreement over the agreement about when they were supposed to get paid. Well, they went back and forth for a while, and the people watching us found it quite, as C. put it, "hysterical." I guess we were quite a sight -- 7 Americans in the back of a truck with their interpreter/guide yelling at/with the drivers. They had us in a bind, too. We were at least 3-4 hours from Port-au-Prince so we couldn't just get off and walk. K. finally gave in and we paid them the remaining $120 or so, praying they would actually take us to Port-au-Prince.

    We stopped 2 more times on the way back, both to get more passengers. Some people in our group got upset at this since we had rented the truck. I personally didn't have a problem with it. After all, most open back trucks are jammed full of people and i had been feeling really bad about us having a whole truck to ourselves. The second stop, however, A. got really upset, jumped off the truck, and started yelling at the driver. He [A.] even stood in front of the truck at one point. He finally gave up and got back on the truck, although i'm sure he was absolutely seething.

    So we had a few tense moments, but finally arrived back in Port-au-Prince about 8:30 or so. It took us 5 hours to get to Saut d'Eau and 4 to get back. I'm not sure why there was such a difference. We had only one checkpoint stop on the way back and no churches to visit, but i'm sure we made up that time by digging the truck out of the mud and arguing. Whatever. No complaints from me. The ride didn't seem as long, either, because we were refreshed and cool (it was dark most of the ride).