Haiti Snapshot #2 - Juxtapositons

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As the plane began to prepare for its descent into Port au Prince I pressed my face up against the small plastic oval of a window and scanned for signs of the havoc that the notorious January earthquake had wreaked on this fragile city. From the air what was mostly visible was a landscape dotted with dwellings, lush flowering trees and snakey dirt roads. As the land drew closer, however, many of those dwellings revealed themselves to be acres of tents, and the piles of rubble were more apparent. Inside Baggage Claim, the scent of diesel fumes mixed with dust quickly reminds me that I am in another world.

Right outside of the airport is where many people in their tent-cities currently reside, and as we casually drove by I was astonished at the number. In truth, Port au Prince resembles more of a war-zone like Kosovo or Baghdad. Fallen walls have crushed cars. There are piles of rubble that line the street. Some buildings are standing, but jut out at odd 45-degree angles reminding you that things are not as they seem. The presidential palace, the symbol of hard-earned hope and freedom for the proud Haitians is now a concave behemoth, a symbolic testament to the enormity of the effect that the earthquake has had on this fragile country.

Yet, in front of this somber backdrop, vital signs of life juxtapose themselves with the tragedy that is seen everywhere. Joyful pops of color can be found on everything from the tap-taps and mini-busses, to the Digicel umbrellas, to the works of art that adorn a concrete wall, and the lively political graffiti on every blank meter of concrete, reminding you that the spirit is not broken.

People bustle about, avoiding the broken pieces of the road amidst the hum and honks of the traffic. Demonstrators celebrate the birthday of deposed President Aristide in front of the presidential palace, which is kitty-corner to the completely toppled Holy Trinity Anglican church. Everyone largely agrees that these demonstrators must have been paid to do this. Uniformed school children walk home in groups, making up for school time lost in January and February.

In a rented van, our group begins our ascent into the mountains above Port au Prince, Petion-ville, where the shocks were also felt. The lush canopy of banana trees, palm trees, and other vegetation masks the demolition that has happened here, too. Many churches and homes built into the hillside couldn’t withstand the tremors and tumbled down. Many people are making-do in donated tents, but the rainy season that is now upon us threatens this existence as well.

In Petion-ville, our hosts inform us that the view of the valley below was where hundreds of sugar-cane plantations once were. They show us the heavily rusted iron neck chain that was found in the garden, and most assuredly was worn long-ago by a slave who escaped to these very hills.

That evening, our hosts, some Americans whose hearts have turned Haitian and a few their local friends generously share with us the gift of hospitality and song: their belief in Haiti and their hope for its future.