Well hey there. This is my first post from Haiti. I don't have any pictures I can post yet, but rest assured I will post some soon.
We landed in Port-au-Prince at around 4:30 on Thursday. Flying over Haiti was like flying over a different planet- so much of it is dry and brown but occasionally there was a burst of unexpected green, and the rivers wind around the landscape like pale snakes. The mountains have an odd appearance from above, as if someone took thick brown yarn and let it settle into a haphazard pile.
As soon as we stepped off the plane, we were greeted by a band of maybe six men playing Haitian kompa music, bongo drums and tambourines and something that resembled an accordian, among other instruments.
We were then ushered into a small room with no windows (!) where we surrendered our passports and waited. None of us were really sure what was happening, but eventually we were brought out and escorted out of the terminal.
As soon as we walked out, we were accosted by people who waved their hands in our faces and asked if we were American, Ameriken, wi? Wi, mwen se Ameriken. Don't make eye contact, we were told by our escort. Don't say anything, just keep walking. Gripping our bags and trying to look inconspicuous (like that was possible), we walked to a VIP section of the parking lot that was surrounded by fencing topped with barbed wire.
There we met our wonderful friends A and C, who are also our sponsors (sponsors are responsible for making sure new arrivals get settled in their new houses, taken for tours of the embassy, taken to the grocery store, etc). Our nine suitcases were wedged in the back of one large van and we were wedged in another, and we were off.
This part is difficult to describe- not so much that the sights were sad or scary, just hard to describe in general. First thing about Haiti is the heat. It clings to you like a skin, worms its way into your nose and mouth until you're almost gasping. The air is a little acrid with the odour of burning garbage and has a hazy quality to it. The whole time we were on the airport road, the dust was billowing and there was so much to see. Women carrying plastic laundry baskets on their heads. Children running barefoot. An ox, chewing what little grass it could find in a ditch next to the road. Motorbikes weaving between large dusty vans, the mention of which leads me to the second thing about Haiti: there are basically no traffic laws. Sure, there's stop signs and occasionally a traffic light, but people weave in and out without any concern for safety.
Graffiti covers the stone walls that line the road. "So and so for President" was a common theme, the only variation was which name was inserted.
Brightly coloured trucks called Tap Tap are one of the forms of public transportation that we're forbidden from using. Onto the backs of these trucks that are often painted in primary colours and sometimes with pictures of Jesus, people cram themselves, somehow magically fitting what looks like ten people where four would be a tight squeeze.
We arrived at our house around 5:15, 5:30 and the first thing I noticed was that there is a tree protruding from our driveway. Not just any old tree, either- this is a mango tree. It's fantastic, even though none of the fruit is ripe yet. We did some unpacking, then went to our neighbour's house for dinner. It was surprisingly normal, and every now and again I had to remind myself where I was.
Today we toured the embassy (it's beautiful) and got our internet set up. Our sponsor C took us to a restaurant right outside the embassy called The Daily for breakfast. Mom and I had oatmeal which turned out more like porridge. I also had fresh sqeezed passionfruit juice- YUM. The fruit and veggies here are cheap and easy to come by: avocadoes, papayas, tomatoes, passionfruit, and my favourite, mangoes.
When I've had more time to adjust and get a feel for this country, I will post more. Hopefully I'll be able to describe it better next time!
Love and mangoes,
Soph
P.S. To be embarrassingly honest, I had to look up the plural form of mango. Mangos doesn't seem right but neither does mangoes. It is, in fact, the latter.
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