Abstract: Haitian Studies Association Conference at Brown University - Nov. 11-13

Environmental Initiatives on the Community Level: The Case of Borgne, Haiti

In examining the opportunities that lie within the larger context of Haitian reconstruction efforts, mending the strained environment upon which Haiti’s fragile rural agricultural sector depends must be a priority. Though related to other pieces of the Haitian reconstruction puzzle, the question of mending the Haitian environment comes down largely to the best way trees can be incorporated into Haiti’s existing agricultural systems. It can safely be assumed that just as thousands of trees have been planted in Haiti in the past, thousands more will be planted in the future by NGOs, International Organizations and perhaps even Haitian government agencies.

While the decades long absence of any kind of positive and stable government presence has created a “republic of foreign NGOs” that provide the bulk of Haiti’s essential services, it has also had lasting and potentially positive impact on rural civil society. Though born out of a need to overcome challenges in the absence of government help, the presence of dynamic community level organizations in Haiti presents the opportunity for both governmental and nongovernmental organizations to engage and reflect a more appropriate approach to reconstruction and development initiatives in Haiti. Though “grassroots” in itself has become a controversial buzzword on the development scene, it is evident that rural Haitians are both willing and capable of mobilizing themselves toward a cause (Smith 2001). It is of little surprise then that some of these organizations have moved beyond the often cited “konbit” (a Kreyòl word describing collective farm work) to larger endeavors—such as tree planting, environmental education and erosion control.

The importance of the post-earthquake opportunity for a paradigm shift cannot be overstated as engaging rural community organizations in reconstruction efforts would represent bypassing the rigid stratum that have long plagued Haitian society and historically hindered development. The purpose of this paper then is to examine and assess the unique environmental initiatives undertaken by the community organizations of Borgne: the Movement for the Integral Development of Borgne and the Gwoupman Peasant Organization of Kot de Fer. These organizations have mobilized toward environmental development through the construction of nurseries that provide trees to community plot holders, the systematic monitoring of those trees provided by the organizations and educational sessions for community members on how to prevent further damage to their land.

Beyond an ethnographic assessment, the primary question to be answered in this paper is whether the model incorporated by the organizations of Borgne may be successfully scaled up to other communities throughout rural Haiti. Further, how can this important work in environmental reconstruction and development be supported by other development entities both governmental and nongovernmental?

Field research will be completed in June and July 2010 and will use multiple research methodologies. The primary methods to be employed in data collection will be Participatory Action Research, semi-structured interviewing and limited surveying.

This presentation will be an interactive lecture that will invite some audience participation and will use a Powerpoint presentation as a visual aid to present photos, diagrams and statistics.

References:

Smith, Jennie M. When the Hands are Many. Ithaca, New York. Cornell University Press, 2001.

Abstract: Given the desperate need to mend Haiti’s environment, which has been struggling for decades under the pressures of a burgeoning population, this presentation will examine the environmental initiatives of the community organizations of Borgne, Haiti, and their potential as a model for future environmental reconstruction and development initiatives.

Avoid Grocery Stores.

So here I am. Finally bringing myself to write about my most recent time in Haiti. I could kid myself, lie to you, and say that I was busy (which I guess I was) but a lesson I’m learning is that busyness is often an illusion. We can always make time. The truth is that I’ve been avoiding pounding these keys for quite some time. In the weeks since I’ve been back, I’ve been searching for a way to communicate my thoughts on the adjustment period. By “adjustment period” I mean the whirling dervish of emotions that a Westerner typically feels after staying in a rural area in a “developing” country. Though I despise the use of this term because of the distance it creates and dismissal it permits, there is a reason someone came up with this whole “third world-first world” analogy. It’s only an hour and a half flight but the distance that is described in the term I Just mentioned is not to be taken lightly. I would love to pretend I’m strong and experienced and I’ve perfected moving between those “worlds” with ease. But if I were peachy-keen and if “Haiti was great” it would mean that I’d lost the reason I were travelling there in the first place.

And while this transition is decidedly difficult, there is an intangible beauty in this process that must be respected. A few months after returning from Haiti the first time in 2007, I remember scribbling “and again I am an enlightened soul” next to a quote at the start of one of the chapters of Dr. Paul Farmer’s “The Uses of Haiti.” It seemed the childish note of a first time traveler but I realize now I was paying tribute to Farmer’s ability to describe this phenomenon. Upon return there is a feeling of negative enlightenment, like you know something everyone else around you does not. Though you might try hard to fall back into routine, you have to be prepared that at any moment the reality of the other side of the water can gut you raw. This reality is heavy and strong and rude, but walks quietly on soft feet, saving its sick sense of humor for the most inopportune moments. It might jump out of your cup of coffee or hit you as you overhear conversations while walking to work. You’ll never outsmart it or pull it out of hiding, all you can do is appreciate it—and one more thing, avoid grocery stores.

More to come.

Practicum: Baby Grapefruit Trees

These are the photos of the mostly grapefruit trees (I threw a juice orange seed in one container--I guess I was feeling reckless one night) that were previously discussed in this entry: http://treesforhaiti.blogspot.com/2010/04/grapefruit-development-complex.html

I've since moved them from their cozy spot in my windowsill to my friends balcony. As you can see they need to be replanted into larger, individual containers that have some kind of drainage (nothing fancy, just a little American ingenuity--and by that I likely mean holes punched with a knife)....

In the container above there are actually two plants growing together as I put two seeds in thinking one had gone dormant...they've been growing together so we'll see what happens!

In the tin can there are actually three plants growing, two in the center and one on the side (which is the tallest one)...they're looking good with the rain still on their leaves from the night before!

Been busy, more soon....

Greatest Goal in US Soccer History: Scored by a Haitian Immigrant

ESPNs Outside the lines explores the greatest goal in US Soccer history and the tragic fate of the Haitian immigrant who scored it.

The Earthquake and Repatriation

It wasn’t too long after we arrived that the question of “adjustment” and “returning” began to emerge in conversations. To me this can be summed up in one situation. Typically when someone takes a trip somewhere, we ask “How was xyz place?” and the traveler responds with a “Great, we had a good time and the weather was nice” or a “Good. It was fun.” Given the typical question and response, what do you say when someone asks you: “How was Haiti?” For me forming the appropriate response to this question was the task at hand. I talked at length about it with Jack and Andre, recalling the difficulty I had the previous June when I returned from a week in Hinche. Having already been exposed to so much, the difficulty this time was only compounded by the tragic events of January 12.

We’d been having a lazy day as the damp air and rain kept us from going anywhere. Jack and I weren’t feeling too good were just hanging around, lying on our beds. Andrew was around too, working on his journal and listening to music. Afternoon turned to evening. Hearing some strange yelling, Andre and I went out to the balcony to investigate some woman calling for Sasha. She looked American and was with a group of several young Haitian boys. She seemed distant and while Andrew and I commented on her strange demeanor (we thought she’d been huffing paint thinner like the street kids often do), it suddenly felt as if someone was moving the entire balcony. I remember seeing the puddles in the street rippling before I realized what was going on. An earthquake? We woke Jack up but he didn’t seem to alarmed—California boy. The three of us ran out of the still shaking house. We passed Ti Paul in the doorway. “What’s going on he said?” “Earthquake” we said. “We’re screwed” he responded. We were confused and continued outside. People were standing outside up and down the street. The shaking had stopped. A few of Ti Paul’s colleagues from Oxfam were there and were laughing, asking us if we’d ever experienced an earthquake before. We shrugged no and I asked them if they’d ever experienced one. They said “Yes” and were laughing, asking if we were scared. We were, I thought it was pretty clear. I forced a smile but I could feel something wasn’t right. After a while things calmed down. We went upstairs to the kitchen and Marcorel was listening to the radio with Rosie. Sasha was calm, joking about her attire—a large blue dress that she’d received as a birthday present. An aftershock hit—you could see the water shaking in the 5 gallon bottle on the table. I’m not sure when exactly we found out just how bad it was in Port-au-Prince. Everyone was nervous and trying to get in touch with their families. We ran all over town, trying to find out about Moise as there was word that the senate building had collapsed. It’s really a blur. Tony was so upset and couldn’t stop crying. He was worried about Moise. I tried to comfort him with a hug and refrains “Nou pa konnen.” I meant that we didn’t know if Moise was injured or not. We found out later he was okay. Marcorel and I went to buy a case of beer, what else could we do? We thought. Rose, Marc and I toasted with a Prestige, “Nou la.” I’m not sure when things calmed down but for the purposes of this post, the question of “How was Haiti?” suddenly got a hell of a lot more difficult.

We returned to the US not sure what to expect. I hated leaving if for no other reason that as “blans” we could just pack up and leave. We left not knowing whose families were alive, what exactly was going on in P-au-P and how we could help, if at all, from the States. It wasn’t about us or our experience, and yet it seemed we were the focus. I hated it. We got emails from counseling services about dealing with the “trauma.” I got calls from my school newspaper and even from Newark’s Star Ledger. Didn’t they understand how far away from everything we were? At the advice of my friend Vance I worked to develop a balance—“It’s an opportunity to tell the story of Haiti” he reminded me. I put together some kind of essay that explained SOILs work and how important it was in the context of Haiti—both pre and post earthquake—and sent it to my family and friends. I figured it was the best way I could help—though it’s an idea that I’m still struggling with.

January 5 - a more typical day...

In keeping with a solid mix of entries, I want to include one of our more typical days. January 5 was the day after we arrived in Cap-Haitien.

After a restful and rock hard sleep, we woke up and enjoyed a wonderful breakfast. The bananas and bread were fresh and the coffee was delicious. Taking advantage of the sunshine, we piled into the SOIL truck and headed out to the technology center in Milot. After one of the nice but bumpy rides that characterize Haitian transportation, we dismounted outside of a group houses. We were welcomed by an old dell computer and a smiling gentleman who was working very hard carving a large toilet basin out of clay. I stood amazed as Sasha and Sarah explained the various designs and materials that were used in the production of the toilet bowl. The clay could be found locally. Surely they could have imported toilet bowls from the US, but this was an ethical operation that was not just about providing a toilet but also about empowering communities. Leaving the man to his work, Sasha showed us the toilet out back. We took turns stepping inside the toilet and having a look around. I was blown away at the simple yet brilliant innovation. It was as if the cycle was complete: food went from the field, to the human stomach, to the toilet, to the compost heap and back onto the field to enrich the next round of crops. To examine this cycle in its totality, we walked to an additional compost site and through the local fields and gardens. I noted the presence of banana trees through the potato plots…was this planned or by happenstance? I didn’t have too long to think as we continued our jaunt through the community to a dense plot of trees. How refreshing to see veritable forest in Haiti! Internally, I beamed with excitement and began my own mental journey through history—imagining the entire island covered with lush forest. This intellectual indulgence only continued with our arrival at a massive tree which was rumored to have been around since before the revolution. Sasha explained the role of the tree and its giant roots as a political meeting place, but the presence of pots around the base of the tree also had other religious implications. I began to get the eeriest sense and recalled Amy Wilentz’s commentary about Haitians being a people that “walk in history.” The local fellow who was walking us around led everyone over to a large hollow tree, to whom he spoke or prayed loudly. Hanging in back with a few of the SOL gang, I asked them if there were in “lwa” around and they just smiled and laughed. “Is he talking to Bondye?” I asked. They laughed again. Our conversation continued and I joked with them that I wasn’t going into any tree you had to talk to, especially considering how close we were to Bwa Kayiman. “You know your history!” they said to me through their laughter. Just then from the other side of the giant tree, Jack asked about the presence of snakes. While he waited for an answer, he looked down toward his feet and saw a very large snake skin. I’m not typically a religious or mystical guy, but there was just too much going on here to ignore. The two fellows I was with also took a much more serious demeanor. What a strange thing I thought aloud…This is one blan that will not be ignoring Haiti’s rich religious heritage—vodou or otherwise!

Letting Go

Not to be too arrogant, but I am also writing this song on behalf of Christopher Columbus. Haiti is not a place you just visit, as Columbus would surely have told you (he shipwrecked there in 1492). It's not a stream into which you just dip a toe. Here, you dive in headlong. It drives you crazy—with love, with anxiety, with desire. You fall into its arms as if it's been waiting forever to receive you. It hasn't. And as with any great unrequited love, Haiti's indifference only makes you crazier for the place. - Amy Wilentz, from her “Love Song for Haiti”

One of my great fears about finishing my formal education is that my mind will become static from not being exposed to new ideas. Grad school has certainly not helped this fear as there is constant exposure to the world’s great thinkers—and beyond that exposure, Professors encourage harsh criticism of those thinkers. For my own purposes, developing a critical eye involved rethinking the positive view of the organizations that I’d come to know as the world’s development players. While this was difficult in the classroom, I quickly found there is no problem developing a dissenting opinion when looking into the eyes those affected by the policies of those development players. Though I’d been to Haiti on two occasions prior to this past January, I had never truly engaged in on-the-ground, critical thought about the policies that shaped the grinding existence before my eyes. Perhaps I thought I understood it before? Maybe now after a semester of lessons in Kreyol I felt more connected? Whatever the reason, I felt myself learning, understanding and criticizing at a higher rate than I’d ever experienced before. Though I dove into Haiti before this trip, it was as if the water didn’t feel cold anymore, like I was no longer afraid to see what was in the deepest part of the lake. This new level of comfort and understanding only allowed for greater focus.

That focus allowed all neurons to fire. I asked a million questions both of myself and every person I met. I pushed any Kreyol skills I had to the limit and tried so hard to understand the cultural dynamic—as well as my very minor role in it. This focus also allowed for understanding SOILs work and just how important it is in breaking Haiti’s cycle of poverty. To close this post, below is one of the few things I wrote while in Cap-Haitien.

A simple observation is that because of the location of this organization in an apartment above the street in Okap, there is little separation between the very important work of helping the poor and the SOIL Staff’s own time to recuperate from the exhaustion of Haiti. Certainly this attributes to specifically Sasha’s stress, though I think in her heart she wouldn’t have it any other way. For those studying development in the U.S. it is a common observation that out of sight is out of mind. That simply cannot exist here. Though Haiti is always hot, when it rains and floods, the street children have no place to sleep or dry off and still have nothing to eat. At any given time of day there can be three or four children standing below the SOIL apartment bellowing their lungs out with nonsense, yelling “sha-sha” or in the case of one little boy who is deaf, simply squeaking out whatever sound he can muster in an attempt to get the attention of someone who will come down and give him some scraps of food. The boys who scream nonsense are typically high from huffing paint thinner, of which they usually reek. The constant rate of emotional bombardment is astounding, though I think it comes mostly from a knowledge of life on the other side of the water—where “prestige falls from the sky and the rivers flow with coca-cola” as one of my travel companions of years past observed. It is astounding to me that the SOIL team has not become emotional hardened—calloused to a sharpened point.

The Meaning of Grassroots

After completing course readings for both this course and other courses dealing with development theory, it seems there is much debate about the use of the term “grassroots.” While it is certainly becoming a hip part of the development vernacular, one question I’ve been asking myself for quite a while is what truly qualifies as “grassroots” development?

To say that I came into Haiti with a “chip on my shoulder” about NGOs and their work is probably a vast understatement. Having just completed a fall course in Ecological Anthropology that dealt largely with failed development cases in indigenous communities, I felt as if I was drowning in a flood of moral and ethical questions that surrounded the nature of development. Was ALL development neocolonial? Inherently racist? Paternalistic? Which organizations were doing good work?

From an educational perspective, one thing that any student of Haiti can tell you is that it has long been known for its failed or corrupted development endeavors. There is a litany of reasons for this sad fact and while I didn’t understand it at the time, this is the reason that Ti Paul explained the idea of “small successes” in Haitian development. Upon further reflection, I believe that he meant that “small successes” must be the driving force behind Haitian development because of the rigid political and economic structures in place in Haiti—a country which is controlled by a minority elite that systematically exploit the rural population. For this reason, it seems that the best endeavors in bypassing those rigid structures are the so-called “grassroots” organizations that work on the community level. Qualifying these groups can be dangerous however as certainly “grassroots” is only a word and can be exploited as part of a dynamic donor friendly vocabulary. That is to say, “grassroots” the buzzword and “grassroots” the development practice ought to be separated. This is challenging but can be understood in the “Two Ears of Corn” approach advocated by Roland Bunch. Intrigued? Let me explain….

Ralph Bunch’s “People-Centered Agricultural Development” technique (which he outlines in his book “Two Ears of Corn”) focuses on participatory development and increasing agricultural yields through a series of adaptable core principals. The basics of these principals are 1) to teach farmers to experiment with new technologies on a small scale, 2) use rapidly viewed success to motivate farmers to continue innovation, 3) use technologies that use local and inexpensive resources, 4) begin by using a small number of technologies and finally 5) train local leaders as extensionists and support teach other farmers, thus spreading the technology. Bunch’s approach is predicated on the idea that many large NGOs don’t often work on a people to people or farmer to farmer level. Additionally, he cites many of the techniques being used in development practices are those being exported from industrial countries and were developed after those nations were economically advanced. Thus the technology in use is not appropriate for farmers in developing nations that lack the resources of farmers in the developed world.

Having taken this class and spent a significant amount of time with the SOIL/SOL staff, it seems to me that though SOIL does not work with agricultural development, the organization was born out of very similar ideals. Taking those ideals and incorporating community needs, SOIL has adjusted and sharpened itself to a very effective and nimble point. Their “all people are people” ethos is evident in every aspect of both work and social relationships. It’s evident in Sasha and Sarah hugging each one of us as we stepped out of the airport and it’s also evident in every aspect of the very important work that SOIL does.

Arrival in Haiti

Before I begin the series of posts for the January 2010 SOIL class in Haiti, I want to note that while I was hoping to complete them while in Cap-Haitien, the course was disrupted by the tragic earthquake that struck Port-au-Prince. Therefore I am writing from the few notes I took and from memory.

Tick tock.

This story, like most Craig travel stories, starts with an absence of time and absence of sleep. Though I’d been thinking critically about the trip for many weeks prior to going, in the final hours of preparation I was unable to think too much as there was only time for packing. Driving to the airport I had to remind myself I was in Florida as it was downright chilly, even for this hardy Midwestern boy.

Unloading our bags at the airport, I met and began chatting with the fellow students taking the course. Our group was comprised of Jack from Notre Dame, Andrew, Camille and Diana from UM and of course Ann-Marie and your humble blogger—representing FIU.

After some chilly time on the tarmac, we boarded the small charter plane, strapped in and were quickly high above Florida headed south. The flight was a bit bumpy and as we got closer to the northern coast of Hispaniola, the mountains suddenly appeared. They were so much more green and lush than those in the Central Plateau, which I recall as being dusty and almost wholly absent of trees. Here there were entire mountainsides covered in clumps of trees or some kind of vegetative growth—I was quite frankly stunned, but delightfully so. A rainy fog covered the tops of the mountains, which were like a protective wall around the city of Cap-Haitien. I flashed back to the books I’d read and recalled the descriptions of the historic port city. My thoughts descended quickly, taking their usual path toward Haiti’s beleaguered history. I saw the harbor stacked with haggard, cracking vessels full of survivors of the Middle Passage. I tried are to imagine their struggle and wondered how their view of the mountains was different from my own. There wasn’t too much time for that as soon we were on the ground, dodging rain and collecting our belongings. Sasha and Sarah were waiting for us with open arms—literally. They gave us a cordial welcome and we returned to the SOIL apartment. After being shown around and meeting the SOL staff, everyone went their separate ways for a while. Finally coming down off the overwork of my adrenals, which I’m certain were pumping for several hours straight, I promptly passed out inside my little mosquito net fortress.

In the afternoon, I slept hard for several hours but was jolted awake by some yelling down on the street. I rolled over in a daze, got up and went to find Jack and Andre, my roommates and soon to be partners in crime. Jack was downstairs trying to talk to a young Haitian boy who had a cut above his eye. Apparently there had been some kind of fight among a few of the “street kids.” Sasha was scrambling around—“we’re off to the hospital” she said with that perky attitude and smile that never goes on break. I don’t remember how many people went to the hospital but we took two kids in, the boy with the cut above his eye and another boy, his friend, who had a severe lip infection.

The hospital left a lot to be desired, and that’s putting it nicely. This was the state hospital and while it seemed to be staffed, it was clear that “sterile” was a relative term. After sitting with the boys, we eventually wandered around the corner to try to find the doctor. It would seem he was rather busy as there was a young man who had deep head contusions and was tied to wooden bench receiving stitches. We clearly weren’t in Kansas anymore.

Darkness quickly approaching, we headed back to the apartment after a long day. I laid down in bed after a long talk with the boys. I thought about the day’s events recalling Graham Greene’s adage about Haiti as a “surreal comedy.” Those thoughts didn’t last long as I quickly faded into sleep.

A Grapefruit Development Complex...

Hello Readers! If you’re out there? I seem to hear the sounds of my own salutation echoing off the walls of cyberspace…hmm. Well at any rate, whether you’re there or not, I apologize in the long delay between entries, it’s getting to be finals time here at FIU and I’ve been a bit busy. While my next few entries will be “vintage posts” referring largely to SOIL and the UMiami course completed in January in Cap-Haitien, I first wanted to include a few other updates and thoughts.

In a previous post I mentioned the idea of a lack of practical experience among university students—mainly myself. I also discussed my own fledgling efforts to overcome that gap in knowledge as it is frustrating and quite simply foolish to assume that one can connect or relate to a large portion of the developing world without some knowledge or experience in growing something.

While discussing this topic yesterday with a fellow student at the Clinton Global Initiative Conference at the University of Miami, I found out that my frustrations are not my own. Though she grew up in rural Colorado with an earthy family in a largely agricultural community, she shared my thoughts on the irony of studying development policy and not having any of the practical knowledge that goes into the on the ground practices. As we continued to chat, I eventually shared with her the story I’m going to share with you: my own micro effort to start to bridge my gap in knowledge. Though it’s not much of a story per se, it has been an interesting experience and one worth noting.

I’m not sure when this great impracticality occurred to me but one day I realized that given all of this tree-studying, I had never actually grown any trees. Sure there was the pine tree they gave us in grade school on Arbor day, but it was already a sapling, I hadn’t taken it in its raw fruit form, dried the seed and started from scratch. I was ashamed I hadn’t thought of it before, I guess part of it has to do with climate—given that trees and plants in general grow much better in Florida than Ohio or New Jersey. Still, this is no excuse for someone who claims to study trees, agriculture and development in general.

My task began and after selecting the species, I kicked myself. I’ve been living in Florida—the citrus fruit capital of America—for quite some time now. There could be only one choice and I need only look to my local fruit bowl…the delicious, plump and incomparable ruby red grapefruit. I also realized that an additional connection—remembering the many glasses of grapefruit juice I’d had in Haiti (I memorized “ji chadek” pretty quickly!—though it’s a bit different species in Haiti, the grapefruit in principal was first cultivated in the Caribbean by a man named Shaddock, hence “chadek” in Kreyol).

After using moderns mans greatest tool (tongue and check)—the Googles, I was able to surmise the process by which I could begin.

I started by eating several grapefruit and choosing what I deemed to be the best and most delicious—this was not hard. I then saved the largest seeds from that fruit, washed them and allowed them to dry overnight on a paper towel. I then began the quest for dirt. While I thought I’d prefer using some kind of compost or peat moss (I have learned SOMETHING from all this research), I had to settle for the darkest soil I could find around FIU. I grabbed my bucket, improvised with a few containers out of the recycling bin and began my search for dirt ( I was also accompanied by my fellow coconut hunter Sandeep, the most mischievous man South India has ever produced). We looked all over campus and finally near the Computer Science/Environmental Studies building, we found some relatively dark and rich soil. We filled the bucket and various containers, returned to my apartment and buried the seeds.

After several weeks it seemed I was religiously watering small containers full of dirt. Nothing emerged but I kept faith. As it began to get warmer I moved the containers to the small area outside my bedroom windowsill. Still weeks passed and nothing happened—I kept watering. It would appear that going away was the best solution as I came back one weekend only to find that small green stalks were emerging from the damp abyss. Finally! While this may not necessarily ensure my green thumb award, it was a good experience in getting my hands dirty. As for how the grapefruit will taste? Check back with me in 6 or 7 years….The point is that the process has begun, green things are growing!

I leave you this week with this “tree-mendous” article from the New York Times about Trees, enjoy...

http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/04/06/tree-mendous/?hp

PS- Should have photos of my small grapefruit children up soon!

The Story of Haiti and How You Can Help - (Take 2)

In looking back this probably should have been my first post as it was what first inspired this blog. Since I wrote this SOIL has been working in Port-au-Prince to try to alleviate the dire need for toilets and proper waste removal. I also believe they have started their first compost site in/around Port-au-Prince. You can check for updates on the SOIL website at www.oursoil.org They are doing great work.

I will have another post up shortly with a few thoughts on development efforts in Haiti.

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Those of you that know me well (and even those of you with whom I have not been in recent contact) know that at some point in the last few years I dove headlong into the rocky, treacherous and beautiful cause that is Haiti. Haiti has in so many ways become my life. It consumes my mind through research, my mouth through a fellowship to learn its language and my heart through its very existence.

To paraphrase Amy Wilentz, who has written extensively on this distinct phenomenon: Haiti is not a place into which one can take a sample or half-heartedly commit, rather Haiti grabs you with its giant claws and doesn’t let go. You feel as if it is grabbing you for a reason, like it has been waiting for you—and when you find out it hasn’t, you thrive on its rejection.

Though most are familiar with Haiti’s problems (including the international press, which has long painted Haiti as a dangerous and savage outcast), few know it’s deep and hardy roots, which stand fast as a base for the tree of liberty in the Western hemisphere. Haiti was the second country (behind the U.S.), to garner independence from its European colonizer. The legacy of that colonial power (the French, who called their colony “Saint-Domingue”) is one of raw brutality, torture and bloody sweat. As we labor to help Haiti in the wake of the 7.1 magnitude earthquake I believe we should know and understand the story of these people.

French plantation owners committed unspeakable atrocities on their enslaved West African imports—unspeakable to the point that most of the female population was sterile, or was worked to death before being able to reproduce. It was quite frankly cheaper to import new slaves than take care of those already in the colony. Imported slaves developed a common language that was primarily a mix of French and West African languages. Given this tumultuous origin, it is no surprise then that the language that emerged—Haitian Kreyol—has long been called “the language of survival.” Though rumblings of resistance were previously met with harsh blows, in 1791 the slave populations of northern Saint-Domingue rose up under the leadership of Voudou Spiritual Leader Dutty Boukman (or “Book-man”, so called for his reading abilities). Following a ritual at Bois Caiman, the slaves began a thirteen year rebellion against their French oppressors. Initially armed with nothing more than long machetes used for cutting sugar cane, the slaves rapidly began to organize under the leadership of General Toussaint Louverture, an educated former slave and devout Catholic. Though Louverture was captured, his armies eventually defeated French forces under the leadership of General Jean-Jacques Dessalines.

On January 1, 1804 just months after dealing the French their final blow at the battle of Vertieres, Dessalines restored the name “Ayiti” or “Land of High Mountains” in the native Taino language and infamously declared that in defeating the French he had “avenged the new world.”

Truly the forces of good defeated those of the purest evil, that is what a successful slave rebellion represents, good over evil, right over wrong, liberation from chains and oppression. Despite this polished and hardened moral victory Haiti was made a pariah by the international community. The United States did not recognize Haiti for sixty years after its independence and France refused to trade with its former colony until the young nation agreed to pay today’s equivalent of $20 billion in reparations for property lost during the Haitian revolution. It was of course that $20 billion that forced Haiti into a cycle of debt and deforestation (much of the islands tropical timber was felled and sold to raise money to pay reparations).

Since its existence Haiti has been punished for its success—punished for being on the side of good in defeating evil. Call it racism, call it jealousy, call it ignorance or call it disrespect, the fact remains that the victory and legacy of Haiti and the Haitian people still represent the ultimate moral triumph of any age and any place on earth. Good defeating evil is rarely so transparent. Despite decades of challenges that range from environmental degradation to political instability to outright occupation by foreign powers (the U.S. occupied Haiti for 19 years from 1915-1934 to “protect American and foreign interests”), this moral victory endures. Despite the stereotypes of voudou practitioners, the boats of refugees that sink under the weight of desperate souls trying for a better life, and the yearly devastating hurricanes, this victory endures and lives within the soul of each Haitian.

Thus it should be with great anticipation that we seize the opportunity to be a part of the cause of the Haitian people, which since the beginning has been the cause of good over evil.

Everyone wants to know how to help, and not just for the now but for the future as well. I am fortunate enough to have traveled to Haiti three times, and was present on the island when the latest disaster struck. I believe I have found an organization that is employing effective and innovative solutions to common problems. The program is called Sustainable Organic Integrated Livelihood (S.O.I.L.) and to speak candidly, they build toilets.

So you may be asking yourself how can I be advocating for the building of toilets when the capital city lays in ruins? My logic is plain and direct, this organization has developed a method to change human waste into nutrient rich compost, all the while teaching basic public health and enriching Haiti’s topsoil, which is severely depleted after years of deforestation . Improper sanitation breeds disease, drains resources and prevents community growth. Further, massive deforestation has created a cyclical problem leaving Haiti vulnerable to Caribbean hurricanes, mudslides, and desertification so severe that large crop yields are hard to come by, which is what forces Haiti to depend largely on imported food.
Through this organization’s work they have reached into the villages in northern Haiti and developed partnerships with the local people and organizations. They have been doing the on-the-ground work that has taught them where the needs of the people really are for years, and now that chaos has erupted in the wake of the earthquake they are well positioned to, in the short term get supplies to the people that need them most. They are small, agile, thrifty and their long-term connection to the people of Haiti will not fade after the cameras and microphones of the world media are shut off. Perhaps most importantly, I have witnessed firsthand that this organization operates under a very basic ethos, “Tout Moun Se Moun” or “All People are People.” They are well connected to both American and Haitian organizations that are on the ground doing disaster relief now, and they will continue their valuable work over the long term.

As I close I must present the awkward request for your charity. At the very least I urge you to remember the story of Haiti, their triumph over enslavement, their fight for freedom and recognize that they deserve liberty from the narrative that paints them as primitive, uncivilized or looking for a handout. They share all of humanity’s desire to sing in the glory of self sustaining sovereignty. This is a story that must be told so please correct misinformation, and fight ignorance of Haiti’s story. If you can, I urge you to give to the organization S.O.I.L. by going to www.oursoil.org (you can also follow one of the directors blogs, Dr. Sasha Kramer is currently working in Port-au-Prince). I pledge that from what I have seen, this group will continue their valuable work, allowing Haiti to move beyond survival to a place where they can prosper.

I urge you to give both now and in the future.

Participate in the cause of good, invest in Haiti.

The Total Environment

Though usually harm to the environment and its effect on human populations seems gradual and distant, the tragic reality is that in many parts of the developing world, the environment is not a distant concept but something dealt with and depended on for daily survival. The traditional concept of “nature” or “conservation” in the US is a large, undeveloped area with lots and lots of trees—and no people. Though volumes exist on the evolution of the environmental movement and the debates between conservation and poverty alleviation (most people that inhabit forests are generally poor, booting them out to “conserve” only disrupts their livelihood more), the fact is that the connections between human and environment are exponential and cannot be ignored. These connections are tragically apparent in Haiti, where environmental degradation is inherently tied to degenerated soil quality and a near total absence of trees. Because only 2% of Haiti’s tree cover remains, deforestation has caused massive erosion and soil degeneration. Subsequently poor agricultural yields hinder the nation’s ability to produce enough food to feed itself (though US rice imports flooding the market has not helped either). Combining these conditions with peasant demands for energy—which comes in the form of wood charcoal—threatens the Haitian environment’s capacity to sustain a burgeoning population. While Haiti may never be the lush forested island it once was, strategically planted trees and hedgerows may serve as erosion barriers to halt what in some cases can be a rather harsh reminder that the effects of environmental degradation are not always slow or gradual. A recent mudslide in Cap Haitien, which crashed into a school and took the lives of four students, serves as a harsh reminder that in Haiti the environment is not fading slowly on a distant horizon but is crumbling away on a daily basis, threatening not only Haiti’s agricultural economy, but her citizens too.

http://www.miamiherald.com/2010/02/16/1482002/mudslides-hit-school-four-students.html

*The city of Cap-Haitien is built right into the mountains surrounding the city

Introduction

As you can read over to the right, my name is Craig and I am currently a graduate student in the Latin American and Caribbean Center at FIU in Miami. I completed my undergraduate work in the Whitehead School of Diplomacy at Seton Hall University in South Orange, New Jersey. I’ve started this blog as a platform upon which to build. Though I hope to document my own story as it happens, my principal concern will be to weave my own experiences into the epic landscape of Haiti and its beautiful people. As I will likely discuss in greater detail in later posts, the cause of Haiti is the cause of good. The very existence of the Haitian republic represents the triumph of slave over master –of right over wrong and good over evil. As you can guess by the title of this humble little blog my focus is on trees and the Haitian environment. Deforestation and the cycle of poverty, as well as reforestation efforts (for lack of better technical terminology) are the general focus of my research. I look forward to whatever lays ahead and to employing this blog as an outlet for recording my experiences. Check back for updates and please feel free to post your own comments and feedback!