In the two weeks since we returned to Haiti on January 5, Meer and I drove (actually Makendy or John did the driving) into Port-au-Prince five times. It is at times surreal. It is always mentally and physically exhausting. Let me try and capture as best I can, the sights and sounds I experienced over the past two weeks.
National Route 2 to Port-au-Prince (or PauP as it is written on the tap taps) is alternately bad and horrible. Route 2 is the main east-west artery from PauP way to Miragoâne and then south over the mountains to Les Cayes. But it is only a two-lane road. Traffic goes from speeding along at 50 mph to slowing down to 2 mph because of a bad patch where the road surface is completely torn up or where the occasional speed bump is found in front of a police station or customs checkpoint. The road is filled with traffic. In particular, there are lots of trucks; dump trucks, large (bus-size) tap taps, tap taps, and SUVs. And a few cars. You see hardly any American brand vehicles.
Driving is nerve-wracking. Driving behind a tap tap is the worst. Tap taps are basically pickup trucks with benches along the inside of the bed and a frame attached to the sides which support a metal covering. These tap taps stop anywhere along the road to pick up and drop off passengers. So as you are driving behind them, they may suddenly slow down and pull over (or not) to the side of the road to pick someone up or drop someone off. You have to always be watching to see if they are going to suddenly stop.
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| A tap tap in Port-au-Prince |
There are no lines on the road so passing is a real test of nerves. Since Route 2 is really only a two-lane road, when you pass you are usually staring at a giant dump truck coming straight at you. Everyone passes everyone else so horns are blaring constantly. There are horn signals for when you want to pass, when you are passing, when you have finished passing. There are horn signals for when you want a vehicle to move over so that you can pass. Signals for passing a motorcycle. Signals to warn people crossing the road to get out of the way. Signals to let someone know that they can proceed through an intersection or cut in front of you. There is a form of horn etiquette but I have not completely figured it out yet.
The road is full of dust and smoke. The smoke from diesel engines mixes in with the smoke rising from charcoal fires and burning trash. It is the dry season in Haiti and the drainage ditches are bone dry but filled with trash. Smoke curls up from trash burning in the drainage ditches.
On the outskirts of PauP, we pass a service station called Station de l’Immaculee Conception (Immaculate Conception Service Station). Everywhere along the road and in PauP there are shops with names praising God or citing the Bible: Gloire de Dieu Clinique Dentaire (Glory to God Dental Clinic); La Sang de Jesus Cosmetiques et Alimentation (The Blood of Jesus Foods and Cosmetics).
As we drive through Carrefour, we round a curve where buses are lined up to take people into the center of town. On the left, is the dump where smoke is always rising up from the mounds of trash. Sometimes I see people milling around on the piles of trash picking through them looking for anything useful. I once saw a man in PauP using his machete to slash open plastic bags of trash and sort through the trash for anything he could use.
Just before entering the PauP city limits, we pass Thor Terminal, the oil terminal along the shoreline. There are always dozens of tanker trucks lined up along the road. As we drive past you might think that “DEFENSE DE FUMER” is the name of the leading tanker truck company in Haiti. It is not. It’s just that all the tankers that transport fuel have “DEFENSE DE FUMER” written in giant letters on the sides and backs of the tanks. It means No Smoking. Interestingly, I have seen very few Haitians who smoke.
Port-au-Prince is crumbling and decaying. It is rebuilding and falling apart at the same time. It is in a perpetual state of construction. Trash is everywhere but trash is being picked up now by the SMCRS (Le Service métropolitain de collecte de résidus solides – Metropolitan Trash Collection Service). They have a Facebook page – it has 65 likes. Unlike when I first drove though PauP two years ago, today I see more SMCRS trucks and I even see workers sweeping streets or shoveling trash from the market place into dumpsters.
As you drive through PauP, you see a lot of UN vehicles. The first few times it is exciting. Wow, there’s a UN car (or truck). Oh, there’s a truck with soldiers from Brazil (or Uruguay, or Argentina or Guatemala). After you see your 50th UN vehicle, it’s ho hum, just another white Nissan. The same goes for the UN base camps. They seem to be everywhere, especially around the airport and near the U.S. Embassy. The U.S. Embassy, by the way, seems to be in an industrial park (I saw the $3200 leather arm chair in the big box store across from the Embassy). It is far from the center of PAP. The Embassy used to be in the center of PauP. Now it is isolated and out in the middle of nowhere. A metaphor or the reality of post-911 security concerns?
We have lunch at a little restaurant near the airport. Makendy once more pulls into an impossibly small space for the Everest, and he does it after cutting across traffic to turn left into the parking space in front of the restaurant. We order lunch: poulet local or poulet importer – local or imported chicken. The local chicken is more expensive but overall the dishes are inexpensive, 300-350 gourdes for lunch, about $7.00-8.00. For some unknown reason, the movie on the TV monitor is showing Thor-The Dark World. We cannot hear the sound but the movie is subtitled - in Chinese. When we leave I see a massive guy with a gun squeezing into a UN vehicle parked next to the Everest. He had a U.S. flag shoulder patch. The U.S. has committed troops to the MINUSTAH mission but this is the first one I’ve seen.
We pile back in the Everest. After a few more stops, it is time to return to Christianville. We are exhausted. I am beginning to recognize the landmarks on the streets and know when we will turn. There is the broken down SUV (a white Chevy 2500), with at least two flat tires, sitting right in the middle of a major intersection. It is always there. I once pointed this out to Meer. He told me that it was a police “station”. The next time we drove past, I noticed that the SUV was still there but the doors were open and a couple of police were standing around and sitting inside the SUV. Makendy turned left at the police “station” and we joined the exodus out of PauP.
Traffic moves slowly back west towards the sun setting on Route 2. The traffic slows and inches its way through Carrefour. Street vendors stand in the road and peddle cold drinks, water, ice, loaves of bread, and sweets (vendors near the airport sell cell phone headphones, chargers and sunglasses; go figure). They walk alongside the cars and tap taps as the line of traffic slowly moves forward and sell their wares and then walk back to their places in the road. Makendy waves over a Pap Padap, a Digicel street vendor who can add minutes to your cell phone. He tells the Pap Padap how much he wants to buy, hands him a 100 gourdes note and his cell phone. The Pap Padap calls a number, enters his code and the amount Makendy is buying. He gives the phone back to Makendy. Seconds later, Makendy’s cell phone receives a text message verifying the amount he just bought. We drive on, Makendy’s cell phone recharged with gourdes. Meer dozes off. I doze off as well. Madsen is talking on his cell phone. Makendy keeps driving. We slow down to cross the speed bumps at the Gressier police station checkpoint. We are close now. Makendy turns left at the Total gas station. The motorcycle taxis at the entrance to the road leading to Christianville edge backwards to make room for the Everest. We bounce along the road another five minutes and pull into the Christianville compound. We’re back home.
