Rocks

Rocks

It would seem that rocks everywhere in Haiti; except, maybe, in the sugar cane fields.  No, no … they are there too.  One thing Haiti isn’t short on is rocks; big, little, micro, macro, annoying in your shoe rock, blasted under your tire rock … a rock for every occasion and unoccasion, if that, in fact, is a word in itself … spell check says no.  But rocks seem to be a way of life here.

The river is a great place to get rocks.  A vast deposit that stretches to the ocean and goes inland for miles and miles; and is hundreds of yards wide and many, many meters thick.  This is the river gravel we use for foundational pads and roadway base.  It digs up relatively easy, goes down like butter and packs like a good road base should; hard.  Earlier this week we used a couple of days up transporting rock to remake some roads.  Today and yesterday the material was transported for a church foundation.  So all this week I’ve spent my time down by the riverside shoveling vast quantities of, you guessed it, rock.

One of Pierre's rock piles; see if you can spot the machete and sugar cane

MacWhile in the process of digging creek gravel with the loader I’ve become an informal friend with Pierre.  I had a great picture of him and his sisters today; but I erased it by accident, so it is lost …. Very lost.  Anyway, Pierre wandered onto our jobsite at the river a week ago.  He would dart in and out behind the loader to pick up rocks and toss them aside.  He was steady at it and, every day I was there digging, he was there tossing.  Eventually, he acquired a nice size pile of rocks. 

Yesterday and today Pierre was back.  As I piled and moved gravel he was there again, tossing rocks and making piles.  Today, he brought his two sisters.  The trucks I was loading had long runs in between loadings so I wandered down to where Pierre was tossing and indicated that he should toss the rocks he accumulated into the loader bucket.  He and his sisters jumped at the idea since they were hauling them to a central location with a plastic 5 gallon bucket.  So I spent time moving their rocks while waiting on the trucks.  I think I actually spent more time moving their rocks than I did loading our own trucks….but I had the time and they had the rocks.

By days end Pierre and his sisters were accompanied by a brother in law, and two other family members.  We actually made three piles of rocks along with two piles of sand that we found in veins further into the hole.  They were quite happy for the help.  James and I had extra water and food for lunch so they gladly took that and tossed rocks and split up the food amongst themselves. 

As the day grew on the serious countenance they started with grew into smiles and laughter as we made a game of digging and tossing and dodging the loader. 

I stopped and talked to Pierre via James for a few minutes.  He has been doing rocks for a long time.  I asked what he did with them.  He said he takes a hammer and splits them up and makes crushed stone to sell.  A single axle load brings around 50 bucks and can take up to two weeks to make.  His father does it, he does it, his brother in law and, probably, his entire family of eight siblings all make rock to cover expenses.  When they run across a vein of river sand it is like gold to them.  Sand doesn’t have to be crushed, only piled; and it brings a higher dollar from a buyer. Another money maker for them are the larger rocks.  Most of the crushed stone variety are around fist size.  The larger ones that take two hands to carry are put in another pile and sold as foundational stones.  So that makes, lets see, four piles:  One for crushed stone source material, another made from the source material, one for foundational stones and a final one for sand.  And yes, it takes an enormous amount of manpower and time.  In addition, when a load is sold, the truck comes around to pick it up …. And Pierre still has to load it by hand. 

Pierre and his family were not dressed very well.  He had on some canvas shorts and a shirt twice his size.  His shoes were similar to thongs.  One of his sisters had on a long dress with printed flowers on it.  The other sister had on a short skirt with a t shirt … she was barefoot.  They worked hard enough to work up a sweat; they smiled and laughed openly when the occasion arose, and when it was time to drive the loader back to the Lamb Center for the weekend, they jumped up and down waving their arms and flashing huge perfect smiles at me in gratitude. 

Pierre was manlier; he stood perfectly straight, smiled and gave me two thumbs up.