The Great Haitian Silver Roof Dance

The Great Haitian Silver Roof Dance

A month or so ago the base manager requested two roof coverings be moved.  They provided rain protection for the motorcycle fleet which is no longer to be used.  They are big; probably twenty feet by forty.  He wanted them removed quickly and intact as they might be useable in the future.

The removal went smoothly.  The rubble team unhooked them from the perimeter wall, cut the supporting posts, put a brace under the roof and moved them with the fork attachment on the loader.  They were leaned up against the perimeter wall further towards the kitchen with the help of twenty or so nationals.  That finished the project; until today.

Once again, plans and layouts changed.  It was time for the roofs to be moved to the ‘other side’ of the wall, across base and, yes, mostly intact.  John, the base manager, had already cut most of the big one in two, thinking that it would be more manageable.  Once again, the Haitians came to lay it on the ground so John could finish cutting the roofing metal so they were ‘mobile’. 

After lunch the rubble crew continued with their project of adding fill material to the ground outside the new offices.  I was on the new backhoe loading Kiki’s dump truck on the far side of the property with creek gravel.  Junior and I waited in the creek for Kiki to return for another load.  After a while I shut the backhoe off to conserve fuel.  Across base I heard what sounded like a loud boom box playing some sort of Haitian melody.  Since the ‘neighbors’ property to the west tends to harbor noisy parties most hours of the day I didn’t think much of it.  A few minutes later I noticed that the boom box noise had risen in intensity and almost sounded like a riot of people arguing, yelling and carrying on (Haitians tend to sound like that a lot; especially when someone has an idea someone else though of).  I looked at Junior with bewilderment but he only grinned and slowly shook his head. A few minutes again passed and the commotion grew louder and nearer.  Then I noticed that it was singing; in Haitian; very loud; resembling some foreign tribal chant.  I pulled the backhoe forward for a better view around the sugar cane.  Just at that moment a very large silver roof came around the corner of the wall; it was so fast that it leaned into the turn like some mad race car at Daytona.  It bounced up and down in rhythm with the music, each vibrato rippling the metal surface in a smooth beat.  Underneath the heavy metallica were twenty or so Haitians singing at the top of their voices, laughing and moving the disembodied roof like a troop of ants parading a sacrifice to some distant god.  The dancing roof with the forty plus feet kicking up dust accelerated after it finished careening around the corner and sped down the dirt road like some scared gazelle trying to outrun a pride of lions.  In another thirty seconds it was hoisted to its new location against another perimeter wall.   A cheer and laughter followed for twenty seconds and then, like a magicians poof of smoke, the Haitians all disappeared. 

Call it team work, like when they unloaded the concrete blocks late into one evening; call it being goofy, like Americans can do when in the middle of a rigorous hike with full packs and loaded rifles.  Either way I was positive that the Great Silver Roof Dance will forever go down in the annals of Haitian history.  It will be sung for generations like some ancient Hobbit tale, and will bring a tear of laughter to the eyes of those who share it with their young.