The Important Stuff

Important Stuff

Sometimes it is difficult in life to discern the things that are important.  When you go overseas for a season those important things seem to crop up in the most interesting ways.  And when they do it confirms what you knew all along, but never really appreciated.

Today was a long, hot day.  I spent some time on the new backhoe trying to figure out how to dig a ditch.  Fortunately, it didn’t require an exact grade and I had a helper who did rake out the ditch to make things level.  As the day wore on rusty gears in my memory broke loose and caused my hands to remember how to work the controls without thinking.  I was remembering.  The hard part was not thinking about it, just doing it.  Another couple of days and I will operate this machine a lot better than I started to today.

A couple of other people had long days, too.  So it was decided that three or four of us would watch a movie to kind of unwind going into the weekend.  Lisa knew that I had wanted to watch Despicable Me a few weeks ago so she suggested that.  She arranged the projection equipment and I brought the computer that had it in memory.

Shortly after starting the movie a few additional people wandered in while a few left.  It was a small number of four that stayed for the show.

As the movie progressed I was consumed by memories of watching the movie with my wife and kids.  I knew where everyone would laugh, cry or make funny comments.  This crew simply watched it.  I tried my best to keep as quiet as everyone else but it simply was not to be.  I longed for Kimmie to laugh when Gru called his ‘dog’ Kyle and hearing his appropriate jocular response.  When the little ‘twinky’ guys were doing their sped up talking and mimicking, I missed hearing Jon and Stephanie  giggle along at the absurdity of it.  I wanted to cuddle with my wife when Gru read the little unicorn story near the end and hear Chris sigh when he kissed his minions on the foreheads.

I know movies can be time wasters to some extent, but I also recognize the closeness that comes from watching, laughing and participating in them with loved ones.  It forms a bond of sorts that always seems to bring a smile and a fond memory.

Perhaps it began on Friday nights years ago when the family would gather around the brand new color TV and have milkshake and popcorn night.  John and Jan would mix up some elaborate flavored malted milkshake like chocolate, peanut butter and banana.  Mom popped up some fresh popcorn with butter and put it in the great big green and white plastic mixing bowls.  Then with dad in his recliner, mom on the padded rocker and the four kids scattered on the floor in the den we would start with Wild, Wild Westor Neils favorite, The Time Tunnel, and then roll on to more important shows like Star Trek, the original, not a rerun, or Mission Impossible.  We would ooo and ahh at the special effects, laugh as a family at the humor and bask in the resolved story line.  It was a tradition that carried on into adulthood that formed a special bond that exists to this day.

I’m not necessarily saying that movies and TV shows are an answer to how a family gets close, but I am saying that those special moments of growing up together watching the new medium of TV helped to frame our family in a way that made us want to relive those memories of laughter and to be a part of something special.  As we grew older it carried on beyond the movies and expanded into a desire to be a part of each others lives in a rich and different way that is quite uncommon in our culture today.  And more than that, it has trickled down to my kids and to their cousins.  It is even a finer thing that our times together are founded in our Christian faith along with doing other fun things like cookouts, parties or campouts.  We are also discovering my mom’s wisdom in playing word games like Scrabble as they quicken the mind and prod the players to help each other by ‘friendly cheating’ and stretching the Webster’s Dictionary to its limits. 

I miss those times with my wife and kids.  I thank God that He made our family close and closeby so we can enjoy those benefits whenever we can.  I look forward to resuming those contacts when I return in a couple of weeks.  I’m also hoping that Stef is keeping up with the movie list that we have to catch up on.

It will be a grand time.

Pierre

Pierre

Last Friday I met a man on base whose name was Pierre.  This is a different guy than the Pierre I met at the gravel bars on the river.  This Pierre is a Haitian by birth but was in the US military for 25 years.  He recently retired, moved back here in 07 and started working with Pastors in Haiti. 

Pierre is a smaller man, in his early fifties I would guess and wears wire rimmed glasses that are a little crooked on his round smiling face.  He joined SP immediately after the earthquake two years ago and, because of his military training, was basically in charge of the logistics of getting the bases set up and equipped.  In time those roles were assumed by other personnel and he moved into a different role of coordinating outreach between SP and the local churches.

I met Pierre as I returned to the tents after dinner.  We introduced ourselves and struck up a casual conversation.  I had picked up some history on the guy from my prior room mate and moved the conversation over to his current role in working with pastors in the country. 

Pierre has a passion for Haiti.  You can see it in his eyes and his face as he talks about the problems in his native land.  His father and mother were both into Voodou, a native faith intermingled with Catholism.  Proponents have a strange belief system that mixes spiritism and the conjuring of spirits of dead family members to bless their life’s paths or present curses to others who have done them wrong.  Many of the Catholic saints are used to make this bridge.  It is odd, Pierre shared, how they participate in the occult one day and then go to church and honestly think they have done Christian activities.  He has a burden for teaching and instructing local pastors on Christian theology basics that can form a line of sound biblical basis’ to address these and other issues.

Another interesting thing about Pierre, he truly believes that the salvation of Haiti will only come through being taught the things of Jesus by Haitians.  He has noted that when organizations come into the country to give and share the gospel the Haitians are motivated to feign salvation in order to gain the approval and giving gestures of the people doing the ministering.  Their motivation is not to get saved, it is to be in a position of getting more.  He firmly believes that the sharing of the gospel by a Haitian national will be more effective because the message is given on their ground with their terms with no conditions.  That way God can meet them on their own turf with no pre-conceived notions that they will get something other than God’s promises. 

Pierre has found inroads into Haitian TV and radio.  He has done many programs that are aired throughout Port au Prince and the neighboring communities.  He also holds what we would call ‘tent meetings’ in order to get his message out and preach the Gospel.  His goals are to open a location in Haiti to teach the local pastors basic theology and to help rebuild churches of honest pastors that have been destroyed in the earthquake.

Unfortunately, our visit was short as it was late on Friday and he was leaving in the morning for a week long orientation in the States with SP.  I would be interested in visiting with Pierre again before I leave.  He seems to be the first man I’ve run across that believes that the NGO’s should cut back on their giving and work closer in teaching the nationals the basics of God’s Word so they can be the ones to spread the message of God’s redemption for man.

It is an interesting concept, one that I lean towards understanding and supporting.  It will be interesting to watch where this man goes.

The Legend of the Golden Rebar

The Legend of the Golden Rebar

Almost all of the structures in Haiti are concrete and masonry in construction.  I suppose it has to do with the tropical climate which means lots of rain and lots of bugs.  That means mold, mildew, termites and moisture, all of which are deadly to wood.  So concrete works quite well.  It reduces the complications to mold and mildew.  All the concrete buildings also have rebar in it.  Rebar is nothing more than sticks of steel, from three eights inch to three quarter inch in diameter.  It has a rough exterior so it binds well to the concrete, that is, if you used a good grade concrete.  When used properly with a good grade of concrete it increases the strength of the structure by a large factor.  When used with poor concrete, like Haitian concrete, it helps hold things together but at a lesser integrity.  When used with crushed coral, which has salt in it, it ends up giving a nice rust color to the inside of the concrete, and that’s about all.

Since the concrete world in Haiti is limited to cement, crushed coral with salt and other filler material like dirt and sand, the Haitians in their infinite understanding of structural steel figure that if a little works, a lot must work better.  It has, therefore, become expedient, in many respects, to use the jackhammer attachment on the excavator in order to separate the vast amounts of rebar from the granular glue called concrete.  I suppose the normal bucket would work in many instances but, as in the case of the church project, extra rebar thrown in for good measure was accentuated by extra concrete; not that it was any better quality, just more of it; a good two feet of it in places.





Looking out the window of my excavator. The hammer is in front of me, Francois is on the other unit.

The jackhammer attachment is very useful in the demolition project.  It makes short order in separating the weak concrete from the many, many, many sticks of tightly bound rebar.  Sometimes, though, it is a challenge to separate the smaller blobs of concrete that adhere too well.  They scoot around underneath the hammer bit and tend to challenge the focus of the operator.  Distractions add tension to that concentration and can make, even the most even keeled machinist, into a crazy man.


Looking down on the work project. Rebar encased concrete pillars lie in front of Francois

 The first thing I noticed as I pounded the concrete was the strange insurgence of Haitians nearby.  Their numbers grew exponentially with each pounding of the concrete bit.  I soon realized that the Haitians think each piece of rebar is made of gold.  They are quite willing to sacrifice their own life for the opportunity to yank a short section from the hammer bit as soon as it is set free from its concrete encasement.  I know this sounds ludicrous, but it is a reality that I experienced as I watched them dodge my two ton hammer to accomplish their goal.

The rebar cannot really be straightened out for anything useful.  Its only value is in scrap.  I suppose since it is said that there are no jobs for the nationals in Haiti that this is one viable way to earn income; obtain the rebar at any cost and resell it.  Unfortunately, that is exactly what they do.



More concrete pillars needing to be crushed. Some rebar is visible just left of center towards the bottom of the photo.



As I crushed concrete up I was swamped by Haitians running around all parts of the demo reach of the equipment.  I asked the crew to keep them away, but to no avail; there were simply too many of them, and this was gold for the taking.  I tried to move the rebar away from the work location but there was too much of the golden material to be found.  They descended on the fallen pillars like chickens to a feed bag of corn, pecking at them with small hammers, trying to beat me to the precious metal.  As I worked my way down the foundational pillars I would have to move concrete around.  As it was all tied together by rebar any movement by the excavator moved concrete forty or fifty feet away; along with anyone pounding on it.  It was dangerous for them; all the crews’ yelling, waving arms, ordering them out and trying to cordon them off proved fruitless.  Robert could only encourage me to be careful and continue working.

After understanding their desperation I came across an interesting way of getting them to work with me.  When I pulled a chunk of rebar out and moved away for a second, they would pounce on it like hungry wolves.  I would immediately return to that section and pound the hammer into the rebar pinning it to the ground.  Then I would look at them and wait.  When they finally moved away I would resume pounding on it.  If they came closer I would stop again.  When I first started this they couldn’t grasp the concept so we had a Mexican standoff for a few minutes.  I finally shut of the excavator gave them a cold stare and waited.  They finally wandered off and I continued.  When I had all the chunks off of the rebar section I would lay on the horn, grab it with the hammer and swing it out of the way behind me. 

This evening, at days’ end, I think they were finally getting the idea.  Don’t mess with the crazy guy on the excavator with blond hair.  He’ll make you wait.  But in the end, you’ll still get a little gold.

I'll be happy to share the gold, just don't mess with me

The Church Project

The Church Project

And so it began.

Today was an early start. The rubble crew was supposed to leave base at 6:30 for Port au Prince.  We were starting the large church demo project up there.  Everything was loaded the night before and orders were given for this morning  so it was going to be a streamlined departure.  Too bad it didn’t turn out that way.

In the morning we found that the tractor that was hauling the excavator had dead batteries.  There is an apparent power drain in the circuit and I haven’t had time to find it; so we spent the first thirty minutes charging the batteries to the tractor off of the dump truck.  Once started, someone noticed a large slash in the front tire.  Good thing is, it was noticed, as it could have been bad had it blown out on the road.  The nationals jumped into action and did a warp speed replay of the ‘To Change a Tire’ routine.  It was like watching a sped up video of something you’ve already seen in normal speed; only louder, faster talk, and quicker moves … and done in under an hour. 

The drive to the church was relatively uneventful since I am used to the crazy driving, crazy drivers and crazy traffic.  Yes, I drove; to and from.  But it was okay.  I managed and only lost my cool a couple of times; the KIA has an anemic horn that sounds like the squeaker on a deflated rubber chicken so I really don’t think anyone noticed.  The guys in the back might have been a little green from my Haitian style driving, but we all survived.

Once we arrived near the church, the excavator was unloaded in the street and then driven, or should I say threaded, down a narrow, steep dead end road.  Vendors had to move their baskets of wares so Francois would fit, the boom had to be constantly monitored to avoid the many low wires and phone lines and informal measuring of the tracks had to watched to avoid additional racing stripes on the sides of the many vehicles parked on either side of the road.

Little windy Haitian dead end



As we finally grated the excavator to a halt in front of the church we were met by six or seven ‘dignitaries’ from America who had arranged, financed and pushed the church project though.  Hands were vigorously pumped in thanks, photos were taken and slaps on the back expressing the great appreciation to us was expressed.  It felt odd meeting these white collared, perfectly groomed business and political people who made this project happen. 

After the photo ops, the real work began.  We brought one excavator from base with the jackhammer attachment on the boom.  Francois began working his way into the debris field, knocking down the corner building and working his way into the church interior.  A couple of hours later the second excavator was brought in.  It is a new unit, identical to the first one, but it is new and was just released from the Port Authority just before Christmas.  I took over the hammer while Francois started arranging the piles with the new one. 



And so it begins ....

I was surprised how quick my skills re-emerged from their dormancy.  I was reticent, at first, to work the equipment because there were so many people watching and I had never used a jack hammer before.  But after ten minutes I could do about whatever I wanted with the tool.  It will take a little longer to be as versatile with moving the excavator around, but I’ll have time to work on that tomorrow.

Lunch break around 12:30 was the standard fare of MRE’s; meals ready to eat.  Mine was chicken something or other; at least I knew what the meat was, the rest of it was recognizable.  Also had crackers, cheese, a cookie and some M&M’s – peanut.  Those were the best!

After lunch we did another couple hours of work and then loaded up to return home.  It is a long commute and we got back to base at 4:30.

Crazy driving

I’m excited that I got to have some time on the excavator.  It feels good to know that I can remember how to run this stuff; even though I’ve not run this particular piece.  The knowledge seems quite similar, though, to what I’ve done before.  Tomorrow we start loading rubble into the trucks and continue our demolition. 

It will be fun. 

Things I Will Miss When I Leave Haiti

Things I Will Miss When I Leave Haiti

Believe it or not, there are some peculiar things here in Haiti that I will miss when I leave.

 One in particular is the tap taps.  As mentioned in a prior entry, these are the intrastate people movers of Haiti.  These overcrowded, underpowered, stinky, noisy, unmaintained contraptions of transport are a major portion of Haiti’s economic survival.  They provide cheap and abundant rides ranging from down the street to across the country.  The operators are lousy drivers and have a love affair with their horns, but they are also some of the most creative artisans found in the country.  Each one of these wheeled contraptions has a unique paint scheme identifying it as a tap tap.  One can see words of blessing, wisdom, cathedral scenes of Christ’s ascension, death, resurrection; all sorts of scenes pertaining to Catholicism intermingled with color schemes and paint designs that would make Van Gogh and Picasso tilt their head and wonder. It is a part of their culture, part of who they are.  Nothing like it exists in the States except, perhaps, the collection of graffiti one sees on the railroad tanker and box cars as they rumble by at a rail crossing.  In a country full of seemingly disorder, trash and chaos, one can always know that that mosaic of dynamic colors careening at you is really your friend, your means of transport to or from your destination.

I have never really cared to travel much to other countries.  It seems that the people either scowl or frown at any move you make.  Disturbingly, I find this more and more in my own home country.  It seems odd, therefore, that a similar reception in Haiti is instantly changed to a white, pearly smile when you wave and give a thumb’s up signal.  I’ve seen nationals look askance at my presence, but when I present a friendly wave or give the universal signal that everything is cool; the inevitable ‘thumbs up’ sign, they mystically break into a huge smile.  Another thing about the Haitians, they have the prettiest smiles of anyone I have ever seen.  Their teeth are most often perfect, large and bleachy white.  Their faces light up with a brilliance seldom seen in others and their eyes glow with a sudden burst of happiness.  It is a strange marvel that surpasses understanding given the conditions they live.  But it is a fact with only a few exceptions, such as those with a hand out or a demand not met that these people seem to want to smile.  We could learn a lesson from that.

Haiti is a green country.  Granted, it has been stripped of its quality trees from the hills and there is a brown void on many hillsides, but, there is tropical vegetation that bursts out in a variety of green that lacks description.  Palm trees, sugar cane, coconut trees, banana trees, mangos, heavy grasses and an abundance of assorted fruit abound in both cultivated and wild areas.  Yes, there is the trash that captures the attention; there is the dirt and pollution that vies for the eye; there are rudimentary structures that are called homes; but it is iconic that such a dichotomy can exist; lush green vegetation amidst such ruin both in structure and in life.

I suppose it is good that there is such a plurality of green.  It brings hope in multiple ways, everywhere one looks.  And for a place so distraught, that is a reminder that God is still watching.  After all, where there are people, there can also be God’s love.

The Little Things

Little Things

There are many things that we take for granted.  Here, in Haiti, I discover more and more things every week I am here.

We actually had rain last night.  And also on Sunday, it rained.  There was no thunder or lightning, just a steady downpour that kept coming and coming.  It made me want to stay under cover, like the tin roof at the kitchen.  Of course, that sounded like someone rattling steel balls in a coffee can, but it was better than being soaked; which I was anyone since I was working outside on the grease trap when it started.  As I waited for it to stop it struck me that there was no lightning or the resonating boom from the following thunder.  I missed that.  Back in Indiana the kids and I used to sit on the front porch and eagerly await the ominous storms approach.  It was accentuated by flashes of white light following by the inevitable rumbling or crack of instant ear shattering sound. It all depended on how far away the strike was.  As I grew older I recognized more of the danger involved in those intense storms.  I now seek sturdier cover than the front porch, but, alas, I still think of those days with a smile.

I think the rain shorted one of the voltage regulators in the generator.  Toby was able to put another one it last night, but it was conditional.  The generator would run, but only at half voltage since the one he put in was defective from the start.  As a result three of the tents on that generator had to give up their air conditioning for the day.  Not too bad a deal, as I spent most of the day on the air conditioned loader anyway.  But when I returned at the end of the day and opened the door to the tent I was welcomed by a hot blast of air.  These tents really do get hot during the day.  Toby started the AC units back up after five so it is nice and cool as I write this.  Makes me appreciated the reliability of the electric grid at home; and air conditioning.

The other trade off for having electricity to the offices was that the tents got to go without internet until this evening.  Bummer; couldn’t check email, news, weather or facebook.  I’m far from a techie geek like some people I know, but, I never thought I’d say this, I missed all the above.  Tonight I’m glad the internet is back on.

It is quite hot here during the day.  Each day is a close race in getting to 95 degrees.  Today was probably 94, so it was cooler; by a hair on the thermometer.  Even so, the sudden burst of chilling cold water from the shower head makes me inhale like it was ice water.  Tonight I once again grimaced at the thought that water piped in from Antarctica was going to spray generously over me.  It did, and, as usual, I had a very short run of it.  But now it is a piece of history as I can now complain to my blog that I miss hot water.

On occasion, I have driven.  When I first got here the memories of careening around motorbikes and playing chicken with a fifteen ton Tap Tap overloaded with people, sugarcane, chickens and other mundane cargo highly discouraged me from ever getting behind the wheel of anything that moved.  In fact, I declined Travis’ offer to drive for a month and a half before I wrote my will and took the keys to something with four wheels.  It really isn’t that bad.  The key is learning to drive like them.  Be stupid, take chances and drive as fast as your vehicle can possibly go.  Learn to love the horn and keep close to your heart the Great Haitian Motto, ‘they will move’.  Actually, I’ve driven a Kia truck with a diesel motor that responds like a snail on sleeping pills, a loader that wiggle waggles like a drunken sailor, and a triaxle dump truck that sounds like the Queen Mary coming in to dock.  I like the truck the best.  It has the loudest horn.

There is an abundance of little things that pop up on a daily basis.  I miss eating with my family.  It’s nice to have common humor around the table and not have to worry about saying something wrong.  It is also different to watch movies with family.  Everyone is comfortable to laugh at silly things that others’ might not think funny.  I miss taking walks with my wife in the evenings.  Here, there is no one to share thoughts during the day, hold a hand or just be happy to be with one who gives unconditional love.

I suppose it is good to be denied so many little things because, in the long run, I will appreciate and savor them all the more when I come back.

New Years Eve Day

New Years Eve Day

It was a usual day other than I slept in an extra hour since we were off for the holiday weekend.  I was going to accompany Robert over to the church he is building to bring the borrowed cement mixers back to base.  He started attending this small congregation a number of months ago via an interpreter who attends there.  Over time he felt compelled to help them build a church building to meet in since they had none and were holding church for the sixty or so members under a large makeshift tent.  He drummed up support from contacts back in North Carolina and, with their monetary gifts, started construction the week before last.  The rubble crew brought in a large amount of river gravel for base material and Francois spread it with the excavator.  Last week the cement crew that had done the pads at the base expansion took three or four days to pour the concrete floor and establish the columns for the block.  Now, everything is curing and Robert is planning the next phase, which will be concrete block.

Meanwhile, we loaded two of the mixers on the back of our flatbed truck and, with the third in tow, headed back to base.  As we slowly made our way down the oversized goat path to the main road we passed eight or ten Haitians cutting sugar cane in a field.  When they saw us they raised their hands in that ‘help me’ pose and started yelling at us.  They seemed angry as we passed by.  I asked Gene what they had said and he replied, they said they had been working all morning and were thirsty; they wanted water from us.  I was dumbfounded and wondered why we were supposed to be responsible for their water needs.

On the way back we passed through the market section of a small town.  It was crowded from the New Years Eve shoppers and took us thirty or so minutes to travel the half mile stretch.  It gave me time to really see what the vendors had for sale.  I suppose it was almost the same as a super Wal-Mart without the presentation.  Almost any small household item was there along with assorted vegetables and grains, packaged foods and all types of clothing and shoes.  The only thing I saw not available in Wal-Mart was the live turkey’s.  At the end of the day everyone packs up their products and goes home.  It leaves the marketplace an empty shell of trash and rickety wood shelters.  But today, it was unbelievable activity of shoppers and sellers.

After unloading the mixers at base we had some late lunch then I spent some time in the tent cooling off from the 95 degree heat.

Later that evening a group of 30 volunteers from the States who had been working at the Lamb Center this past week came over for the evening festivities.  They were younger, late teens early twenties, and carried the vitality and energy … and noise … that that age group brings.  John and some helpers prepared a special dinner of brats, hot dogs, brats and lobster for dinner.  He had contracted with a local to provide us with almost 50 spiny lobsters for about four bucks each.  The dining room was crowded that night and the 15 staff were quizzed about their mission and experiences in Haiti but a younger generation wanting to catch the vision.

After dinner many lingered in the kitchen just wanting to feel a part of something.  After a season I ventured over to the helipad for my evening stargazing.  I wondered about the experience with the sugar cane workers earlier that day and tried to reconcile the mission of helping others versus enabling those same people to become dependent on that help to the point of demanding it.  It is a tough question in such a country as this. 

I went to bed early after visiting on Skype with some of my family.  At midnight I was awakened by fireworks exploding overhead and cheers and laughter for the bringing in 2012.  I lay there listening, waiting for the commotion to die down so I could resume my sleep. 

My thoughts wandered about the passage of time throughout 2011:  My time in California last New Years relocating my mom to an assisted living facility; my struggles at Colorado College trying to find purpose and satisfaction in my work there; the extensive remodeling of our home; my mom’s passing away, closing down her home in California and learning to deal with that large void in my life; staying in touch with my family and trying to resume a normal life that was anything but normal; doing a family vacation and then a trip to Madison to see Michelle’s mom; considering the Haitian Adventure and then living it …. I wondered what the coming year would bring and how much and where I wanted to invest my time.

Sleep overcame me before I reached a suitable answer to those thoughts and questions.  But this morning I’m looking forward to going home in a month. I’m excited about seeing my wife, my kids (all of them – that means spouses, too), catching up on movies, cooking out, seeing the mountains, eating out and all that other fun stuff.  I’ll watch the year 2012 unfold day by day and be extra sensitive to what God is showing me each moment.  And if it includes going back to Haiti or some other destination for a similar purpose, he’ll just have to work in my heart accordingly. 

He did it once, I can’t say he won’t do it again.

Happy New Year.