Delmas
For the next week, Kevin settles into his new living arrangements at Tim’s house. Protestant Radio has a small FM station in the Petionville neighborhood, just a few miles up the mountain from Delmas. Kevin doesn’t have access to any of the station’s vehicles, so he’s always hitching rides back and forth to Petionville for Creole lessons and to work at the FM station. Tim and his wife finally agree to let Kevin use their Yamaha motorcycle for local trips, if Kevin can get it running and wears a helmet.
Kevin learns that the house’s caretaker / guard is named Fritz. He speaks English and is also an excellent mechanic. Fritz helps Kevin clean the Yamaha’s carburetor, replace the fuel filter, gap the spark plugs, and the 175 cc engine is now running better than ever. Fritz gives Kevin some tips for surviving on Haiti’s roads. “No one likes the motorcycle riders down here, because so many zenglando attacks are by men on motorbikes.” Fritz cautions, “The other drivers will run you over if they get a chance. Don’t weave in and out of traffic or someone will stop that real quick.” Fritz gives Kevin a heavy chain, “If you’re not riding it, keep it chained to something immovable. In Haiti, there’s an assumption that if you don’t secure your property, you must not need it as much as the next guy!”
In a country with almost total functional illiteracy, radio and newspapers are the only source of news. Most of those are in French (as is the education system), so radio remains the best way to communicate in Haitian Creole, the language that everyone speaks. The majority of radio stations in Haiti are run by either Catholic priests or Protestant pastors. Since radio is the best way for Haiti’s government to communicate with its citizens, radio stations must balance journalistic integrity with survival, since there are no legal protections for the press. Kevin has a small short-wave receiver, battered and stained with mosquito spray, that he uses to monitor BBC, Voice of America, and the English version of Agence France Presse.
Kevin is in Haiti on loan from his US-based NGO (NGO Peace) to a consortium of Haitian Religious radio stations. He’ll provide technical support to the Haitian Protestant and Catholic radio stations. But since Protestant Radio’s gear is the oldest and least maintained it’s the priority, with Tim as his day-to-day manager. NGO Peace coordinated all this via the Haitian exile community in Washington, DC. After all the agreements were complete, Kevin was sent to DC for cultural and language immersion. The language part didn’t stick. But in the run up to Aristide’s election and frantic scramble for election results, he learned about the history of US intervention in Haiti.
Since US media outlets had little presence outside of Port-au-Prince, most reporting from the provinces was is in Haitian Creole. A young Haitian man named Gustavo started his own pirate radio station for Creole listeners in the DC area. Kevin was able to help with the technical setup and Gustavo taught him some tricks for FM line-of-sight radio transmission in mountainous or urban terrain. Gustavo’s source materials were received directly from Haitian resistance contacts, who were often on the run or in hiding from Tonton Macoute death squads.
While in DC, Kevin built a list of Haitian journalists, labor organizers, and priests who he can contact throughout Haiti. Gustavo also introduced him to his Haitian contact for the news materials. The Haitian-American man travels frequently between DC and Port-au-Prince for his import/export business. Since postal air mail is neither reliable nor secure, he’s been Gustavo’s channel to exchange documents and cassette tapes between the US and Haiti. Kevin doesn’t ask for more details, but gets the man’s card with local Port-au-Prince address and phone/fax.
As emergency repairs allow, Kevin is training Haitian technicians to maintain the equipment and perform troubleshooting after he leaves. Protestant Radio is owned and funded by a board of Haitian pastors in Cayes, about half a day drive from the main station in Carrefour. The Protestant Radio board readily agreed to host Kevin, because the current system of visiting American engineers is too expensive and sporadic to be sustainable. Tim “agrees” with the arrangement, because he reports to the board. But as he says to Kevin, “We’ve tried training Haitians before. As soon as they become capable, they leave for a higher paying job.” Kevin asks, “Wouldn’t a few pay raises solve that problem?” Tim snorts, “Oh, sure. But then we’ll have every other employer angry at us for raising wages!”
Kevin spends most of his time in Delmas or Petionville. These communities have better infrastructure and are at a higher elevation than downtown Port-au-Prince, so the mosquitos, heat, and humidity are much less oppressive. But modern conveniences require maintenance. Tim’s wife and kids have explained the rules to maintain the house’s electrical and water systems and to avoid water-borne illnesses. Five-minute showers at most, with no hot water other than what’s been solar heated in the water drums installed on the house’s roof. Refrigerator door must never be left open. The freezer never gets cold enough to freeze anything, so it’s filled with water jugs. The family taught him a sort of sing-song nursery rhyme on his first day, “Never ask for ice. Always drink from the bottle. Unless the ice cubes say Culligan!” Since Kevin experienced Haitian happiness digestive distress during his fact-finding trip the previous year, he sings along each time.
Tim is showing Kevin the elaborate electrical system of batteries, backup power units, solar panels, and a small Honda gasoline generator. “We only get a few hours of electricity per day, so it’s important that the charging leads be attached to the battery system at all times. I don’t like the kids trying to connect the cables, so make sure everything is connected before you leave the house”. Kevin asks, “When do you think the power will be back to normal? I thought they were cutting power to enforce the curfews or something.” Tim laughs, “I’ve been here ten years and this is normal. Wait until you see the generator system at the radio station. There was never good utility service in Carrefour, so we just built our own.”
Kevin looks at Tim with confusion, “Why can’t the power company keep the power on?” Tim thinks a bit and replies, “Well, it’s never been great but the Iraq War has caused prices of fuel to skyrocket on the open market. National Power can only afford to provide electricity to the city after paying bribes to get diesel into their generators. Then, protection money to keep the copper on the power lines and out of the scrap yards. That leaves us with two-hour rolling blackouts across a city with a population the size of Maryland.
As Tim shuts the door to the utility closet, his teenage daughters come into the kitchen with their backpacks and Walkman headphones over their ears. Tim gets the attention of Susan, the oldest, and says “You’re not going to be able to drive to Mission School. I need the Isuzu. I’ll be taking Kevin over to Carrefour and expect to be there all day. You’ll have to hitch a ride with your mother.” Susan sighs but replies, “Yes, Dad. Mom will make sure we get there safely.” His younger daughter rolls her eyes and says, “We could walk there in ten minutes!” Tim turns to her, “Karen, we’re still in safety mode and you know that. Please take this seriously. No walking on these streets. Your mother will pick you up at the Mission. Just do your homework while you wait.”
Tim leads Kevin from the kitchen out into the attached car port / garage, to a tangle of pipes and hoses attached to cement wall. “Make sure these hoses don’t have any air bubbles in them, because then the siphon feed doesn’t work. If you see any, just open this valve and release some water into the drain. That will get the flow going again.” Kevin just shakes his head, “This is all so the water filtration system doesn’t run dry?” Tim nods, “You got it. Nothing worse than returning from the field to find dry water lines.”
Iron Market, Downtown
Having just arrived in a country without a functioning government, Kevin settles into a gray area between undocumented, illegal immigrant and short-term visitor visa. As do most of the expatriate-NGO types who operate without adult (aka US governmental) oversight. No one considers the Haitian government, the utility companies, or banks to be anything other than monopolistic cartels. Local custom is to rely on the black market for everything.
Since NGO Peace has not been recognized by Haiti’s government, they cannot open any bank accounts in Haiti. Instead, NGO Peace channels funds to Kevin through his US personal checking account for exchange into the local currency, Gourdes. Kevin and Tim are leaving a downtown market. Tim has introduced him to an “Arab”, North African merchant who will provide an exchange US dollars for Haitian gourdes at 90% to the official exchange rate, even when exchanging a personal check. While Kevin doesn’t fully understand all the signals, it’s clear that he’s being inducted into some sort of secret, unspoken arrangement where collateral has already been exchanged. But no one is asking many questions, because the alternative is the National Bank that takes 20% before taxes, fees, and mandatory “tips”.
Tim is pulling along a luggage wagon, stacked with heavy marine deep-cycle batteries, lanterns, water containers of all sizes, 5-gallon buckets with lids, and several gallons of the flat black paint used to coat 55-gallon drums of water on rooftop solar water heaters. Kevin is lugging along a 5-gallon jerrycan filled with kerosene, the lid leaking badly. No cigarettes can be lit until the can is safely stowed in the Trooper’s luggage bay. They maneuver around piles of coconuts, hand-made leather work, colorful paintings, and swarms of naked children chasing each other around everything while their older friends use the distraction to thieve a few loaves of bread. Women glide by in brightly colored dresses, balancing piles of textiles and baskets on their heads.
Making sure not to knock over any of the merchant stalls, they make their way back to the parked Isuzu. Tim paid a street kid 5 gourde to watch the vehicle. Kevin can’t remember where they Isuzu is, but recognizes the kid’s Montreal Expos shirt as he follows Tim around a corner. Kevin is happy to see the vehicle is still where they left it. Montreal Expos sees them coming, nods to Tim, and then disappears into the crowd. As they load the Trooper Kevin asks, “When are you going to let me take custody of the station’s little 4WD Lada?” Tim doesn’t reply, so Kevin continues, “Why isn’t anyone using it. It’s not half as rusty as most of the other SUV’s?” Tim quickly replies, “Oh! That thing. I don’t know where we got that Russian eye-sore, but no one even knows how to start it. We’ll probably just sell it for parts. But not even the Cubans want them.” They get in the Isuzu. Kevin reaches for the seat belt out of habit before rolling down the window instead.