Blog Post Three

Everyone is up before 6am, it’s still dark outside. A pinky hue begins to color the sky while Justin and Eric prepare coffee.

The place we are staying is a creepy unfinished hotel owned by the mayor and offered for our use. Large cracks chase their way down the exterior walls and these have been filled with cement and patched over. How structurally sound it is I cannot say; we opt to stay outside under an open pavilion. Empty in-ground pools, rubble, and building equipment encircle the compound. The bathrooms don’t have running water or doors. Actually there are no doors in the entire building…or windows for that matter, only uncovered openings to the outside. The halls are oddly wide and the doorways oddly narrow; we actually can’t quite figure out what this place could be used for. The bathroom stalls also have no doors, so we prop the only door around over the opening that is, of course, too small.

At our planning meeting to prepare for clinic today, we discuss the need to split into two groups. One hiking hours to hold a clinic in the remote mountain community of Kaylouis, and the other staying in Cherette at the base of the mountain. We asked for volunteers to hike three hours to hold a clinic in this isolated area and to our great surprise everyone votes to hike. We come to an agreement on who would stay with Dr. Devilmar in Cherette, load up the trucks, and move out.

Coconut palms are silhouetted against the bright morning sky, a section of coastline shimmers quickly in and out of view. We pass over a cement bridge that doesn’t appear very sound, but is not much longer than the truck itself. Taro grows in the center of the stream and motorbikes pull into the shallows for a wash. I really believe these country bikes are cleaner than their city kin.

On the way we pass a market set up on either side of the road. Two women nail a loose board back in place with a rock, the next stand boasts a colorful array of liquid soap, an enterprising young man displays wooden crates in which other shop owners can arrange their produce. We stop the truck and ask for kenèp. Dr. D. haggles with the women and secures a full bag of our favorite fruit, two small watermelons, and two great hands of apple bananas; we agree on a price: $4 for everything.

Arriving in Cherette, we look for a spot to set up the radio tower. Justin climbs a tree like he was born up there. It’s a little far from the building and our wires don’t quite reach. We set up the radio tower on the roof of the clinic, it’s not quite as elevated, but an easy to access flat surface.

I find shade under a Neem tree and hollow seed shells fall all around me. I look up to see birds feasting in the branches and dropping the unwanted skins, resembling green grapes, down on me.

At last the mountain crew heads out on the hike. The smiling, youthful face of Obenson greets us on the trail. He was one of the young people who helped our team on the last trip and he is eager to join us again today. He excitedly asks after teammates he met the last time and asks if I speak Creole.

At the river crossing I jump from rock to rock trying not to get my feet wet, the second river crossing I attempt the same with some assistance, the third I takeoff my shoes and put them on again, the fourth my foot slips and I’m not able to keep it dry, the fifth I realize there are going to be many more of these; I give up and wade right in. By the 6th river crossing my Garmin buzzes that I have reached my daily elevation goal; thee more and the watch face explodes with fireworks—alerting me that my activity level is higher than usual.

Leo finds a dead snake in the path and brings it along to scare Delice. It produces the desired effect and the guys double over with laughter.

Along the way the locals point out where landslides and falling rock killed passersby and where they still remain, crushed beneath the rubble. It is stated very matter of factly—part of the history of this land that shouldn’t be.

A man at a treadle sewing machine glances up from his work, we wave hello. Another man emerges from the dense undergrowth carrying a stalk of plantains. A little girl swallowed by a large grey sweatshirt follows us, a mule laden with charcoal passes us, a scrawny rooster stands in our path and makes an attempt to be menacing. We pass goats, sheep, dogs, and a cow. A goat screams in the distance and I remember why they are called kids.

We arrive in Kaylouis at 11:34 dripping with sweat, an hour before I thought we would, exhausted from the last uphill push. The rest of the team finally catches up and we start seeing the patients who have materialized before our eyes. Word of mouth really does spread fast here.

We are hosting clinic in a church at the top of the hill. The walls are pepto pink, the structure being severely damaged by the quake. The floor is heaved up in sections, rubble and pieces of silk flower decorations litter the floor. We hold a clinic amidst the rubble and a cacophony of voices. Leo directs people where to sit and explains the process of things.

This place that should represent safety is laid waste, yet even in its broken state it’s still a place of healing—what it was always meant to be.

A woman at the window tries to communicate something to me, but all the translators are busy. She gestures up the mountain and all I understand is “medication”. I say: “yes, we are holding clinic here” and gesture in the direction of the doctors. I join Justin and Delice in climbing up the hillside to check on a couple of patients they saw the last time. Local kids guide the way; something is lost in translation because after scampering down multiple switchbacks of a little goat trail we arrive at the valley floor to find we’ve come the wrong way. When we said we needed to check on “the old lady” they understood “little baby”. Slowly we explain again, heads nod, and we retrace our steps up the mountainside. We pass coffee beans drying on a rock in the sun next to a spreading mango tree. Just beyond here we get to the woman’s house. She is paralyzed from the waist down.

Justin and Delice enter the dark hut, with woven grass walls, to see how the patient is doing. I sit down and the woman who tried to communicate with me at the clinic window appears and exclaims with delight that we had understood the message. She then proceeds to recount her mothers ailments with animated gestures, dramatizing the details for our full comprehension. A girl of about 10 emerges from behind a straw hut wearing only a skirt and caring a naked baby. I ask to take her picture and she nods shyly. Kids up in these rural communities are very different from even the bottom of the mountain. They are wide-eyed and friendly, open and sweet.

We get back to clinic by a more direct route and I hand out fruit bars to the crew.
Delice shows me a little girl in the clinic who they saw the last time. Her foot was badly infected and the medical staff had to debride the wound. Her father was in so much pain over his little girl’s pain, that he had to leave the room. Jenae told me later that she is used to treating patients and managing their pain, it’s when the family is in pain on behalf of the patient that she has a hard time. After debriding the wound, the team suggested she needed further medical attention and her father and uncle carried her down the mountain when our team left. Today she is back in the clinic in a little red dress with her foot almost entirely healed. Her father is beaming, I think he just came back to say thank you. Later he comes by with a bag of coconuts which we cut open with a machete and pass around to the team in the clinic. When we are leaving, we offer him payment, but he refuses. His gratitude knows no bounds.

For the sake of time we had pulled everyone off of pharmacy to open another consult station, now patients waiting for their prescriptions have backed up and everyone is clamoring to be first. We realize that we didn’t write their numbers on the prescriptions and take note for one more thing to fix for next time.

A chubby babe in arms rests on his mothers hip, a baseball cap on his head and his little belly protruding from a snug shirt. A little girl waits with her mom for a prescription; she is wearing sparkly red Dorothy shoes and carrying a Mary Poppins umbrella; I appreciate her style.

We are all tired and ready for food. It’s been a long day, but we feel accomplished and lighter on the way down. We had hired porters to hike our medical gear up the mountain and they have stayed with us all day. Dr. Coty slipped on the first river crossing and injured her knee. Insisting on continuing the entire way, she made it to the top but was struggling. We decided to hire a horse to take her down the mountain to prevent further injury. However, as we were descending she slipped off the horse and decided she was better off managing with her injured knee.

On our second-to-last river crossing, we pass an enormous voodoo tree. Painted blue around the base of the trunk and it’s long branches extend to the middle
of the river. This is a Mapou tree, locals tell us the tree is more than 1,000 years old. We stop for a swim and float in the refreshing current.

We pass a group of children playing soccer, a couple PVC pipes stuck in the ground serve as goal posts. Kicking the deflated ball our way, a couple of our team jumps in to join them.

The sun sets as we drive back. I am soaking wet from my swim and hop in the bed of the pickup. I look up at the starry night sky noting the mesmerizing Milky Way, not visible in the city. This was probably my favorite day in Haiti yet.