As I enter my last few weeks here, I keep thinking about how to answer that inevitable question from people back home:
“So, tell me about Haiti. What’s it like?”
I came to the conclusion that it was impossible to answer, and I hold tightly onto the precious few weeks I have left not just because I utterly adore being here, but because they are all that is between me and facing going back.
I got into a conversation with a very experienced colleague here one night when we were both on the same page at the same time, preparing for that moment the plane lands back home and feeling it hit the ground, hard. She told me something she did was stopped trying to describe Haiti with sentences and long descriptions, and to feel it with the five senses. I thought I’d take a shot at it, with the disclaimer that this is a partial list since my senses are permanently on overload, so here goes.
Haiti is to me…
The sight of
Searing sunsets, half city lights on load-sharing, coloured markets, tap-tap scrambles, debris, flattened buildings, scars, sores and skin diseases weaving patterns like fingerprints on the bodies of the displaced, naked children, new school clothes, yesterday’s unwashed clothes, desert land, blue tarpaulins, twilight, yellow cash-for-work t-shirts, UN trucks, US military troops, washing on the line, torn clothes under rubble, red nail varnish, bolette booths, staring faces, trees, combats, relief vests, heavy boots, knock-off medicines, bare feet, kites, stars, concrete, dappled sunlight, traffic jams, dusty streets, empty eyes, food rations, spreadsheets, mud, brown rivers, blocked water channels, fractured houses, dirty cooking pots, white beaches, amputees, used condoms, bright billboards, crowded camps, children playing, water bottles, first aid kits, queues, port-a-cabins, bustling meetings, sunglasses, branded baseball caps, mountains, supermarkets, roadside stalls, pleading hands, people praying, building new from old.
The smell of
Heat, burning rubbish, fresh flowers, fresh fruit, dirty latrines, mashed potato and chicken, grapefruit juice and sugar, hot stale urine, recycled air, suntan lotion, sweat, unwashed clothes, hand sanitiser, coffee, mouldy showers, mud, grilled fish, Deet, cigarette smoke, petrol, washing powder, Babancourt, struck matches, lemongrass deodorant, cleaning fluid, people who didn’t quite make it out in time.
The sounds of
Gunshots, thunder, helicopters, generators, guards talking in low voices, car horns, dogs barking, noisy markets, voodoo drumming, cats fighting, films in the evening, laughing, snoring, pouring rain, crickets, chickens, street vendors, heated arguments, neighbours’ parties, Internet beeping, people packing, water on plastic showers, motorbikes, broken English, fluent French, excited colleagues, Empire State of Mind, cars on gravel, office roundup, feet shuffling, pens clicking, cockerels, keys jangling, incessant ring tones, coffee cups, fans, fingers on keyboards, coughing, broken telephone connections, lights out.
The tastes of
Salty sea water, buttery potatoes, bitter chloroquine, mango smoothies, chewing gum, ripe bananas, treated water, sweet fruit juice, vitamin supplements, melted and resolidified chocolate, barbecue Pringles, cigarette smoke, rice and beans, cheap soft drinks, old cereal, untreated tank water, toothpaste, beer, UHT milk, dust in your throat, aspirin, reheated food, strong coffee, shampoo, grilled fish.
The feel of
Dusty feet, cotton, sticky palms, dry hair, laptop keys, fans, paper, tarpaulin sheets, bad headaches, freezing showers, scalding showers, freshly washed clothes, sandy beaches, mosquito nets, cold steps, leather car seats, overwhelming tiredness, potholes, a cool breeze, butterflies, dehydration, fever, warm plastic, insect bites, broken nails, aftershocks.
