Traveling through Haiti and The Dominican Republic

Our outdoor living room at Walls. They kept pulling more furniture from the rubble.

Our blog station

by Megan Cavanaugh

February 12, 2010

Yesterday = BUS. We are up with the sun rolling up our tents and giving them to Abner to pass out to people he knows who have little children and are sleeping in open fields with no shelter. We say goodbye to Veniel and the staff at Walls and thank them for giving us such a good stay - I am amazed at Veniel's resourcefulness and how almost normal our stay- within the guest house compound- seemed, if it weren't for the sight of the collapsed guest home that was constantly reminding me of the terror that recently struck here.

In the tap tap off to the bus stop for another long ride but the UN has blocked off a road so we need to take a long dirt back road that wheels us directly between two tent cities. As we discussed yesterday people are living so close together there is clearly no place for going to the bathroom, they have been using the road between the tent cities for the bathroom. The smell is horrible but the sight of the fields of people who are all living together now in a desperate situation is heart wrenching. I tuck my nose into my t-shirt and breath through my mask and think again about how people will continue to LIVE in this. Not just today or for a few days. When I am safe home back in the us sleeping in my comfy bed there will still be young mothers with their children sleeping in fields worrying about the rain.

The truck pitches to a nerve wracking angle while we try to maneuver our way down a mud hill. I've been gripping this rusty metal bar above my head so hard the last few days I have callouses. We spread our feet apart and hold tighter. I can see the headlines of a newspaper declaring out tap tap accident in my head. We get to the airport. But we are taking a bus. We explain this to the driver and realize we will miss our bus. Go with the flow there will be another.

On our drive we see a food distribution site, the first I've seen. There is a line along the edge of a huge field, it takes a 90 degree turn and continues for as far as I can see. Women will stand in this line all day in the sun with thirsty, hungry children in tow. When they have spent three hours waiting for rice they will spend another two waiting for clean water. And if they are lucky today another two waiting in line for a tent. And then in a few days they will have to repeat the first few steps over again.

20 minutes later: bus station (aka parking lot). Tickets, crowds, heat, luggage, soldiers, chaos as we finally board our bus at 10 am. We leave at 11 finally, the bus is hot from sitting in the sun. We were spoiled on our bus ride to port au prince with the air conditioning and the easy border stop. No such luck on this day. The bus is unbelievably hot.

There is an hour of traffic at the border and they make everyone who is traveling with children get off the bus and clear through a special customs to ensure all the children belong to the adult they are traveling with. Off the bus we are told. So we spend two hours in no-mans land between DR and Haiti dragging our bags off the bus into the heat of the day across the rocky parking lot and into the cement building where they are going through baggage. Total chaos. Back on the bus all Americans we are told. No one has even gone through our baggage, this was an exercise in futility.

Repack all the bags into the cargo hold, jostle through the crowd and back on the bus. I feel like we just got Punked. We can only laugh, and we do. We sit on the bus waiting. HOT. Sweating through your clothes, not just sticking to them, kind of hot.

When we leave customs finally there is a woman shouting angrily in kreyole something about a Canadian passport. The argument continues for the next hour. They pass back out all our passports, mine is the last and I've managed to not get too worked up over it before it's in my hands again. At home I would have already created three scenarios in my head for how I was going to get another passport or get home but here there is too much constant unknown for worrying about the possible problems that might occur. I can only deal with the problems that become a reality. Because when you travel in Haiti there are lots of mini adventures along the way, you've got no control over them.

I count white goats to pass some time. The sun sets and we are still on the bus, the DR looks so different than Haiti. There are trees. And real roofs. And sidewalks. It's cooler with the sun gone. We have been watching the same movie flit across the cracked TV screen for the last eight hours. There is no sound so all I've gotten out of it is that Russell Crowe has an unusually large forehead- I think his forehead is 80% of the movie- and the other 20% is Ben Affleck holding the same confused and slightly pained expression. At 8 pm, ten hours of bus time later, we arrive back in Santo Domingo. And I never want to see Russell Crowe again.

It's dark and raining. Baggage, crowds, chaos. I've got "think positive" on repeat in my head. I climb into the very back of the cargo hold of the bus to start fishing out our bags, something I'd normally never do because I'm a bit claustrophobic but I'm too tired to care about my unreasonable anxieties.

For the third time that day someone asks what day of the week it is. No one gets it right. And no one knows what time it is because we have crossed and recrossed the border so much in the last three days. As if to illustrate the differences- and problems- between the two countries the DR and Haiti refuse to share the same time zone, let alone the same language.

Papito manages to get us a taxi, though there is anger and arguing between the drivers. We check into our hotel. We try to shower but the water doesn't work. Oh well, I'm grateful just to not be bumping around. It's been a long day and we still have a lot to do. These are hard days, the traveling ones, where it would be easy to lose sight of why we are here and to feel overwhelmed because unfortunately, in order to help people and see patients there are days where you just travel. The days that you actually tangibly help people are so gratifying you do forget days like this.

So now we need to collect supplies at Papito's house and bags to repack and we haven't eaten since 8am. We go to a Dominican Chinese restaurant for dinner and I order a burrito. Cultural mish-mash. It's 10pm.

Finally back at our hotel we get into bed at almost 1 am. We have to be up at 7am to get on another bus for another 7 or 8 hours- depending on the border situation in the north- and travel to Cap Haitien. I remind myself that I have friends to see in Jacquesyl and how happy I will be to hug them and get back to work. I think positive. I try not to think about bed bugs. At least I am in a bed. Megan