Cooking WIth The Sun

Most people in these parts don't have stoves- they cook out in the open over charcoal or wood. Problem is, they have to buy that charcoal or wood, and it usually costs nearly as much as the food they cook with it. Cutting down trees takes a lot of work, as does schlepping that wood into town. And the removal of trees has contributed dramatically to catastrophic erosion, flooding and loss of topsoil.

Enter the solar oven. Ian Rawson, the President of the Board of the Hopital Albert Schweitzer, and son of Gwen Mellon, one of the Hopital's founders, brought down a simple solar oven, and let me give it a go. We assembled a casserole of veggies and seasoning and left it outside for a few hours.

That's me, putting the pot "in" the oven, Dr. Rawson explaining the oven to one of the hospital's security guards, and the final product.

Verdict? Pretty good stuff, though the potatoes were a little crunchy. Next time we'll start earlier in the day....

ps If you have $25 burning a hole in your pocket, you can buy one of these babies from Solar Cookers International (solarcookers.org). Or make a donation, and I'll bring one (or 100) down here next time I come.

They can also be used to sterilize water, which is a huge issue 'round here too...

Cotton and Carpets, Part 2

And these are the carpets!

Each one is unique, made by a single pair of hands.

Part of my mission when I get back to the U.S. will be to sell as many of these carpets as I can. Are you a stylist, or a buyer for a shop, or a shop owner? Do you know anyone who is? Or maybe you're just a person who needs a beautiful cotton rug? They would make great wedding or baby gifts....And all the proceeds go right back into expanding the business, and employing more people.

Get in touch. I got the goods...All the carpets in these pictures are available- send me a message if you want one reserved for you. There are many more, and I'll keep posting pictures.

Of Cotton and Carpets

One of the most amazing projects here in Deschapelles is the carpet business my godmother has started with her friend Luquece Belizaire.

The carpets are made entirely by hand: the cotton is planted, grown, picked, cleaned, spun, and woven without benefit of a single electric- or petroleum-powered machine. In the process, the carpet company has been able to employ 42 people, from farmers to weavers.

Those who grow the cotton are given seed (NOT sold) and guaranteed that every ounce they produce will be purchased. This area was once a great center of cotton growing, but crops have changed over the years, and people have forgotten how. Instruction and advice are available for those farmers who need it.

The old folks above clean the seeds from the cotton after it has been picked. WIthout this work they would be financial liabilities to their already-struggling families. With this work they are contributors. Luquece, who runs the day-to-day operations, pays them even when there is no cotton to clean, giving them an income they may rely on week in and week out, regardless.

The beautiful lady in the sailor blouse is Melise, the master weaver. She oversees the weaving and dying.

42 lives improved so far...

The Jolly Green Giant

This is Levy- he's the gardener down here, but really he's much more- he's a trained agronomist. All around the hospital he's started gardens- the one in these pictures is the largest and oldest. On first glace the place looks like a little park, nothing much happening, but when Levy starts explaining...mangos, papayas, bergamot (very rare in these parts) lemons, oranges, grapefruit, a cassava-like root veg I'd never heard of, and can't remember the name of. Levy's done it all himself, without chemicals, carefully using mulches and compost. The soil in these parts is "calcaire" (which means crummy) and he's slowly improved it for five years. Bravo!

Those of you who know my own horticultural tendencies can only imagine the intense joy I felt at being able to ask questions and chime in with english words for the plants and techniques he's using: one of the things I'd planned on doing while down here was scope out possibilities for starting a modest permaculture garden/project. But Levy's already done it, so I'm gonna try and help him, obvs. I'm getting teary just writing about it.

And the icing on the cake is that he so obviously loves what he does, and he's so happy sharing it with others. And he's got some of the best energy i've ever seen or felt. I heart Levy. (oh, and he's REALLY tall, ergo title of post)

ps that weird looking cut-open fruit is a cacao bud/pod/seed. We snacked on the white pod-lets inside: not like chocolate, but strange and delish...

pps some of the fruit goes to the TB patients at the hospital, to help them get their strength back. sob.

My Two Godbrothers

Voila Oleancy and Belex. We took them into St. Marc, the closest big town, yesterday, for their Baccalaureate exams, which will last 3 days for Oleancy, and four for Belex, who is graduating this year. Both will be heading up north to attend....Brooklyn College! I can't wait. They're awesome.

Belex wants to be an OB/GYN and Oleancy wants to be a rapper....

Who's the Man? Albert Schweitzer's the Man.

So, to start getting to the point (hint: it's not baby ducks...) of why I am here in Deschapelles, I thought I'd share this picture of a picture with you. This is Albert Schweitzer. There are four pictures of Albert Schweitzer in the room where I am staying. Albert Schweitzer won the Nobel Peace Price in 1952. A young man of means, Larry Mellon, saw Albert Schweitzer on the cover of Life magazine, read the article therein, and decided to do like Dr. Schweitzer.

And what had Dr. Schweitzer done? The son of a minister in Upper Alsace, born in 1875, he studied philosopy amd thoelogy at the University of Strassburg, living for a time in the same house that Goethe (!!) had occupied when he attended Strassburg. He also studied music, ( he is playing the organ in the blurry photo above). He moved to Paris to study Philosophy and organ in 1898. There, and in Berlin in 1899, he prepared his Doctorate on the work of Immanuel Kant. He became a minister, wrote a book on Bach, and was an expert on organ building.

In 1905 he resigned from his post as minister, and began attending medical school, so that he could become "a jungle doctor." "It struck me as incomprehensible that I should be allowed to lead such a happy life, while I saw so many people around me wrestling with care and suffering...I must not accept this happiness as a matter of course, but must give something in return for it...I would consider myself justified in living till I was 30 for science and art, in order to devote myself from that time forward to the direct service of humanity."

He contemplated devoting himself to "tramps and discharged prisoners" in Strassburg, but found the work he wanted to do there required the help of other individuals and organizations, and longed for "a sphere of activity to which [he] could devote [him]self as an individual and wholly free." In 1904 he had read an article about missionaries in Gaboon, in what was then the Congo. But he would not go as a minister: "I wanted to be a doctor, that I might be able to work without having to talk. For years I had been giving myself out in words, and it was with joy that I had followed the calling of theological teacher and of preacher. But this new form of activity I could not represent to myself as being about the religion of love, but only as an actual putting it into practice."

Schweitzer finished his medical studies in 1912, and after raising funds from friends and acquaintances, departed for the Congo with his wife and 70 boxes of supplies and medicine in early 1913. The mission which he joined was in a place called Lamabarene, and he was the only doctor for hundreds of miles. Patients came with malaria, leprosy, sleeping sickness, dysentery, and everything else you can think of. His wife kept house, nursed patients, and acted as anethesiologist when operations were performed.

When the war (sorry, the War) broke out in 1914, Schweitzer was made a detainee of the French, and briefly prevented from treating patients, so began work on a "Philosophy of Civilization," and continued to work on it even when his medical responsibilities recommenced. (I don't know about you, but I'm beginning to feel like a real slacker...) Trying to make sense of all civilization, and where it shoud be headed, informed by the philosophies of east and west, Schweitzer came up with the idea of "Reverence for Life" which would inform his actions and those of many others, including Larry Mellon.

In essence: "A man is ethical only when life as such is sacred to him, that of plants and animals as that of his fellow-men, and when he devotes himself helpfully to all life that is in need of help...The ethic of Reverence for Life, therefore, comprehends within itself everything that can be described as as love, devotion, and sympathy whether in suffering, joy or effort."

Phew. This may need to be two installments...

Kwack.

OK, OK, I know you're reading this so you can learn all about Haiti and the wonderful work they do here at the Hopital Albert Schweitzer, and instead Yours Truly wanders off into town and takes pictures of baby ducks. So sue me. I LIKE ducks.

ps In Creole, errr Kreyol, it's all about the K. Kracker Jack. You get the idea.

Etrange Fruit

I saw these from across the yard...and you can imagine my surprise when I found the little red guys frisking around. A few hours later I was told that they are called Calaba, and then I got confused, 'cause i thought calaba(sh) were like gourds...thank goodness for online dictionaries:

cal•a•bash

Pronunciation: (kal'u-bash"), [key]
—n.
1. any of various gourds, esp. the bottle gourd, Lagenaria siceraria.
2. a tropical American tree, Crescentia cujete, of the bignonia family, bearing large, gourdlike fruit.
3. any of several other plants having gourdlike fruit.
4. the fruit of any of these plants.
5. the dried, hollowed-out shell of any of these fruits, used as a container or utensil.
6. a bottle, kettle, ladle, etc., made from such a shell.
7. a tobacco pipe with a large bowl made from a calabash and usually having a curved stem.
8. a gourd used as a rattle, drum, etc.

I believe what we have here is #2.

The Most Beautiful Leaves in The World...

Are these big ones, on the front lawn... [to the tune of "The Most Beautiful Girl in the World"]

Now I just need to find out what they are.

Can You See it??? Huh?

Here's my version of one of those trippy pattern pictures of a boat, or a bong, or a spaceship. I hate those pictures, probably because I could never see the spaceship, and everyone else claimed they could. Liars.

Somewhere in there is a very beautiful lizard. Really.

Ti Mothra!

In Creole "ti" means small (from the French petit). This guy couldn't fight Godzilla or anything, but he was briefly mistaken for a bat. I managed to wrap him in a towel and get him outside, where he had his revenge by flying right at me and making me squeal like a city girl. Which I am. Damn moth.

By the Side of the Road...

I had a hard time taking pictures as we drove- the roads are bumpier than bumpy, and I had been cautioned to keep my camera inside the car, lest someone make a grab for it.

But this is how commerce happens, by the side of the road. Those big blue bags contain much smalller plastic bags, which in turn hold water. A much more efficient (and cheaper) delivery system than our plastic bottles. At speed bumps, or slower spots, young men hover in the road holding 4 or 5 water packets in each hand, trying to sell them to the passersby.

Help From on High

The drive from the airport, through Port-au-Prince, and out to Deschapelles, was all I had expected, and more. Roads are rocky to nonexistent, and filled with pedestrians, goats, dogs, cattle, trucks, buses, tap-taps, horses, donkeys, motorcycles, bicycles, scooters, and the odd pig.

There are no traffic signals. None. And yet we made it here just fine, thanks to our amazing driver, and his near-constant honking. In lieu of signals and lines painted on the pavement (what pavement?) the Haitian driver uses his or her horn to keep from killing or being killed. About 3 hours into the drive I started thinking that removing traffic signals might be a good way to save energy and wake up the cellphone-talking, GPS-dependent American driver.

Shops like this grocery, "Help from on High" line the roads...though on the scale of things, this is a Wal-Mart Superstore. Most "stores" are just small tables, manned by women selling one or two things (see below).

Give Me Some Respect Man

Upon exiting Toussaint L'Ouverture International airport we saw this fantastic vehicle- called a tap-tap, these decorated buses carry improbable numbers of people hither and yon. Religious images and texts are most common- this seems to be an airport-affiliated tap-tap, judging from the, well, airplanes.

The Best Nightmare on Earth*: An Introduction

I’m off to Haiti. I’ve visited Haiti before, but only went as far as Port-au-Prince, way back in the final days of the Duvalier regime. When Baby Doc Duvalier was run out of his own country, driven to the airport and whisked off to Switzerland while his people rifled through whatever he and his wife Michelle had left behind (closets full of the latest from Paris, and bullet-proof limousines and masses of perfectly hideous furniture, and things covered in gold, or made of gold that shouldn’t have been, as well as a massive national debt, and political prisoners, and a population, the poorest in the western hemisphere, that had been terrorized by the Duvalier regime’s private street army, the Ton Ton Macoutes, and the Macoutes themselves, who were, some of them, torn apart [literally] in the streets once it was clear that the second President-for-Life was well and truly gone) I watched the news reports from New York- I could still remember the way the streets had smelled, and the view I had had of the presidential palace, now being sacked on the evening news, and I remembered Cite Soleil, the Port au Prince slum called Sun City, as I watched the burning and rejoicing ("Haiti Libere!"). And I imagined I'd return a lot sooner than June 22, 2007.

That trip was spent at the Hotel Olafsson, famous for its role in Graham Greene’s The Comedians (Greene lived there while writing the book, and drew from the hotel’s real-life cast of characters to create his own), and for the long list of quirky celebrities, from Truman Capote to Mick Jagger, who have stayed there over the years, and whose names designated the rooms, in lieu of numbers. I think I was in Tennesee Williams. Post-Baby Doc the hotel closed, then reopened with new owners...

And now? Anything could have happened in the interim- this is Haiti, where anything happens all the time. But I'm headed into the countryside, unlikely to see the Olafsson, or much of anything in Port-Au-Prince. Haiti ho!

*The Best Nightmare on Earth is the title of an account of Haiti written by Herbert Gold. It is a fantastic book, and the title has stuck with me as a depressingly accurate description of the country.