I ran out of water yesterday. Not tap water as I have a good supply in my building in Santo Domingo, but drinking water. The tap water here is not potable. Sometimes when I am in the countryside here and there is a well, I will drink the local water. But here in the city, there is often a rainbow reminiscent of a an oil spill in the water in the toilet bowl. Not for drinking.
My drinking water is delivered in 5 gallon bottles which cost about $1.20 each. I must use it to drink, to cook, to fill my ice cube trays. But I am lucky here, I just pick up my cell phone, call the local colmado (our little form of the Quick Stop) and a young man brings over the ten gallons on the back of his motor bike, carrying them up the three flights of stairs. It is not as if I have to walk five miles to the well or the river. So I don't feel bad here when I buy a bottle of water.
But my neighbors across the border in Haiti do. Most of the citizens there make up part of the bottom billion, those who live on less than $1 a day. It is rare that a town in Haiti has municipal water. One statistic that is batted about is that a Haitian has diarrhea for one week a month from the water supply.
The contrast of life in Haiti and life in the States - the poorest and the richest, living 600 miles apart - is most stark in the area of water. Americans, who all have healthy, potable water running out of every faucet in their homes, still spend over $16 million a year on bottled water. That is $500,000 a year for each Haitian.
And most of that is on bottled tap water. Just like the stuff that is running out of their faucets at home. Ah imagine the luxury of it! The streets must surely be paved with gold.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Friday, July 27, 2007
The global village
I often consult this little ditty
to keep my perspective on the world. On the chance that you may not have seen it - from Professor Donella Meadows, Dartmouth College)
State of the Village Report
If the world were a village of 1000 people:
584 would be Asians
123 would be Africans
95 would be East and West Europeans
84 Latin Americans
55 Soviets (still including for the moment Lithuanians, Latvians, Estonians, etc.)
52 North Americans
6 Australians and New Zealanders
The people of the village would have considerable difficulty communicating:
165 people would speak Mandarin
86 would speak English
83 Hindi/Urdu
64 Spanish
58 Russian
37 Arabic
That list accounts for the mother-tongues of only half the villagers. The other half speak (in descending order of frequency) Bengali, Portuguese, Indonesian, Japanese, German, French, and 200 other languages.
In the village there would be:
300 Christians (183 Catholics, 84 Protestants, 33 Orthodox)
175 Moslems
128 Hindus
55 Buddhists
47 Animists
210 all other religons (including atheists)
One-third (330) of the people in the village would be children. Half the children would be immunized against the preventable infectious diseases such as measles and polio.
Sixty of the thousand villagers would be over the age of 65.
Just under half of the married women would have access to and be using modern contraceptives.
Each year 28 babies would be born.
Each year 10 people would die, three of them for lack of food, one from cancer. Two of the deaths would be to babies born within the year.
One person in the village would be infected with the HIV virus; that person would most likely not yet have developed a full-blown case of AIDS.
With the 28 births and 10 deaths, the population of the village in the next year would be 1018.
In this thousand-person community, 200 people would receive three-fourths of the income; another 200 would receive only 2% of the income.
Only 70 people would own an automobile (some of them more than one automobile).
About one-third would not have access to clean, safe drinking water.
Of the 670 adults in the village half would be illiterate.
The village would have 6 acres of land per person, 6000 acres in all of which:
700 acres is cropland
1400 acres pasture
1900 acres woodland
2000 acres desert, tundra, pavement, and other wasteland.
The woodland would be declining rapidly; the wasteland increasing; the other land categories would be roughly stable. The village would allocate 83 percent of its fertilizer to 40 percent of its cropland -- that owned by the richest and best-fed 270 people. Excess fertilizer running off this land would cause pollution in lakes and wells. The remaining 60 percent of the land, with its 17 percent of the fertilizer, would produce 28 percent of the foodgrain and feed 73 percent of the people. The average grain yield on that land would be one-third the yields gotten by the richer villagers.
If the world were a village of 1000 persons, there would be five soldiers, seven teachers, one doctor. Of the village's total annual expenditures of just over $3 million per year, $181,000 would go for weapons and warfare, $159,000 for education, $132,000 for health care.
The village would have buried beneath it enough explosive power in nuclear weapons to blow itself to smithereens many times over. These weapons would be under the control of just 100 of the people. The other 900 people would be watching them with deep anxiety, wondering whether the 100 can learn to get along together, and if they do, whether they might set off the weapons anyway through inattention or technical bungling, and if they ever decide to dismantle the weapons, where in the village they will dispose of the dangerous radioactive materials of which the weapons are made.
(Donella H. Meadows is an adjunct professor of environmental studies at Dartmouth College.)
Copyright Sustainability Institute
to keep my perspective on the world. On the chance that you may not have seen it - from Professor Donella Meadows, Dartmouth College)
State of the Village Report
If the world were a village of 1000 people:
584 would be Asians
123 would be Africans
95 would be East and West Europeans
84 Latin Americans
55 Soviets (still including for the moment Lithuanians, Latvians, Estonians, etc.)
52 North Americans
6 Australians and New Zealanders
The people of the village would have considerable difficulty communicating:
165 people would speak Mandarin
86 would speak English
83 Hindi/Urdu
64 Spanish
58 Russian
37 Arabic
That list accounts for the mother-tongues of only half the villagers. The other half speak (in descending order of frequency) Bengali, Portuguese, Indonesian, Japanese, German, French, and 200 other languages.
In the village there would be:
300 Christians (183 Catholics, 84 Protestants, 33 Orthodox)
175 Moslems
128 Hindus
55 Buddhists
47 Animists
210 all other religons (including atheists)
One-third (330) of the people in the village would be children. Half the children would be immunized against the preventable infectious diseases such as measles and polio.
Sixty of the thousand villagers would be over the age of 65.
Just under half of the married women would have access to and be using modern contraceptives.
Each year 28 babies would be born.
Each year 10 people would die, three of them for lack of food, one from cancer. Two of the deaths would be to babies born within the year.
One person in the village would be infected with the HIV virus; that person would most likely not yet have developed a full-blown case of AIDS.
With the 28 births and 10 deaths, the population of the village in the next year would be 1018.
In this thousand-person community, 200 people would receive three-fourths of the income; another 200 would receive only 2% of the income.
Only 70 people would own an automobile (some of them more than one automobile).
About one-third would not have access to clean, safe drinking water.
Of the 670 adults in the village half would be illiterate.
The village would have 6 acres of land per person, 6000 acres in all of which:
700 acres is cropland
1400 acres pasture
1900 acres woodland
2000 acres desert, tundra, pavement, and other wasteland.
The woodland would be declining rapidly; the wasteland increasing; the other land categories would be roughly stable. The village would allocate 83 percent of its fertilizer to 40 percent of its cropland -- that owned by the richest and best-fed 270 people. Excess fertilizer running off this land would cause pollution in lakes and wells. The remaining 60 percent of the land, with its 17 percent of the fertilizer, would produce 28 percent of the foodgrain and feed 73 percent of the people. The average grain yield on that land would be one-third the yields gotten by the richer villagers.
If the world were a village of 1000 persons, there would be five soldiers, seven teachers, one doctor. Of the village's total annual expenditures of just over $3 million per year, $181,000 would go for weapons and warfare, $159,000 for education, $132,000 for health care.
The village would have buried beneath it enough explosive power in nuclear weapons to blow itself to smithereens many times over. These weapons would be under the control of just 100 of the people. The other 900 people would be watching them with deep anxiety, wondering whether the 100 can learn to get along together, and if they do, whether they might set off the weapons anyway through inattention or technical bungling, and if they ever decide to dismantle the weapons, where in the village they will dispose of the dangerous radioactive materials of which the weapons are made.
(Donella H. Meadows is an adjunct professor of environmental studies at Dartmouth College.)
Copyright Sustainability Institute
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Falling on knees in prayer
For an instant, after my last post, I was happier, seeing that there is, in fact, a vocal and present opposition to the war. As an American, I am responsible for it. But how will we ever repent for this?
Here are a few notes from the ground inside the war to give us a somber perspective:
"Then I met a lady working for the human rights field with these international organizations. I showed her a report about a poor Iraqi woman from Babylon, the militias killed her husband in Baghdad, then she was driven out with her children while she was pregnant. She gave birth in a toilet booth, for no one helped her to go into the nearby medical center. Her baby daughter died. She is living a sad life and is in need of help. The lady looked at the report and said: by God it is a sad story, but I am in a hurry, I want to travel. If you have a report about violence against the Iraqi women, I mean- a case of a woman being beaten by her husband or was forced into marriage against her will, send it to me so I can investigate the case and help her…
I remained astonished…..
Are these the stories that should be marketed in Iraq, violence against women?
Well, what about the woman who lost her husband because of the gangs and sectarian militias? Isn't she a victim of violence?
These are the priorities of the international organizations working for Iraq?
I mean; there is an Iraqi proverb that says: ((Arab wen, Tanbora wen??)) {"= A" talks in one direction, and "B" listens in another!!!}
Ha,ha,ha,…
How can I explain it to the non-Iraqis?
I mean- how far are we from this vain woman?
This Americanized, pampered woman, where is she living? And how can she help the Iraqi women?
Impossible to help them, for she lives in another world, and the salary she receives is a pity….
Before that, I visited an American organization here, to ask them what projects they are presenting to Iraq? What are they doing to the displaced families?
The Arabic employee said with pride: we have a team inside Iraq, and we arranged some projects to the displaced.
I said: pardon, but can I learn about these projects?
She said: we gave a bag to each displaced family, containing a towel, a soap bar, toothpaste and toothbrushes.
I kept staring at her face; is she sane, or nuts?
Where is the food after which they can brush their teeth and wash their hands with soap?
Ha,ha,ha,…
I wish I knew who puts down the work plans of these naïve, nut organizations? And who finances them?
They remind me of Marie Antoinette when the French people were starving for the lack of bread, and she said naively: well, why don't you feed them with biscuits?
************************
And I remembered now a person I met some months ago. He is an Iraqi living in America, his wife is an American. He works in geology and well drilling… then, after the war on Iraq, he presented himself as an expert in marshes, and he started working with international organizations visiting the marshes and writing reports about them…
When I entered the offices of the organization he works with here in Amman, I found the walls covered with pictures of beautiful birds; large numbers of birds of different kinds, and written below them that these birds used to live in the Iraqi marshes habitat, and this project is to redraw these birds into their environment…
I turned to the American woman who works in the office and asked: and what about the people in the marshes? Do you have a project to improve their lives?
She laughed, blushing: no, we have nothing for the people, we are an organization caring for nature…
How nice! I felt happy because of this humanitarian organization that cares about nature, birds, and sparrows, but doesn't listen to the misery of the poor hungry Iraqis…
We sat down, the three of us. The Iraqi talked and laughed a lot, he said he was just visiting here, and will go back to America where his wife and kids are…
I stared at him, telling myself: this is one of the Iraqis who didn't suffer an embargo, or hunger, or wars. He's been living in America since about 1978, he studied there, got married, obtained the nationality, and perhaps forgot something called Iraq in his life… after the war, he jumped forward and said: I am an Iraqi, went with the American and European organizations to the marshes and made himself an expert, pledging to follow up the redevelopment of the marshes, and received financing from different organizations to develop the marshes..........
I said to him: very well, now what have you developed in the marshes? Didn’t all the American and British newspapers cry about the marshes, and that Saddam Hussein starved them to death, dried up the water, and destroyed the environment? What have YOU done?
He said: thank God we now have a team measuring the biological changes in the environment, I mean- the percentage of oxygen and other elements in the water; if it is suitable for the birds that immigrated to come back… checking the humidity in the air, and if it is suitable for the birds to lay their eggs?
I said to him: and how will you announce to the birds that the environment is suitable? Will you put a balloon in the air on which is written- hay, come back, we fixed the environment for you here?
He laughed and said: well, I mean, they will return with time…
He gave me a book published on excellent paper and very fancy printing, full of bird's pictures and their life story…
I said: well, what about the Iraqi families in the marshes, did you build any schools for them? Clinics? Did you provide drinking water purifying stations for them? Have you developed their lives and compensated them for the poverty of the past years?
He said, indignantly: this isn't our business, this is done by other organizations or the government. Our business is only with the environment and the birds. We set up a web site, and written all the necessary information, and if someone likes to come along and invest or create a business there, he's free to do so……
I hid my rage, and smiled….
In Iraq, we have a nice name describing the fools, with a genuine Iraqi word: dupe…
Ha,ha,ha
Whenever I remembered that bourgeois, that word jumps to my mind, why?
I don't know............
********************************
These are the models that entered Iraq after the occupation, then deserted and run away, after running out of their lies, and stealing the financing from naïve or evil organizations, god only knows…
But the marshes and its people remained poor, crushed, and forgotten creatures, whose lives didn't develop with anything real, their story was exploited to draw donations and outside financing, and that was the end of the movie…
This is the story of the entire Iraqi people, who was dealt with in the same way as the people of the marshes; lies and exaggerated stories in the media to draw financing and sympathy. And the result- nothing substantial was achieved, on the contrary, the financing was stolen or used in petty projects, and the poor Iraqi families were left starving of hunger, deprivation, and neglect….
The story of the war on Iraq is one of the biggest shameful stories in the history of humanity…
It will remain to be told thus, until the Day of Judgment…
Told as an evidence of lies, injustice and deception, of how someone can put on the guise of virtue, honor and mercy to save the lives of innocent people, and the result was- more innocent souls crushed, the lives of those remaining alive embittered, and their daily life's motto becomes: today is better than tomorrow….
We shall keep on waiting until the American occupation's nightmare is removed, and they go out of Iraq…
Then, the Iraqis will go back to the proverb: tomorrow will be better; we will unite our ranks and build our country with our own hands…..
Amen…."
And from the ground inside Iraq:
"Humanitarian organizations are warning that three Iraqi women are to be executed next month. The women are Wassan Talib, Zainab Fadhil and Liqa Omar Muhammad. They are being accused of 'terrorism', i.e. having ties to the Iraqi resistance. It could mean they are relatives of people suspected of being in the resistance. Or it could mean they were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. One of them gave birth in the prison. I wonder what kind of torture they've endured. Let no one say Iraqi women didn't get at least SOME equality under the American occupation- we are now equally as likely to get executed.
And yet, as the situation continues to deteriorate both for Iraqis inside and outside of Iraq, and for Americans inside Iraq, Americans in America are still debating on the state of the war and occupation- are they winning or losing? Is it better or worse.
Let me clear it up for any moron with lingering doubts: It’s worse. It’s over. You lost. You lost the day your tanks rolled into Baghdad to the cheers of your imported, American-trained monkeys. You lost every single family whose home your soldiers violated. You lost every sane, red-blooded Iraqi when the Abu Ghraib pictures came out and verified your atrocities behind prison walls as well as the ones we see in our streets. You lost when you brought murderers, looters, gangsters and militia heads to power and hailed them as Iraq’s first democratic government. You lost when a gruesome execution was dubbed your biggest accomplishment. You lost the respect and reputation you once had. You lost more than 3000 troops. That is what you lost America. I hope the oil, at least, made it worthwhile."
How will we ever repent for this?
It was not enough - the standing in the center of Asheville, dressed in Black on Friday afternoons, the marching, the writing, the exile from my home country.
At least let us acknowledge in our body counts
the full number of deaths.
May God forgive us.
Here are a few notes from the ground inside the war to give us a somber perspective:
"Then I met a lady working for the human rights field with these international organizations. I showed her a report about a poor Iraqi woman from Babylon, the militias killed her husband in Baghdad, then she was driven out with her children while she was pregnant. She gave birth in a toilet booth, for no one helped her to go into the nearby medical center. Her baby daughter died. She is living a sad life and is in need of help. The lady looked at the report and said: by God it is a sad story, but I am in a hurry, I want to travel. If you have a report about violence against the Iraqi women, I mean- a case of a woman being beaten by her husband or was forced into marriage against her will, send it to me so I can investigate the case and help her…
I remained astonished…..
Are these the stories that should be marketed in Iraq, violence against women?
Well, what about the woman who lost her husband because of the gangs and sectarian militias? Isn't she a victim of violence?
These are the priorities of the international organizations working for Iraq?
I mean; there is an Iraqi proverb that says: ((Arab wen, Tanbora wen??)) {"= A" talks in one direction, and "B" listens in another!!!}
Ha,ha,ha,…
How can I explain it to the non-Iraqis?
I mean- how far are we from this vain woman?
This Americanized, pampered woman, where is she living? And how can she help the Iraqi women?
Impossible to help them, for she lives in another world, and the salary she receives is a pity….
Before that, I visited an American organization here, to ask them what projects they are presenting to Iraq? What are they doing to the displaced families?
The Arabic employee said with pride: we have a team inside Iraq, and we arranged some projects to the displaced.
I said: pardon, but can I learn about these projects?
She said: we gave a bag to each displaced family, containing a towel, a soap bar, toothpaste and toothbrushes.
I kept staring at her face; is she sane, or nuts?
Where is the food after which they can brush their teeth and wash their hands with soap?
Ha,ha,ha,…
I wish I knew who puts down the work plans of these naïve, nut organizations? And who finances them?
They remind me of Marie Antoinette when the French people were starving for the lack of bread, and she said naively: well, why don't you feed them with biscuits?
************************
And I remembered now a person I met some months ago. He is an Iraqi living in America, his wife is an American. He works in geology and well drilling… then, after the war on Iraq, he presented himself as an expert in marshes, and he started working with international organizations visiting the marshes and writing reports about them…
When I entered the offices of the organization he works with here in Amman, I found the walls covered with pictures of beautiful birds; large numbers of birds of different kinds, and written below them that these birds used to live in the Iraqi marshes habitat, and this project is to redraw these birds into their environment…
I turned to the American woman who works in the office and asked: and what about the people in the marshes? Do you have a project to improve their lives?
She laughed, blushing: no, we have nothing for the people, we are an organization caring for nature…
How nice! I felt happy because of this humanitarian organization that cares about nature, birds, and sparrows, but doesn't listen to the misery of the poor hungry Iraqis…
We sat down, the three of us. The Iraqi talked and laughed a lot, he said he was just visiting here, and will go back to America where his wife and kids are…
I stared at him, telling myself: this is one of the Iraqis who didn't suffer an embargo, or hunger, or wars. He's been living in America since about 1978, he studied there, got married, obtained the nationality, and perhaps forgot something called Iraq in his life… after the war, he jumped forward and said: I am an Iraqi, went with the American and European organizations to the marshes and made himself an expert, pledging to follow up the redevelopment of the marshes, and received financing from different organizations to develop the marshes..........
I said to him: very well, now what have you developed in the marshes? Didn’t all the American and British newspapers cry about the marshes, and that Saddam Hussein starved them to death, dried up the water, and destroyed the environment? What have YOU done?
He said: thank God we now have a team measuring the biological changes in the environment, I mean- the percentage of oxygen and other elements in the water; if it is suitable for the birds that immigrated to come back… checking the humidity in the air, and if it is suitable for the birds to lay their eggs?
I said to him: and how will you announce to the birds that the environment is suitable? Will you put a balloon in the air on which is written- hay, come back, we fixed the environment for you here?
He laughed and said: well, I mean, they will return with time…
He gave me a book published on excellent paper and very fancy printing, full of bird's pictures and their life story…
I said: well, what about the Iraqi families in the marshes, did you build any schools for them? Clinics? Did you provide drinking water purifying stations for them? Have you developed their lives and compensated them for the poverty of the past years?
He said, indignantly: this isn't our business, this is done by other organizations or the government. Our business is only with the environment and the birds. We set up a web site, and written all the necessary information, and if someone likes to come along and invest or create a business there, he's free to do so……
I hid my rage, and smiled….
In Iraq, we have a nice name describing the fools, with a genuine Iraqi word: dupe…
Ha,ha,ha
Whenever I remembered that bourgeois, that word jumps to my mind, why?
I don't know............
********************************
These are the models that entered Iraq after the occupation, then deserted and run away, after running out of their lies, and stealing the financing from naïve or evil organizations, god only knows…
But the marshes and its people remained poor, crushed, and forgotten creatures, whose lives didn't develop with anything real, their story was exploited to draw donations and outside financing, and that was the end of the movie…
This is the story of the entire Iraqi people, who was dealt with in the same way as the people of the marshes; lies and exaggerated stories in the media to draw financing and sympathy. And the result- nothing substantial was achieved, on the contrary, the financing was stolen or used in petty projects, and the poor Iraqi families were left starving of hunger, deprivation, and neglect….
The story of the war on Iraq is one of the biggest shameful stories in the history of humanity…
It will remain to be told thus, until the Day of Judgment…
Told as an evidence of lies, injustice and deception, of how someone can put on the guise of virtue, honor and mercy to save the lives of innocent people, and the result was- more innocent souls crushed, the lives of those remaining alive embittered, and their daily life's motto becomes: today is better than tomorrow….
We shall keep on waiting until the American occupation's nightmare is removed, and they go out of Iraq…
Then, the Iraqis will go back to the proverb: tomorrow will be better; we will unite our ranks and build our country with our own hands…..
Amen…."
And from the ground inside Iraq:
"Humanitarian organizations are warning that three Iraqi women are to be executed next month. The women are Wassan Talib, Zainab Fadhil and Liqa Omar Muhammad. They are being accused of 'terrorism', i.e. having ties to the Iraqi resistance. It could mean they are relatives of people suspected of being in the resistance. Or it could mean they were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. One of them gave birth in the prison. I wonder what kind of torture they've endured. Let no one say Iraqi women didn't get at least SOME equality under the American occupation- we are now equally as likely to get executed.
And yet, as the situation continues to deteriorate both for Iraqis inside and outside of Iraq, and for Americans inside Iraq, Americans in America are still debating on the state of the war and occupation- are they winning or losing? Is it better or worse.
Let me clear it up for any moron with lingering doubts: It’s worse. It’s over. You lost. You lost the day your tanks rolled into Baghdad to the cheers of your imported, American-trained monkeys. You lost every single family whose home your soldiers violated. You lost every sane, red-blooded Iraqi when the Abu Ghraib pictures came out and verified your atrocities behind prison walls as well as the ones we see in our streets. You lost when you brought murderers, looters, gangsters and militia heads to power and hailed them as Iraq’s first democratic government. You lost when a gruesome execution was dubbed your biggest accomplishment. You lost the respect and reputation you once had. You lost more than 3000 troops. That is what you lost America. I hope the oil, at least, made it worthwhile."
How will we ever repent for this?
It was not enough - the standing in the center of Asheville, dressed in Black on Friday afternoons, the marching, the writing, the exile from my home country.
At least let us acknowledge in our body counts
the full number of deaths.
May God forgive us.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
News from my hometown!
I am really proud of my stalwart friends! Check out the news that doesn't make the news! You will feel better, I am sure.
It's the attitude of the "aid" that counts
Among my first friends and neighbors here was a couple- he Swiss- she from Burundi- who had hoped to start a life here together more compatable to them than either of their home countries. They had met when he worked for CARE International in Burundi, fell in love, married, moved to Geneva, where she had spent two years freezing in the climate and the atmosphere.
It didn't work out for them here in the long run, she being as dark as a Haitian was mistaken for one and treated badly. Yet I remember them with fondness and I will always treasure her observation of me "You are the first African I have met outside of Africa!" I have never been to Africa but I was warmed by her welcome.
They talked to me at length on how "aid" was delivered to Africa, the "white" aid workers, with fantastic European salaries, all expenses paid, high living,SUVs and the "Christians" with their Bibles in one hand, food in the other. They shared a general disgust with the entire operation.
It wasn't long before I saw the same thing for myself here. Aid is a business here. The very best job in Haiti and, to some extent here, is with an international NGO. Even though your boss is likely to be a foreigner. The people who direct the big money, like the USAID budget, only stay in the country for four years, sometimes never learning the language,often never interacting with much local input.
Do a search on the blogs on Haiti and you will find hundreds of good Christians, and, really, I have no doubt that many of them are, who are led to help Haiti, and "spread the Gospel". My only concern here is that Haiti has long been "exposed" to the Gospel and yet still appears to hold onto its own religious tradition. Are we to deny them that in order to help them? What if all the medical teams and missionaries who go there were to educate and empower the local shamans, the hougans and mambos, who already have the respect of the people, instead of replacing them with a western model.
It is no wonder that all the "foreign aid" hasn't worked. Here is a recent article in the Washington post by Uzodirnma Iwela who speaks of the predicament in Africa. The discussion in the comment sections is well worth your time.
It might as well be Haiti.
I have a Haitian friend who saw a picture of a young Haitian boy, naked, on a website of one group asking for aid money. He wrote to them saying that he considered it child pornography, and how would they feel if he put a picture of a naked American boy on his website? They apologized and removed the picture.
It is clear that we in the "developed" world have to shift our mindset if we wish to close the global divide between the rich and poor nations. From "us" being the generous benefactors and "them" being the poor, ignorant savages to a new model of development which acknowledges a more mature, equal and respectful reality.
Certainly neither Africa nor Haiti would be in the condition they are in now were it not for the Western slave trade, colonialism, and all subtle and overt forms of imperialism.
What if, for instance, we were to humbly acknowledge that our system of development, of progress, has led the world to the brink of environmental catastophe? That our lifestyles are not sustainable? That we might just have missed a few things along the way?
Nevertheless, I applaud everyone who has a concern for Africa, who cares about the wages being paid to foreign workers, who protests when China censors Google. In America, at least, it isn't easy to even hear anything about the rest of the world, unless we are at war with them.
It isn't our intention, it's the ignorance in our attitude that needs to change.
It didn't work out for them here in the long run, she being as dark as a Haitian was mistaken for one and treated badly. Yet I remember them with fondness and I will always treasure her observation of me "You are the first African I have met outside of Africa!" I have never been to Africa but I was warmed by her welcome.
They talked to me at length on how "aid" was delivered to Africa, the "white" aid workers, with fantastic European salaries, all expenses paid, high living,SUVs and the "Christians" with their Bibles in one hand, food in the other. They shared a general disgust with the entire operation.
It wasn't long before I saw the same thing for myself here. Aid is a business here. The very best job in Haiti and, to some extent here, is with an international NGO. Even though your boss is likely to be a foreigner. The people who direct the big money, like the USAID budget, only stay in the country for four years, sometimes never learning the language,often never interacting with much local input.
Do a search on the blogs on Haiti and you will find hundreds of good Christians, and, really, I have no doubt that many of them are, who are led to help Haiti, and "spread the Gospel". My only concern here is that Haiti has long been "exposed" to the Gospel and yet still appears to hold onto its own religious tradition. Are we to deny them that in order to help them? What if all the medical teams and missionaries who go there were to educate and empower the local shamans, the hougans and mambos, who already have the respect of the people, instead of replacing them with a western model.
It is no wonder that all the "foreign aid" hasn't worked. Here is a recent article in the Washington post by Uzodirnma Iwela who speaks of the predicament in Africa. The discussion in the comment sections is well worth your time.
It might as well be Haiti.
I have a Haitian friend who saw a picture of a young Haitian boy, naked, on a website of one group asking for aid money. He wrote to them saying that he considered it child pornography, and how would they feel if he put a picture of a naked American boy on his website? They apologized and removed the picture.
It is clear that we in the "developed" world have to shift our mindset if we wish to close the global divide between the rich and poor nations. From "us" being the generous benefactors and "them" being the poor, ignorant savages to a new model of development which acknowledges a more mature, equal and respectful reality.
Certainly neither Africa nor Haiti would be in the condition they are in now were it not for the Western slave trade, colonialism, and all subtle and overt forms of imperialism.
What if, for instance, we were to humbly acknowledge that our system of development, of progress, has led the world to the brink of environmental catastophe? That our lifestyles are not sustainable? That we might just have missed a few things along the way?
Nevertheless, I applaud everyone who has a concern for Africa, who cares about the wages being paid to foreign workers, who protests when China censors Google. In America, at least, it isn't easy to even hear anything about the rest of the world, unless we are at war with them.
It isn't our intention, it's the ignorance in our attitude that needs to change.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
The Arc of Justice
The news coming out of Haiti just keeps getting better. The DEA has started really arresting some of the biggest drug lords - although Guy Phillipe, who lead the "rebellion" or the "coup" against Aristide,escaped capture. Perhaps not for long.
The Prime Minister of Canada, which after the US is the biggest donor of aid to Haiti, visited the country and actually walked through Cite Soleil. A few years ago, the UN couldn't even get food aid into Cite Soleil.
There seems to be a real night life going on at the porch of the Olaffsen Hotel.
As if it were not all just too much good news, there has been an announcement by a mining company that they have discovered gold in the hills. Gold in the hills of Haiti - just imagine that.
And everyone has nothing but good things so say about President Preval. Except for a vociferous right wing group in the Diaspora who seem to talk a lot but not do very much. And a small group who simply cannot forget Aristide, no matter how much everyone wishes they would. Reports are that Preval is honest and sincere. He is also the first Haitian president ever to retire from his last term as president in his own country.
So now we will have to start a series of "simplicity" training programs for those Americans who want to "downsize". A true sort of eco-tourism. Learning how to live without electricity and thus refrigeration, and no running water - that is going to be a valuable life skill.
On this side of the island, there was a general strike last week that would have made Gandhi proud. True, one person died, but most of the entire country of 8 million people were simply, quietly, staying home. I drove over 5 hours from the border to the capital of Santo Domingo, passing through town after town with shuttered shops, closed banks. Even the colmados were closed. Not even a public domino game in sight. All to protest the rising cost of food, the increase in taxes insisted on by the IMF. Just a very loud and very quiet "Basta YA"
Oddly, although Europe seems to be flooding and burning up, here in the tropics, the weather is just about normal. Which is hot - but more like 90 and not 120 - and wet now in the rainy season.
Makes me believe that the arc of time does bend toward justice.
The Prime Minister of Canada, which after the US is the biggest donor of aid to Haiti, visited the country and actually walked through Cite Soleil. A few years ago, the UN couldn't even get food aid into Cite Soleil.
There seems to be a real night life going on at the porch of the Olaffsen Hotel.
As if it were not all just too much good news, there has been an announcement by a mining company that they have discovered gold in the hills. Gold in the hills of Haiti - just imagine that.
And everyone has nothing but good things so say about President Preval. Except for a vociferous right wing group in the Diaspora who seem to talk a lot but not do very much. And a small group who simply cannot forget Aristide, no matter how much everyone wishes they would. Reports are that Preval is honest and sincere. He is also the first Haitian president ever to retire from his last term as president in his own country.
So now we will have to start a series of "simplicity" training programs for those Americans who want to "downsize". A true sort of eco-tourism. Learning how to live without electricity and thus refrigeration, and no running water - that is going to be a valuable life skill.
On this side of the island, there was a general strike last week that would have made Gandhi proud. True, one person died, but most of the entire country of 8 million people were simply, quietly, staying home. I drove over 5 hours from the border to the capital of Santo Domingo, passing through town after town with shuttered shops, closed banks. Even the colmados were closed. Not even a public domino game in sight. All to protest the rising cost of food, the increase in taxes insisted on by the IMF. Just a very loud and very quiet "Basta YA"
Oddly, although Europe seems to be flooding and burning up, here in the tropics, the weather is just about normal. Which is hot - but more like 90 and not 120 - and wet now in the rainy season.
Makes me believe that the arc of time does bend toward justice.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Haiti and the Law of Attraction
Everyone in the States is wild about the book "The Secret" which in a few short pages summarizes the Law of Attraction. Simply stated it is that Universe gives us what we ask for: we draw unto us the life experiences that we wish to experience. This, some of the "teachers" explain, is why 5% of the people have 95% of the wealth. The same theories have been put forward for years, by Deepak Chopra in "The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success" and through countless books on New Age Thought. I am not completely rushing about with my hands waving above my head shouting "I believe I believe" but on many levels, I do believe. Many times in my life I have received exactly what I envisioned. The harder I envisioned, the sharper the manifestation.
The workings of the law of attraction hits hard in Haiti. I sat in a room with some Haitians from Anse A Pitres, on the southern border of the Dominican Republic. They were part of a bi-national theater group which had been started by Jessica Heckert, a most remarkable Peace Corps worker, who was twice evacuated from Haiti and went on to finish her service on the border. The Haitians sat in a circle and started to sing - piercingly beautiful singing. One of the songs was a lullaby, telling the baby the facts of life - that the rich will get richer and the poor will have nothing. I contrast that to the song I was sung - that if I stayed much longer in my cradle, which my perverse parents had placed high in the treetops, I would be smashed to smithereens. That sort of song certainly fosters a sense of self determination. No one else is going to do it for you.
There is a fine line between poverty and simplicity. I remember watching the tourists come to Haiti, thirty years back when there were still plenty of tourists. They seemed to divide in half, into those who were immediately enamored by the spirit of the people and those who were uncomfortable with the poverty. And not just uncomfortable with the poverty but with the smiles of the people in it. We are raised in America, at least, to believe that money can buy happiness. Or a fine replacement for it. And if these people are so poor, why is there so much art, so much music, so much sort of unbounded joy? I often thought that if I stood still long enough in Haiti, someone would paint me with the same bright colors that they used on their buses, the tap-taps.
Bob Corbett, who runs an English list-serve on Haiti, and is probably the foremost foreign authority on the country, believes that Haiti's original dream, of small self-sufficient farms, is a valid one. They lacked the needed knowledge for the preservation of their land in their farming techniques. They still do. But their land is not polluted. It was never used to produce toxic material. It does not have heavy metal toxins. It does not have the noise of traffic, or the hum of electrical wires.
The measures of our world on how well nations are doing are skewed to material prosperity, education, health care, longevity. And by those measurements, Haiti always scores near the bottom. Yet if we were to change the scale to "who can do the most with the least?" or "who makes the lowest carbon footprint on the planet?" Haiti would perhaps score a lot higher.
The workings of the law of attraction hits hard in Haiti. I sat in a room with some Haitians from Anse A Pitres, on the southern border of the Dominican Republic. They were part of a bi-national theater group which had been started by Jessica Heckert, a most remarkable Peace Corps worker, who was twice evacuated from Haiti and went on to finish her service on the border. The Haitians sat in a circle and started to sing - piercingly beautiful singing. One of the songs was a lullaby, telling the baby the facts of life - that the rich will get richer and the poor will have nothing. I contrast that to the song I was sung - that if I stayed much longer in my cradle, which my perverse parents had placed high in the treetops, I would be smashed to smithereens. That sort of song certainly fosters a sense of self determination. No one else is going to do it for you.
There is a fine line between poverty and simplicity. I remember watching the tourists come to Haiti, thirty years back when there were still plenty of tourists. They seemed to divide in half, into those who were immediately enamored by the spirit of the people and those who were uncomfortable with the poverty. And not just uncomfortable with the poverty but with the smiles of the people in it. We are raised in America, at least, to believe that money can buy happiness. Or a fine replacement for it. And if these people are so poor, why is there so much art, so much music, so much sort of unbounded joy? I often thought that if I stood still long enough in Haiti, someone would paint me with the same bright colors that they used on their buses, the tap-taps.
Bob Corbett, who runs an English list-serve on Haiti, and is probably the foremost foreign authority on the country, believes that Haiti's original dream, of small self-sufficient farms, is a valid one. They lacked the needed knowledge for the preservation of their land in their farming techniques. They still do. But their land is not polluted. It was never used to produce toxic material. It does not have heavy metal toxins. It does not have the noise of traffic, or the hum of electrical wires.
The measures of our world on how well nations are doing are skewed to material prosperity, education, health care, longevity. And by those measurements, Haiti always scores near the bottom. Yet if we were to change the scale to "who can do the most with the least?" or "who makes the lowest carbon footprint on the planet?" Haiti would perhaps score a lot higher.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
HAITI-DOMINICAN REPUBLIC: A Fragile Coexistence
PEDERNALES, Dominican Republic, Jul 12 (IPS) - The border between Anse a Pitres in Haiti and Pedernales in the Dominican Republic, both seven hours from their respective capitals, is barred only by a chain that pedestrians can easily cross.
Unlike some other crossings that are tightly controlled, Haitians pass freely back and forth during the week. No immigration checks occur until buses are stopped at the fort leaving the town.
Still, relations between Haiti and the Dominican Republic are so delicate that the theft of a motorbike, which precipitated a melee along the Pedernales River last week, drew the intervention of the head of the U.N. peacekeeping mission in Haiti and representatives of both the national governments.
The governors of Pedernales and the Departmente du Sud Est from Port au Prince met last week on the southern border to publicly demonstrate that there was no conflict between the two nations.
In the Jul. 4 incident, a Haitian was accused of stealing a motorbike from the Dominican side. A number of Dominicans crossed into Anse a Pitres and started to beat him up. A lot more Haitians arrived to aid the accused. In the end, there were as many as 200 people gathered on the banks of the river fighting with rocks and machetes.
Local residents, including Ramon Mateus, director of Plan International, and Frederico Oscaldo, the Haitian consul in Pedernales, insist that the altercation, in which eight people were wounded, was merely infighting among gang members.
"It is an organised gang of delinquents who regularly steal motorbikes from the Dominican side and sell them on the Haitian side. This is an ongoing problem," Oscaldo said.
Mateus, whose office works to promote friendship between the residents and dispel any ideas of "anti-Haitianismo", added that, "The people in Anse a Pitres are country people, not sophisticated. They could not be regularly stealing motorbikes without the cooperation of people on the Dominican side."
This belief was shared by Marino José, owner of the Hotel Dona Chava, a lifelong resident of Pedernales who himself has never crossed over the border into Haiti.
"Certainly it is a gang of delinquents," he said. "The Haitians could not be doing it alone. They could not be wandering about stealing without someone catching them."
José said that young Dominicans have crossed over into Haiti to get their bikes back. But if the bikes have been seized by the Haitian authorities, which often happens if they discover that a Haitian has a bike with Dominican identification plates, they require them to pay a "recovery fee" that is sometimes more than the bike is worth.
There is also a large population of Colombian nationals living in Pedernales who own several apartment buildings, and a concrete company, along with a dock with a ship on the deep water port of Cabo Rojo. The company has not been producing concrete for the last year.
The 20,000 residents of Anse-A-Pitres, which has no electricity, live primarily through fishing, although few of their boats have motors so that they do not catch as much as the motorboats which leave from the Dominican side and can go further out.
Many of the women go into Pedernales during the day to perform domestic labour in Dominican homes. A wage of 50 dollars a month is typical, and there are many more people looking for work than there are jobs available. One Haitian woman working at a local hotel is paid 65 dollars a month for seven days a week, 12 hours a day.
Mateus challenges the local custom of keeping young Haitian girls to do housework in Dominican homes for room and board only, with no salary.
"I have been at meetings with Dominican women, high-level women, who have these girls of 13 years old at their homes. They do not pay them. They do not send them to school. I say to them that this is a form of slavery. They say that it is not, that they are giving them a place to live and food. But if you are not sending them to school and not paying them, what do you call it?" he said.
On market days in Pedernales, Mondays and Fridays, the consul on the Haitian side and his assistant and two customs officials on the Dominican side eye the goods coming out of the market and determine the duty on the spot. There are no set customs duties posted. Neither official could give an estimate of how much money changed hands during the two market days every week.
Marino José says that the director of customs is building a new house. "The front door alone costs 50,000 pesos. His salary is only 15,000. How is this possible? I have watched them collect the customs. There is no paperwork, no records."
Recently there has been a tightening of controls on Haitians arriving without proper passports and visas. Three hours before the local bus from Santo Domingo arrived in Pedernales, the bus driver received a phone call.
"Two or three, you say?" he commented.
At the next military checkpoint, he turned to the fare collector and pointed out one of the guards, saying: "Go talk to that one." When the fare collector got back on the bus, he told the driver: "He says we can only bring in two and he wants 300 pesos each." The driver said: "That means that we will charge them 1,200 pesos" -- about 36 dollars.
Jose says that the military men at the border checkpoints are paid the minimum wage, about 120-150 dollars a month. If a bus stops and is not carrying any undocumented Haitians, the officer will say to the driver: "You are not bringing anything. You are not bringing a livelihood."
(END/2007)
Unlike some other crossings that are tightly controlled, Haitians pass freely back and forth during the week. No immigration checks occur until buses are stopped at the fort leaving the town.
Still, relations between Haiti and the Dominican Republic are so delicate that the theft of a motorbike, which precipitated a melee along the Pedernales River last week, drew the intervention of the head of the U.N. peacekeeping mission in Haiti and representatives of both the national governments.
The governors of Pedernales and the Departmente du Sud Est from Port au Prince met last week on the southern border to publicly demonstrate that there was no conflict between the two nations.
In the Jul. 4 incident, a Haitian was accused of stealing a motorbike from the Dominican side. A number of Dominicans crossed into Anse a Pitres and started to beat him up. A lot more Haitians arrived to aid the accused. In the end, there were as many as 200 people gathered on the banks of the river fighting with rocks and machetes.
Local residents, including Ramon Mateus, director of Plan International, and Frederico Oscaldo, the Haitian consul in Pedernales, insist that the altercation, in which eight people were wounded, was merely infighting among gang members.
"It is an organised gang of delinquents who regularly steal motorbikes from the Dominican side and sell them on the Haitian side. This is an ongoing problem," Oscaldo said.
Mateus, whose office works to promote friendship between the residents and dispel any ideas of "anti-Haitianismo", added that, "The people in Anse a Pitres are country people, not sophisticated. They could not be regularly stealing motorbikes without the cooperation of people on the Dominican side."
This belief was shared by Marino José, owner of the Hotel Dona Chava, a lifelong resident of Pedernales who himself has never crossed over the border into Haiti.
"Certainly it is a gang of delinquents," he said. "The Haitians could not be doing it alone. They could not be wandering about stealing without someone catching them."
José said that young Dominicans have crossed over into Haiti to get their bikes back. But if the bikes have been seized by the Haitian authorities, which often happens if they discover that a Haitian has a bike with Dominican identification plates, they require them to pay a "recovery fee" that is sometimes more than the bike is worth.
There is also a large population of Colombian nationals living in Pedernales who own several apartment buildings, and a concrete company, along with a dock with a ship on the deep water port of Cabo Rojo. The company has not been producing concrete for the last year.
The 20,000 residents of Anse-A-Pitres, which has no electricity, live primarily through fishing, although few of their boats have motors so that they do not catch as much as the motorboats which leave from the Dominican side and can go further out.
Many of the women go into Pedernales during the day to perform domestic labour in Dominican homes. A wage of 50 dollars a month is typical, and there are many more people looking for work than there are jobs available. One Haitian woman working at a local hotel is paid 65 dollars a month for seven days a week, 12 hours a day.
Mateus challenges the local custom of keeping young Haitian girls to do housework in Dominican homes for room and board only, with no salary.
"I have been at meetings with Dominican women, high-level women, who have these girls of 13 years old at their homes. They do not pay them. They do not send them to school. I say to them that this is a form of slavery. They say that it is not, that they are giving them a place to live and food. But if you are not sending them to school and not paying them, what do you call it?" he said.
On market days in Pedernales, Mondays and Fridays, the consul on the Haitian side and his assistant and two customs officials on the Dominican side eye the goods coming out of the market and determine the duty on the spot. There are no set customs duties posted. Neither official could give an estimate of how much money changed hands during the two market days every week.
Marino José says that the director of customs is building a new house. "The front door alone costs 50,000 pesos. His salary is only 15,000. How is this possible? I have watched them collect the customs. There is no paperwork, no records."
Recently there has been a tightening of controls on Haitians arriving without proper passports and visas. Three hours before the local bus from Santo Domingo arrived in Pedernales, the bus driver received a phone call.
"Two or three, you say?" he commented.
At the next military checkpoint, he turned to the fare collector and pointed out one of the guards, saying: "Go talk to that one." When the fare collector got back on the bus, he told the driver: "He says we can only bring in two and he wants 300 pesos each." The driver said: "That means that we will charge them 1,200 pesos" -- about 36 dollars.
Jose says that the military men at the border checkpoints are paid the minimum wage, about 120-150 dollars a month. If a bus stops and is not carrying any undocumented Haitians, the officer will say to the driver: "You are not bringing anything. You are not bringing a livelihood."
(END/2007)
Monday, July 9, 2007
Given to Visions
On my last business card,I termed myself a "creative visualizer." I lived then in Asheville, NC, where such terms were appropriate. But I am given to dreams and visions. After I had visited the northern border of the Dominican Republic and Haiti, I was given this one:
I see the border between these two nations as a wound in need of stitching. I have been daily visualizing a great ribbon of love going back and forth between the nations as through the holes in a shoe, like a bootlace of love, bringing together the divide, healing the wounds, making the island whole, united in harmony. Here is how it appeared.
I would focus in on the Massacre river, on the Haitian side at Ounaminthe, the big field there on the other side of the bridge, covered as it is now with plastic trash, bordering on the river where the women and children went to wash their clothes. I would bring a chair, and an umbrella, two big cartons of avocados and a box of large black plastic trash bags.
The children would approach, curious, as children are. I would show them the avocados and the bags and then we would walk together picking up all the trash. When a bag was full, I would trade them an avocado for the trash. Somehow, despite my lack of Kreyole, I would explain that they were to bring me back the pits - in a few days or a week - and a jar. We would start an avocado farm. Soon we would also grow bamboo, for food and furniture and weaving. Soon we would have a commercial chicken farm with fresh eggs.
The vision continued as on the other side of the road, men were building an incinerator for burning the trash.
When the field was cleared, we would begin moving rocks into a great circle, creating a sacred space where we could sit together in equality and silence.
First we would sing. We would chant. The drummers would arrive. We would raise a cone of power for the healing of the earth. Magic began to permeate the air as the hope was raised. Haiti=Eden. Hispaniola=Heaven. The Angels gathered round.
Near the edge of the field, the men were building a latrine, covered space so that the women would have privacy. Soon there would be well, with running water, lines for hanging the wash, tables for sharing food.
The market itself, a gift from the people of the world, was built with strong wire walls for protection while it was in its growth as an area of free commerce, between the two free people, both citizens of democracies. The land of the market belonged to both nations, and to neither. It was encircled with two storied buildings of concrete, strong walls, solid roofs to keep out the rain, electricity and running water from solar panels. It was completely self contained and self sustaining. While it was primarily a place of commerce, it was evident that this market represented a concern for something far greater even than money. This was a manifestation of a new sort of world.
Each morning upon the opening of the market, and each evening at the close, a loud bell chimed. Everyone present assembled in a circle. Then sang, first the anthem of one nation, then the anthem of another. And in reverse at the close of day.
The upstairs of the market was a living school, a constant educational experience. Here there were free internet connections for those who were enrolled in ongoing university training. In order to pay for their education, the older students were obliged to give equal time to teaching the younger ones. Everyone was learning everything in four languages, as it is easy for children to learn that. Signs were printed in Kreyole, Spanish, French and English. The market itself had a multilingual web page where orders for hand made goods, juices, preserves, could be placed.
There was a radio station next to a music room full of instruments so that musicians from both sides of the border could come together in harmony in the loving language of music. Linked with Radio for Peace International at the UN University for Peace in Costa Rica and broadcasting in French, Spanish, and English, it provided language lessons and hopeful news from around the world on global progress toward the Millennium Goals.
Next door, were the craft studios, with tools and teachers for embroidery, leather working, painting, the heartfelt language of illiterates.
Every inch of the market was a classroom. There was ongoing instruction in how to produce enough for a family to eat on a small piece of ground. There was ongoing instruction from the micro-enterprise institutions on finance, book-keeping, and loans group loans available. Teams were busy building solar ovens and sand water purifiers. Alternate energy was being produced by bicycles. Instruction was being given on how to safely use grey water for irrigation, on how to construct self-composting toilets.
There was a dorm room where visiting presenters, experts in alternative energy, alternative construction, such as straw bale and rammed earth construction, could stay during their two week tours.
The health clinic, staffed with volunteers from around the world, and operating under a grant from the Gates Foundation, had an ongoing Aids testing and educational programs and provided access to inexpensive retroviral drugs. It also provided classes on balanced nutrition, basic first aid courses construction of sanitary facilities, prevention of water borne diseases, and distributed mosquito nets for the protection from malaria and dengue. Equipment for the establishment of small medical outposts was available to those who had completed the required training.
The former free trade zone, which had failed due to lack of a co-operation from the people, on the edge of the market, was now firmly enclosed within the bounds of the market, It had been transformed into a refugee center and recycling station. Daily more Haitians returned from their hard exile in the sugar cane fields and brothels and construction work in the Dominican Republic.
Haitian and Dominican citizens in the Diaspora as well as people of good will from all over the world had all contributed enough for the upkeep of the center‘s. returning exiles who were first healed and cared for as they learned new skills. No one could live there for more than 6 months, in order to make room for the new returning exiles.
All the used goods that came into Haiti from the United States were brought here. The goods were laid out on great tables and sorted through. The valuable shoes with famous logos, such as Nike, which could be purchased for under $5, would be repackaged to export back to the streets of American cities, where they would be sold for $50, under half the retail price. The clothing that was made of natural fibers, cotton, wool, silk, rayon, would be cut into pieces to be reworked into quilted bags and clothing. The pretty evening dresses and blue jeans (except those that were going to be hand embroidered or turned into skirts) would be sold onto the Dominican side of the island along with the finished crafts that came out of the studios. These crafts would also be exported to fair trade outlets in the United States and Europe.
There was one big office where all the non-governmental organizations that were operating in Haiti or for the development of the Dominican Republic to reach the Millennium Development Goals had their programs described and represented.
The center of the market held stalls for the merchants, shielded from the sun. Here were the best of all the Haitian handcrafts, the finest selections of Dominican cigars, the freshest organic produce, cakes, jams, hand made brooms and clothing.
Near the outer edges were the animal stalls where the Heifer Project and various agencies were conducting classes on how to care for the chickens, goats and small pigs. Once the classes were completed, groups of women would be given the animals for their own care with the stipulation that the first born of any animal would be given away to someone who had none. Next door were the community orchards.
In the river, running through the center of the market, fresh water fish were being raised for market.
Outside the market, the fields on both the Haitian and Dominican sides were being daily put into profitable production. With the assistance of Stoneyfield Farms, the largest organic yogurt maker in the United States, and Dannon, its new parent company in France, the small local Haitian yogurt co-operative, Lait Agro Pro, had expanded its operation deep into all the regions in Haiti and had a new bottling plant near the market. In its cooperative effort with the Bee Keeper’s alliance on the Dominican side of the river, all the farmers were now producing both yogurt and honey. With the assistance of Burt’s Bees, a progressive company in the United States, they were now producing lines of soap, facial creams, and flower essence oils.
The chocolate producers in the Dominican Republic, fearful of the fungus that was threatening their concentrated production, had moved many of their plants to the fertile area around the market. They were in discussion with various organic chocolate makers about opening up chocolate production.
The companies from the United States, Motts, Ocean Spray and Snapple who exported apple, cranberry and fruit drinks to the Dominican Republic ,agreed that it would be more lucrative to collect their used bottles through re-cycling and fill them with local juices produced on Hispaniola. Their plant was just completed and already the mango and pineapple and lime sellers had begun to bring their products to be sold there.
The Coca Cola company in both Santo Domingo and Haiti agreed to start a recycling project for its plastic bottles and began to offer a deposit on the bottles. There was a noticeable improvement seen on the streets and beaches of both countries. In the industrial zone by the capital, they began to produce plastic blocks and paving material out of the materials. These were among the most popular items sold at the market.
The German solar panel manufacturer who had agreed to lend its technical assistance for the construction of the market, saw that there were enough skilled workers present and decided to open up a manufacturing base to take advantage of the profitable trade agreements with and proximity to the United States. Also, the Swedish manufacturer of energy efficient refrigerators, washers, dryers and other small appliances had started discussions on building a plant next to it.
The governments of the two island nations had agreed to issue special low priced tourist cards to those who were crossing the border through the market. On both sides of the border, thriving tourist businesses grew, taking visitors on trips to visit Cap Haitian and Fort Liberty and Monte Christi. There were bird watching tours, snorkeling trips, cultural exchanges and camping tours. On both sides of the border, there were a growing number of small bed and breakfasts. The former trade of sex tourism had declined due to the increased number of family travelers and their sensibilities.
And so it was that by the year 2015, Haiti, the poorest of all the nations in the Hemisphere, reached the goal of reducing extreme poverty in half, drastically cut down on infant mortality, fostered the education and equality of women. Forgiving the world for all the pain it had suffered, it became the beacon to the world as was always its destiny.
I see the border between these two nations as a wound in need of stitching. I have been daily visualizing a great ribbon of love going back and forth between the nations as through the holes in a shoe, like a bootlace of love, bringing together the divide, healing the wounds, making the island whole, united in harmony. Here is how it appeared.
I would focus in on the Massacre river, on the Haitian side at Ounaminthe, the big field there on the other side of the bridge, covered as it is now with plastic trash, bordering on the river where the women and children went to wash their clothes. I would bring a chair, and an umbrella, two big cartons of avocados and a box of large black plastic trash bags.
The children would approach, curious, as children are. I would show them the avocados and the bags and then we would walk together picking up all the trash. When a bag was full, I would trade them an avocado for the trash. Somehow, despite my lack of Kreyole, I would explain that they were to bring me back the pits - in a few days or a week - and a jar. We would start an avocado farm. Soon we would also grow bamboo, for food and furniture and weaving. Soon we would have a commercial chicken farm with fresh eggs.
The vision continued as on the other side of the road, men were building an incinerator for burning the trash.
When the field was cleared, we would begin moving rocks into a great circle, creating a sacred space where we could sit together in equality and silence.
First we would sing. We would chant. The drummers would arrive. We would raise a cone of power for the healing of the earth. Magic began to permeate the air as the hope was raised. Haiti=Eden. Hispaniola=Heaven. The Angels gathered round.
Near the edge of the field, the men were building a latrine, covered space so that the women would have privacy. Soon there would be well, with running water, lines for hanging the wash, tables for sharing food.
The market itself, a gift from the people of the world, was built with strong wire walls for protection while it was in its growth as an area of free commerce, between the two free people, both citizens of democracies. The land of the market belonged to both nations, and to neither. It was encircled with two storied buildings of concrete, strong walls, solid roofs to keep out the rain, electricity and running water from solar panels. It was completely self contained and self sustaining. While it was primarily a place of commerce, it was evident that this market represented a concern for something far greater even than money. This was a manifestation of a new sort of world.
Each morning upon the opening of the market, and each evening at the close, a loud bell chimed. Everyone present assembled in a circle. Then sang, first the anthem of one nation, then the anthem of another. And in reverse at the close of day.
The upstairs of the market was a living school, a constant educational experience. Here there were free internet connections for those who were enrolled in ongoing university training. In order to pay for their education, the older students were obliged to give equal time to teaching the younger ones. Everyone was learning everything in four languages, as it is easy for children to learn that. Signs were printed in Kreyole, Spanish, French and English. The market itself had a multilingual web page where orders for hand made goods, juices, preserves, could be placed.
There was a radio station next to a music room full of instruments so that musicians from both sides of the border could come together in harmony in the loving language of music. Linked with Radio for Peace International at the UN University for Peace in Costa Rica and broadcasting in French, Spanish, and English, it provided language lessons and hopeful news from around the world on global progress toward the Millennium Goals.
Next door, were the craft studios, with tools and teachers for embroidery, leather working, painting, the heartfelt language of illiterates.
Every inch of the market was a classroom. There was ongoing instruction in how to produce enough for a family to eat on a small piece of ground. There was ongoing instruction from the micro-enterprise institutions on finance, book-keeping, and loans group loans available. Teams were busy building solar ovens and sand water purifiers. Alternate energy was being produced by bicycles. Instruction was being given on how to safely use grey water for irrigation, on how to construct self-composting toilets.
There was a dorm room where visiting presenters, experts in alternative energy, alternative construction, such as straw bale and rammed earth construction, could stay during their two week tours.
The health clinic, staffed with volunteers from around the world, and operating under a grant from the Gates Foundation, had an ongoing Aids testing and educational programs and provided access to inexpensive retroviral drugs. It also provided classes on balanced nutrition, basic first aid courses construction of sanitary facilities, prevention of water borne diseases, and distributed mosquito nets for the protection from malaria and dengue. Equipment for the establishment of small medical outposts was available to those who had completed the required training.
The former free trade zone, which had failed due to lack of a co-operation from the people, on the edge of the market, was now firmly enclosed within the bounds of the market, It had been transformed into a refugee center and recycling station. Daily more Haitians returned from their hard exile in the sugar cane fields and brothels and construction work in the Dominican Republic.
Haitian and Dominican citizens in the Diaspora as well as people of good will from all over the world had all contributed enough for the upkeep of the center‘s. returning exiles who were first healed and cared for as they learned new skills. No one could live there for more than 6 months, in order to make room for the new returning exiles.
All the used goods that came into Haiti from the United States were brought here. The goods were laid out on great tables and sorted through. The valuable shoes with famous logos, such as Nike, which could be purchased for under $5, would be repackaged to export back to the streets of American cities, where they would be sold for $50, under half the retail price. The clothing that was made of natural fibers, cotton, wool, silk, rayon, would be cut into pieces to be reworked into quilted bags and clothing. The pretty evening dresses and blue jeans (except those that were going to be hand embroidered or turned into skirts) would be sold onto the Dominican side of the island along with the finished crafts that came out of the studios. These crafts would also be exported to fair trade outlets in the United States and Europe.
There was one big office where all the non-governmental organizations that were operating in Haiti or for the development of the Dominican Republic to reach the Millennium Development Goals had their programs described and represented.
The center of the market held stalls for the merchants, shielded from the sun. Here were the best of all the Haitian handcrafts, the finest selections of Dominican cigars, the freshest organic produce, cakes, jams, hand made brooms and clothing.
Near the outer edges were the animal stalls where the Heifer Project and various agencies were conducting classes on how to care for the chickens, goats and small pigs. Once the classes were completed, groups of women would be given the animals for their own care with the stipulation that the first born of any animal would be given away to someone who had none. Next door were the community orchards.
In the river, running through the center of the market, fresh water fish were being raised for market.
Outside the market, the fields on both the Haitian and Dominican sides were being daily put into profitable production. With the assistance of Stoneyfield Farms, the largest organic yogurt maker in the United States, and Dannon, its new parent company in France, the small local Haitian yogurt co-operative, Lait Agro Pro, had expanded its operation deep into all the regions in Haiti and had a new bottling plant near the market. In its cooperative effort with the Bee Keeper’s alliance on the Dominican side of the river, all the farmers were now producing both yogurt and honey. With the assistance of Burt’s Bees, a progressive company in the United States, they were now producing lines of soap, facial creams, and flower essence oils.
The chocolate producers in the Dominican Republic, fearful of the fungus that was threatening their concentrated production, had moved many of their plants to the fertile area around the market. They were in discussion with various organic chocolate makers about opening up chocolate production.
The companies from the United States, Motts, Ocean Spray and Snapple who exported apple, cranberry and fruit drinks to the Dominican Republic ,agreed that it would be more lucrative to collect their used bottles through re-cycling and fill them with local juices produced on Hispaniola. Their plant was just completed and already the mango and pineapple and lime sellers had begun to bring their products to be sold there.
The Coca Cola company in both Santo Domingo and Haiti agreed to start a recycling project for its plastic bottles and began to offer a deposit on the bottles. There was a noticeable improvement seen on the streets and beaches of both countries. In the industrial zone by the capital, they began to produce plastic blocks and paving material out of the materials. These were among the most popular items sold at the market.
The German solar panel manufacturer who had agreed to lend its technical assistance for the construction of the market, saw that there were enough skilled workers present and decided to open up a manufacturing base to take advantage of the profitable trade agreements with and proximity to the United States. Also, the Swedish manufacturer of energy efficient refrigerators, washers, dryers and other small appliances had started discussions on building a plant next to it.
The governments of the two island nations had agreed to issue special low priced tourist cards to those who were crossing the border through the market. On both sides of the border, thriving tourist businesses grew, taking visitors on trips to visit Cap Haitian and Fort Liberty and Monte Christi. There were bird watching tours, snorkeling trips, cultural exchanges and camping tours. On both sides of the border, there were a growing number of small bed and breakfasts. The former trade of sex tourism had declined due to the increased number of family travelers and their sensibilities.
And so it was that by the year 2015, Haiti, the poorest of all the nations in the Hemisphere, reached the goal of reducing extreme poverty in half, drastically cut down on infant mortality, fostered the education and equality of women. Forgiving the world for all the pain it had suffered, it became the beacon to the world as was always its destiny.
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