Memories of Haiti

“We would like to visit Haiti” we said to the local agent at Carr Travel. She reacted with surprise and dismay. “Oh! no.you really don’t want to go to Haiti do you?"
There are so many nicer, safer places to choose from”. The year was sometime in the early nineties and my husband had long before fallen in love with the country and its’ people during brief layovers during his service in the merchant marine. I had never visited but was eager to see for myself this country which had so enchanted him. Fortunately, the owner of the agency, Sally Carr, overheard our conversation and stepped out from her desk at the rear of the office. She told us that she had traveled to Haiti in the past and loved it and she also told us that if we were willing to abide by certain restrictions and stay primarily in Petion-Ville,
a more affluent area minutes away from Port au Prince, she would book our trip. She proceeded to recommend a small, family owned hotel called Villa Creole, rather than a more luxurious, larger one more often frequented by Americans and other tourists.
I recall landing at the small, very rudimentary Haitian airport and waiting in long lines with many forms to be filled out. Finally, a short taxi ride brought us to the Villa Creole; the only hotel I have ever seen that had no front door. A tree lined drive led to a sheltered open patio which housed the front desk. Exotic, flowering bushes were everywhere and as we registered, we could look past the desk and down some steps to a circular dining room with beautiful views of the surrounding countryside. Rooms were in an adjacent two story concrete block type building and these did have their own doors and locks. Furnishings were almost spartan and I wondered if we had made a mistake but that evening’s delicious dinner and expert, attentive service, re-assured me completely.
The hotel had only a few visitors and soon all of us and the staff, became like one family… with impromptu singing to accompany the small but enthusiastic Haitian four piece band that played after dinner. Among the very few Americans staying there were Pat and Jim King from Albia, Iowa. Jim, a retired banker, had volunteered to serve with a government program designed to help modernize the Haitian banking system.
Pat was also volunteering as an English teacher at one of the local schools. They were both thunderstruck when we appeared the first morning at breakfast and Val happened to be wearing a tee shirt emblazoned with” My daughter is at the University of Iowa and is spending all my money”. “Oh! My God… I don’t believe it” shouted Jim as he jumped up to greet us”. We became good friends.
Also at the hotel, was a New York art dealer but she stayed mainly to herself,
leaving early each morning, going off into the surrounding countryside to scout
for paintings and wood carvings. One of the sad consequences of the earthquake is that in addition to the terrible loss of life , there has been great destruction of irreplaceable art, especially of that in the main museum and churches; a legacy of the Haitian struggle for independence. While we did take one or two small trips to nearby towns and also went into Port au Prince to visit the Palace and the museum, most mornings were wonderfully leisurely; delicious breakfast served poolside under the spreading braches of an almond tree which exuded the most fragrant smell. We could watch women coming down from the towns in the surrounding hills, their heads loaded high with many baskets of goods to be sold in the local markets. After breakfast, I usually enjoyed a relaxing swim in the pool, which most mornings, I had completely to myself. When we did leave the hotel, we were usually quickly surrounded by children, chanting”Donnez-moi une penny”. The adult Haitians always had items for sale, only the children asked for money. Despite the obvious poverty, everyone we met appeared neat and clean, good natured and with a wonderful sense of humor. I had admired a small bread basket, just the right size for two people, which was on our table every morning.
Upon our departure, the hotel’s owner graciously gave me one of the baskets and remarked, “To remember your stay with us”. It is still in use every day at our breakfast in Branford and I wonder now if the hotel and the kindly manager are un-hurt and alive.
It finally came time to leave and we reluctantly departed unwilling to return to
a wintry Connecticut and our usual routine. Arriving at the airport, we were surprised by the huge crowds of people. A major snowstorm had hit New York,
closing all the airports. The American airlines representative told us they
would pay for our transportation back to the hotel as well as an additional night’s stay. (Those were the days when airlines still courted customers).
Absolutely delighted to have an un-expected additional day, we happily accepted the
offer.
While I have these warm memories of Haiti, I am fully aware that this poorest of nations, born of a slave revolt which lasted 13 brutal years, has had 32 government coups in it’s 200 year history of oppression by dictators. Even before the earthquake, half the causes of deaths were due to HIV/AIDS, respiratory infections, meningitis, cholera and typhoid. Most Haitians live on less than $2.00 a day, despite the large sums of money poured into the country by both the U.S.and the United Nations. The hope is that finally, as the country is re-built, the help can be distributed in such a way that it permanently benefits the long suffering Haitian people.

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