Excursions to the country

(Have not been able to sort out the photos properly - hope they make some sense...)

Haitians, it would seem, have a special liking for Psalm 91. A few days after our arrival in Cap Haitien we had cause to pray (as a group) for a little girl and her family. When I say” we”, at that time it was Robyn, Dale and me, along with Ma Theo (elderly widow who shares a house with Robyn – and who is a Roman Catholic) and Bernadette (house-keeper and cook, and member of the Baptist Church), along with the family involved. Robyn started her prayer by reading Psalm 91 in a standard French version, and to my surprise, Ma Theo sank to her knees and joined in, and so did Bernadette, and they said it from memory.

Psalm 91 with its’ promises of safety and protection in the presence of God; a God who will cover us with his feathers, and under whose wings we will find refuge...

Tap-taps are seen all over Haiti – they are a vehicle which has a close resemblance to an estate car and a minibus and yet it is actually neither and still seems capable of carrying up to 20 people (or more if the cab roof is used). They are frequently emblazoned with religious sentiment and words of hope – or are they simply prayers for safety?

Psalm 91 was the emblem emblazoned on the one in front of us as we weaved and ducked our way out of Cap Haitien en route to Millot and the ruined palace of Sans Souci – meaning “Without Worry”, or perhaps even “No Worries”...

We had a day off – though not so lucky for the two physios who had to work in the morning for the benefit of three visiting American Rehabilitation Physicians. But at about 2.00pm we all (Robyn in the driving seat, Ross, Dale, Kim and me) set off in a borrowed car for this town which lies about an hour from Cap Haitien.

The roads are terrible, and although the tarmac ones are full of enormous potholes, much of the way is not tarmac at all. We were forced to stop by a very energetic man waving a red flag with an intensity or enthusiasm rarely seen in the UK, as there was some road works going on. A very pleasant French man told us that his firm had been contracted to level and repair the road in three places along the route – but it didn’t seem that these three places were connected in any place.

Anyway after about a 10 minute wait we were off again, except that we weren’t... As we drove off, admittedly over a lot of cut up tarmac and other rubble, there was a lot of unpleasant

grinding noises, and the car lost all power. So now we were stuck in the middle of some roadworks – with half the road only in use, cars coming towards us, and cars stuck behind us. We got out, and pushed the car forward for a few yards out of the immediate bottleneck and it quickly became apparent what was wrong – the drive shaft had disconnected at the universal joint. (I’m sure those mechanically minded will excuse me if I use the wrong term, and those not mechanically minded will recognise that the car would not go, and that something was hanging down from under it!)

I have been stranded in foreign countries before because of vehicles failing, and yet still I am not used to it. And being a natural pessimist wondered how we could deal with this problem. Did pray – but only half-heartedly – and at that point received a text from Lorraine hoping that I was enjoying my day off! It didn’t help matters to know that England were failing to beat the Americans at football at that very moment. But Robyn rang the owner of the car, who arranged to come out with some of his friends to fix it for us. A passing lorry driver had stopped and seen what was the matter, and could tell James exactly what he needed to fix the problem – I think it may have been little more than 4 nuts and bolts and some spanners, certainly no jack was involved.

So we had about an hour in the warmth – there was a breeze and so not too hot, watching and being watched by a selection of villagers, passers-by on foot, bike, motorcycle and Tap-tap, by

horses, mules, donkeys and chickens. There was even one enthusiastic jogger. Someone even volunteered the final result of the England match. We watched the road being graded and cleared and then sprayed with water to keep the dust down – very obligingly he turned off the hose as he past us, but it was fun to see the children running to keep up with the truck and its’ refreshing fountains.

And then Francois, Peter and James all arrived in an open top truck – along with the necessary equipment and an obligatory hammer. Their sentiments were “Your problem is our problem Miss Ro”. Francois and Peter got on with repairing the car, while James took us the remaining 15 minutes to complete our journey – this time on the back of a truck, dusty but fantastically refreshing.

Millot contains a hospital which has a better name than the one at St Justinien, and from all accounts is better equipped and set up to perform more complex surgery. It is a Roman Catholic hospital, and since the earthquake has been set up with a number of tents, or marquees, to act as wards and to provide accommodation for families. But we weren’t stopping there – our destination was Sans Souci - the palace (one of the 8 palaces) built by Henri-Christoph – the first “King” of independent Haiti. The Palace is next to a big domed church, and is near to a citadel – which was also built at the time in fear that the French would return to reclaim Haiti. More can be read about Henri-Christoph on Wikipedia, save to say he was born in Grenada, was a slave, and rose to serve in the French Army and proclaimed himself King. He tragically took his own life in 1820 at the age of 53 – fearing a coup. But the palace he built was at the time very spectacular – covered in mirrors and with a cannon at every window. The building was largely destroyed in the earthquake of 1843, but significant portions remain. Our guide was Charlo – and he spoke understandable, if quaint English: “this is the kitchen guard for if someone want to poison the feed”...

Our journey back was fantastic, as Kim and I opted for the open-top truck all the way home, which included the briefest wetting of sea-spray as we passed the coast – wind and waves stirring up the water. The journey finished with us teaching Peter to count in English – we had reached 35 when Enoch’s house was reached.

Bernadette had made some fantastic soup, and for the first time for a few day I was actually hungry. Church tomorrow – Enoch’s choir is leading some of the worship for one of the Harvest Festivals, and we have been warned that it will be very crowded... Pretty sure I will sleep tonight whatever the weather or power situation.