13745: Hermantin: Haiti through the eyes of an American (fwd)

[Bob Corbett <corbetre@webster.edu>]

From: leonie hermantin <lhermantin@hotmail.com>


Haiti through the eyes of an American
By Yasmine Abellard

November 18, 2002

Port-au-Prince, Haiti · I awoke to the familiar morning call of the rooster,
the sensation of the temporary cool breeze entering the half-opened door,
the ferocious barking of dogs in the distance, the chirping of nearby
birdsand the sun's smooth rays through my window.

I also noticed tracks of mosquito bites on my arms. It is 7:30 on a Sunday
morning.

I was born in the United States, but shortly was sent to Haiti to be raised
by my grand-parents. I returned to the U.S. at the age of 9 and, until this
visit, had not gone back since.

During my years in the States, I had been conditioned with a negative
perception of Haiti. However, I did not want to believe that Haiti -- the
second country to have won its independence in the Americas (after the U.S.)
and also a prosperous French colony at the time -- was in a devastated
state. I also did not want to believe that Haiti, where I had received an
honest childhood, was a political dirtrag waiting to be washed.

And so last year, at the age of 21, instead of visiting my native state of
New York during winter break, I decided to reacquaint myself with Haiti. I
wanted to affirm my belief that, despite its impoverished state, Haiti
continually held a natural beauty in my eyes.

On the drive to my aunt's house, I was not shocked by Haiti's depleted
condition. Then again, I was so ecstatic to be back, that even when the
electricity went out for the night, a smile still lit my face.

I also quickly adapted to the absence of running water in the house:
expertly pouring water into the toilet tank, enabling it to flush; bathing
with a 5-gallon container of water in place of my multifunction shower head;
using a 28-ounce water container as I brushed my teeth. You could say I
became a conservationist.

On the other hand, when I was taken to my cousin's luxuriously contemporary
house in the mountains of Boutillier, there was no need to worry about a
shortage of electricity. Driving up to the house, I marveled at the grandeur
of its architecture. Once inside, I felt as though I'd never left the
States, catching up on the day's news on CNN via satellite.

Through the rest of my trip I garnered, besides much-needed rest, fuller
observations of Haiti.

I must say that driving in Florida by no means compares to the island
traffic. Imagine driving on unpaved roads with not one traffic light in
sight, as you fight your way into a small gap between two cars trying to
turn a corner. The phrase "watch for pedestrians" no longer applies, as you
forcefully drive amidst crowds who may not realize that you want to get home
in 15 minutes, not two hours! In Haiti, every hour is rush hour.

Growing up in Haiti, I recalled the country's heterogeneous peoples, who
varied from skin color to hair texture; the maids, an addition to the common
household, who also served as confidantes; the usual coming and going of
friends, relatives or visitors throughout the day. However, I did not recall
the sight of numerous merchants practically everywhere in the streets,
children pressing themselves onto cars begging for money, and armed guards
situated in places such as gas stations and grocery stores. Some would say
these sights are typical results of Haiti's political unrest, in conjunction
with U.S. intervention.

Haiti is often cited as "the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere." But
I prefer the following description once told to me: "It's not Haiti that is
necessarily poor -- it's the people's mentality that is poor."

In three weeks, I only grasped a slight impression and minimal overview of
the country's degressive reality and maladministered state of affairs, but
Haiti's simple beauty was visible in various ways throughout my short-lived
trip.

I saw beauty as I listened to my aunt's declaration of love for her beloved
Haiti. I saw beauty in the woman who effortlessly carried a weighty basket
of fruit atop her head. I saw beauty in the exchange of words in Creole. I
saw beauty on the streets, as two young girls shared a sugar cane. I saw
beauty in a room of boys animatedly singing to a popular Haitian song of
political change. I saw beauty in the passel of people going about their
ways.

My lasting impression of Haiti's beauty lies in an amalgam of faces of
vitality, laughter, sadness, courage, fear -- and of hope.

Yasmine Abellard is a junior at Florida Atlantic University, and the
multicultural columnist for the University Press, FAU's student newspaper.






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