Mountains Can Be Poor too

Mountain Community of Chevraine

The country of Haiti is surrounded by a hillside of beautiful mountains visible from every corner of the island. At first glance I took in the beauty, and assumed the visible divinity of the mountainside would leave them unscathed from the destruction left behind on the ground below. However, I soon found out that the mountains also had their own land claims with severe economic and infrastructure issues. It was unfortunate that poverty had one virtuous quality; it did not discriminate.    

The following is a brief recap of my journey to visit the mountain community of Chevraine, Haiti.

We left camp in the morning; I was told that any trip to the mountains would likely need an entire day. I rode shotgun as usual, with our designated driver beside me, and my friend, translator and guide Joel in the back along with his girlfriend. I liked explaining useless western customs to Joel like shotgun, and told him that if he ever called shotgun before me the front seat was his. He was very a humble man, and he wouldn’t have ridden in the front even if he ever did remember the shotgun rule (he never did). While soft spoken and not particularly confident in personal interactions, Joel was an amazing public speaker. He had that stoic Obama style speaking method which made even the smallest thing he said seem important, and he combined it all with his inherent wit and charm. In one speech to a poor Haitian community I recall him starting by piling two different types of rocks into a glass, and then turning it into an awesome metaphor about working together to rebuild the country. His translations did wonders for me with the locals. On one occasion we went to buy food and supplies for an orphanage at the local market, and I was getting the normal stares from the people. One Haitian lady who became our charcoal saleswomen asked Joel “how does he kiss his girlfriend with that beard?” I replied to Joel; tell her “looks like you want to find out”. Joel repeated it in French and everyone laughed and giggled. We made a good team, like Michael (the black guy) and Jin (the Korean guy) from Lost season 1. Now that I think about it, he looked a bit like Michael too. The earthquake had taken his father, and he left a steady teaching job in the Dominican to help with the reconstruction of his country. This mountain community was something he wanted me to see, and was a project of his, along with a makeshift school that taught older people to read and write.   In a country where scams and corruption are the norm I was glad I had a genuine man as my guide throughout my stay.

After a 90 minute drive through roads, gravel and water streams that are not meant to be driven on we arrived at the foot of a river, with the mountains waiting on the opposite side. We stopped here and ate sandwiches made by Joel’s girlfriend, and handed some out to the local kids. This is where I met Moses, who arrived with guides, horses and donkeys that would help us across the strong river current which was almost waste high.

Then began a 45 minute horseback ride up the mountain. My donkey seemed to be going slower then everyone else’s, and I yelled out to Joel. He replied back to me “they told me your donkey is pregnant, go easy on her!” The view got better and better as we reached the top, and at times I caught myself in awe staring at the mountainside when I should have been directing my horse on the fairly narrow and rocky path. Eventually we reached a house, and sat in the corridor. My friend Joel and I were greeted with smiles and ‘bonsieurs’. We washed up and went into the kitchen area. A veggie meal had been specially made for me, which could not have come at a better time. Rice, beans, boiled vegetables, and plantanes, it was the norm in Haiti for a vegetarian. I was especially grateful they made special considerations for me atop this mountain. During my meal I found myself looking up at the incredibly tall trees which had coconuts hanging from them.  Quickly a teenager caught a glimpse of my gaze and murmured something in Haitian Creole, which I’m guessing meant “do you want one?” Without waiting for my response he began climbing the enormous tropical tree, and with a machete in his hand he cut down a couple of coconuts. The freshness of the coconut water was absolutely amazing. The hospitality reminded me of home, a character trait that resonated with my Punjabi background.

After the meal we participated in a community meeting, which had a mix of elders and youth taking on an active role as elected officials (take note Sikh community?) I introduced myself here, and explained the role of Khalsa Aid, along with some funny comments about my unique appearance. Everyone seemed receptive and smiled and laughed as Joel translated to them. The delay in any communication I had with people in Haiti was like a bad dubbed foreign movie.  The children shyly came for a glimpse of me and then would quickly run behind their older siblings or parents. While much of Haiti is now use to seeing foreign aid workers walk their streets, up in these mountains it was probably the first time these kids had seen a non Haitian. Of course they were curious about my dastaar (turban) and hair, so I explained the basic teachings of Guru Nanak Dev ji Maharaj. All my statements were met with head nods of approval; Guru Sahib’s message truly is universal. Unlike the majority of the world, In Haiti the locals rarely associated my appearance to that of a Muslim. It made me feel comfortable that the stares were out of genuine curiosity, and not a fearful predisposed perception that I was a turban wearing terrorist. In fact, the most commonly used term to describe me was Jesus. I would regularly hear “Jesus” murmured under someone’s breath as I walked by.

 After meeting Moses and immediately developing a friendship with him, everyone began joking about Jesus and Moses side by side on donkeys riding up the mountain. Our driver Amos, whose name was also a biblical reference, was later added to the run on joke.

This community of approximately 5000 had a severe lack of several basic necessities. Clean water, a hospital, and a school to name a few. However, there were clear attempts to become a progressive community, the land that had been cleared for construction of a school was an indication of this. I felt the meeting wasn’t as productive as I wanted, but after a conversation later with Joel I realized that building an entire community with almost no infrastructure from scratch would take years. This was only a meeting for me to come and see the situation for myself.

 Dark was beginning to set in, and we had spent more time here then expected. As we began our descent down the mountain it was becoming more and more dangerous as the darkness hid every bulging rock and crevice. It wasn’t long before an older lady grabbed me by the arm, and began directing me down the mountain as if I had known her for years. She must have walked this mountain thousands of times, and it seemed as if we were walking in bright daylight. Her motherly instincts were a stark reminder of the universal oneness of mankind, and that love and kindness were traits that broke down any racial or class distinctions.

About half way down our procession stopped. I could sense the seriousness of the conversation, and I quickly asked Joel to tell me what was going on. He informed me that they wanted us to stay the night, as crossing the river at this time might be dangerous. Without waiting for my response, he quickly told them that we had to get back, and so the journey continued.When we reached the river I braced for a very strong current. I was held by both arms by two men, which made the short journey across a lot easier. We quickly said our goodbye’s and drove back to camp in darkness.

Throughout the following week Joel had told me that the mountain people wanted me to come back. It was on the second trip that I gave into the requests and I showed my kes (hair) to the mountain people. Initially it was met with a bit of a gasp, and then followed by claps and smiles. The second trip would be my last, and some of the goodbyes were emotional. It was only two days but I had made several friends on these trips up the mountains of Haiti, ones that will bring me back to Haiti in the future.

JL - A Genuine Man of the Peoples

It took Jack Layton 8 years to take his party from political obscurity to becoming the official opposition. It was a political upset on the scale of the miracle on ice, or Buster Douglas beating Tyson in 90. It made a rather mundane election into one of the most historic of our time, and I still remember the energy and uneasy anxiety from all parties as the NDP began there swoop into power. As the poll numbers came out we all second guessed the results, and expected them to eventually correct themselves like an overvalued stock. But week after week it started to look more and more like an actual reality; the NDP was going to surpass their stronger, more popular older brother. Finally shedding the title of being a fringe party for so many decades, or if we continue the nuclear family metaphor, the weird little brother who was never allowed to play with the big boys.  It seemed as if the liberal party always had the psychological edge that all older brothers have. They kick their younger siblings ass for so long as kids, that even as they got older the younger brother can rarely take on the older. He might work out more, take MMA at the local gym, but the psychological edge always gave the older brother a deciding edge. And how sweet it must have been for Jack to finally kick some ass. With his genuine 'good guy' yet cool status, and the amount of ass kicking Jack did this past federal election, his initials 'JL' should have become his nickname, and he should have walked into the House to his own DX wrestling theme music.  "At 5,8 weighing in at 150 pounds, 6 year Toronto-Danforth MP, 8 year NDP leader, newly elected leader of the official opposition, J.L!!!" (break it down...tananananaaaa) And the MP's are going crazy!  Followed by Stephen Harper walking in to a course of boo's and 'you suck' chants. 

 Jack Layton will ultimately be remembered for being a man of the people. He was an absolute champion for progressive social causes, and unlike the majority of our politicians, he would not heed to any political pressure to change his beliefs. His first order of business as leader of the opposition provided a post election picture of the Jack that the average Canadian had come to love. The strong relationship with labour Unions was at the core of NDP values. Following the lead of their messiah, the NDP’s 58 hour overnight filibuster against the conservative governments back to work ruling for the Postal Workers Union was a prime example of Jack being Jack. I’m sure labour unions across the country breathed a sigh of relief. For a second they might have been worried, would Layton tweak his loyalties and beliefs to fit into what the Canadian political spectrum had come to see as normal? Of course not, Jake Layton was a genuine man of his word, stood steadfast in his beliefs, and labour in Canada now had a powerful friend in parliament. He was the wrestling equivalent of the 'good guy', and good guys never back stab or piss off their fans. 

Unlike Apple CEO Steve Jobs, who it seems has left the right pieces in place to fill his departure, the NDP is in serious danger of falling back into obscurity. Leaving a reign ‘short like leprachauns’. Other then say Nycole Turmel and Olivia Chowe it is hard to name anyone else of relevance in the NDP. Even the constituents of newly elected NDP ridings could not name you anyone of significance in the party other then the beloved Jack Layton. This became obvious when a MP with little French speaking skill was elected in a French speaking riding, or a 22 year old kid just out University was elected in another. The people obviously voted for strong leadership of the commander in chief, and could careless about the foot soldiers. At present behind the scenes party strategist Brian Topp seems like a front runner. He definitely has labour on his side, having worked for the Credit Union of Central Canada and now as the executive director of ACTRA (the Alliance of Canadian Cinema, Television and Radio Artists). But it is all up in the air, and the political landscape seems wide open for Stephen Harper, and the liberal’s are salivating at their sudden chance at redemption. Canadian politics is definitely getting more interesting.

With his shakespearan esque death, passing away in his political prime and months after reaching the pinnacle of his career, it is hard not to think of what might have been. With his popularity showing no signs of slowing down, and a conservative party that was elected largely on the basis of ‘anybody but the liberals’ syndrome, Jack Layton could have very well have become PM. We have seen crazier things happen before.. I suppose for now, he will remain one of the best PM’s we never had. 

Thank you Mr. Layton, for showing all little brothers that one day we can escape that headlock and kick some ass too. 

R.I.P.