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.