Ayiti

I arrived in 1997 and spent six months in Haiti as part of the US Support Group, more specifically I was the Commander of the Force Protections Operations Cell. In plain English, I led a group of servicemen and women. Our principal mission was to ensure the safety of US Troops engaged in civil-affair type projects such as building schools, digging wells, and providing medical aid and assistance. We met with local Haitian leaders often and wandered the streets of Port-au-Prince, including Cité Soleil.

A few days after arriving and while transitioning with the unit we were replacing, we drove to the Killing Fields. (I can't recall who named it so, but the reason was clearly evident as I walked the terrain.) Rumor was that victims of the Duvalier regime were dumped here. Years after Baby Doc was deposed, bodies still found their way to the mass graveyard.

A few feet from our vehicle I found a human skull. This one stood out from the many others in my path. Tiny land crabs were eating away at the brain tissue still attached to the bone, an allegory of the predatory dissonance I would often encounter...lurking in plain sight.

Cité Soleil was my favorite place to visit once we left our camp. We talked to community leaders and listened. When we were able to, we helped. Here is a photograph taken by a Marine during one of our first forays into Cité Soleil. 

My predecessor emphasized that an Army officer's cover (a hat in civilian parlance) was a coveted prize and that I should be on the lookout for fleet-footed hat snatchers, so I often placed it in my BDU's cargo pocket. A few minutes after this picture was taken, I made the mistake of reaching into the back of the HUMVee and handing a bottle of water to a young boy. Before I new it, people were climbing over me in a mini-riot to grab the remaining bottles in the cardboard case. In seconds, it was over. I was more surprised than alarmed by the brief choreography of mob rules, but the lesson was valuable. Distributing anything in a crowd was a risky proposition.

I saw evidence of the brutality of street gangs, and the ravages of disease.  But there were lighter moments. One of my fondest memories, was patrolling the streets during a partial solar eclipse. Days before the eclipse, Haitians were saturated with warnings--"Do not look at the sun.  If you look at the sun you will go blind." While driving along a deserted road we saw a man. He had a cardboard box on his head with holes cut out on the front so that he could see where he was walking. He held a rope in his hand. At the other end of the rope, walking ahead of him, was attached (by the neck) a white goat. The goat also had a cardboard box around its head with holes cut out on the sides of the box. As we drove past the man, I pondered the complexities of translation. I smiled at the creative interpretation gone astray, as it walked along that deserted road.

Haiti is a difficult place.  We keep sending bandages, and dressing the wounds. But, the problems are deeper. My first day in country I learned the Creole phrase for "What's happening?" Sak Pasé?  The answer is N'ap Boule, literally "nothing is boiling." After my six-month tour was over, I realized that Haiti is always boiling, and many times...it boils over.