THe heart OF HAITI

I flew into Haiti with a small problem. The battery for my Haitian phone had inflated to twice its normal size in the months while I was in the USA. I only discovered it days before I was scheduled to fly. There was no way to replace the battery. Without that phone being functional, there was no way I could communicate with anyone in the USA or with the people at my final destination in southern Haiti. I would be in the northern city of Cape-Haitian for several hours waiting for a connecting flight. I don't know anyone in Cape-Haitian that I could call to help me find a phone quickly. 

In Cape-Haitian, I decided to step outside the airport and look around. A white guy sticks out. I was quickly approached by people who offered me a taxi ride or other kinds of help...for a price. I spoke to one man about purchasing a cheap phone, but his price was much too high, even after some negotiating. I decided to pass on that phone. 

Before long, the small crowd of initial "helpers" left me all alone at the front railing of the airport. Eventually, another motorcycle taxi driver drifted by and asked me if I needed a ride. I said that I did not. He began a conversation when he heard me respond in Creole. He had been searching all morning for some work. It was now time for lunch. He had still made no money that day. He explained to me that his yellow vest was a sign that he is part of a taxi-driver co-op. Even with that advantage, he had no customers. I asked him about phone prices, stating the price that the previous gentleman had offered me. He explained, "That's because he is a middleman. If you go downtown you'll get the same phone for $100 (Haitian dollars) less. I can take you there right now. We'll be back in 15 minutes or so." I was not at all willing to ride alone into a city that I don't know with a taxi-driver I don't know.  I shook my head and said, "I can't go downtown."

He said nothing more. I decided to make an offer. I said, "I can send you with the money to buy the phone. It should only cost $400, right?" He seemed willing. I handed him $400. We discussed the details : only a phone, no SIM card, and no minutes. He walked away...happily.

I replayed that image of him leaving for the next 40 minutes.  He seemed quite happy.  Did he look at a friend across the street and laugh as he walked away from me rolling the money into his pocket?  Would I ever see that money again?

I stood at the same place, and I realized that I had no way to identify the man...except for the yellow vest, and they were pretty much everywhere. I went with my feeling that he was a typical, gentle, reasonable person...like every other Haitian I know personally. Would he come back? Or would he avoid the area for a few hours and be $400 richer?

Sometime later in the afternoon, a man in a yellow vest came toward me smiling. He was holding a tiny box. He took the bright green phone out of the box and explained that he had spent every dollar I had given him on the phone. I have no reason to doubt that. I had already decided to bless the man if he indeed kept his part of the deal. I handed him a rolled bill that would equal a pretty good morning of work. He looked down to see the markings on the bill without unrolling it and smiled. We gave each other a hearty "thank you", and he was off.

I familiarized myself with the phone and found out my SIM card had expired from lack of use. I found a street vendor and paid for some more minutes.

I sent a couple of text messages to the USA and called my friends waiting to pick me up after my final flight. As I walked down the street to the departure terminal talking on the phone, the same taxi man was walking up the street with a friend. He noticed me using the new phone. He smiled again and said, "You are all set up."  I replied, "I am perfect. Thank you." 

After 30 years of experience in Haiti, I can say that this Haitian man is nothing unusual. He was willing to help a perfect stranger. He was willing to help a foreigner in his country...having no idea what I might pay him for his service. That is the heart of Haiti. Haiti and its people have gotten a bad name from persistent stories in the press. I guess it is the job of the press to promote bad news...the worst news.

Haitian gangs are real. I can't help being suspicious about the "hand" behind those gangs. I know many, many Haitians and have been through all kinds of stress with them. Violence toward innocent people is not a thing that I have seen.  Somehow, that is the calling card of gangs everywhere they function. Gangs in Haiti are no exception. They work hard to create stories of how ruthless they really are. They compete to have the worst reputation.

There is something foreign about that...something imported. I don't know who started the gangs in Haiti. People offer their ideas. I do know that they have wrecked the capital city completely and are staining the country in general.  When Haitian gang members kidnapped 17 Americans and Canadians and held them for months, I was not surprised when they were all released. I find it hard to image a Hamas level of violence from people in Haiti...based on my experience with people in rural Haiti.

Some force is behind the gangs of Haiti. Gangs don't make weapons, but somehow they are supplied with weapons to spare. They make money off of the people, but the people don't have enough money for the gangs to be rolling in cash...like some videos people circulate. There is something deeper that is using young Haitian men to terrorize their fellow citizens. 

I am praying for those secret hands to be revealed once and for all. Is it about money?  Is it about human trafficking?  I don't know. 

I do know that gangs are not the heart of Haiti. The heart of Haiti is gentle, sweet, and willing to help someone in need...even a foreigner standing in front of an airport who needs a phone. 



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