Date: Fri 08-May-1998

Publication: Bee

Author: KAAREN

Quick Words:

Rotary-Haiti-Dot-Baumert

Full Text:

A Hatian Diary: Rotarians On A Service Mission To An Island Of Stark Beauty

And Poverty

(with photos)

Members of the Newtown Rotary Club went to Haiti recently to help the Haitian

Health Foundation, a clinic established by a Norwich orthodontist and Rotarian

about 15 years ago. On this trip, dentist Nicholas Borrello and his wife,

Barbara, were accompanied by Dot Baumert, a Newtown realtor who is a

registered nurse; Dr Nels and Yara Almedia of the Danbury Rotary, and Tina

Lais, a Rotaract student. In addition to working at the clinic, the group

traveled to Haitian villages to perform free dental work on the natives. Parts

of Dot Baumert's daily journal and photographs by Mrs Baumert and by Barbara

Borrello follow:

Dot Baumert:

Friday, February 27

Nick and Barbara pick me up at 3 am. We go to Nels and Yara Alameida's home on

Deer Hill Avenue in Danbury (and) pack up four soft coolers of food including

frozen turkeys, ham, apple pies, pastrami, meatballs. Tina Lais, the Rotaract

student, arrives and we depart.

In Miami, we meet up with Ellen Witsch and Caryl Lucchesi. We board an

American Airlines Airbus for Port Au Prince. The plane is full, including many

missionary groups.

The landing is smooth, the door opens, and I can feel the heat and breezes of

Port Au Prince. As we file into the terminal, there is a Haitian group outside

playing and singing. They just had their Mardi Gras so there are masks hanging

all over.

There are over 300 people trying to get their luggage and coolers and cartons

off the (luggage) carousel and there is a lot of pushing. People are lined up

three and four deep. When we get each piece of our cargo, we hand back and

over and through this press of people. After counting and recounting, finally

all eight of us agreed that all our 27 bags/boxes/coolers made it also. Nick

said that our bags could be searched on entry but thankfully we are all waived

on through.

We are loaded into two vehicles and start our trip through Port Au Prince. We

pass the United Nations compound, wave to the guards up in their armed towers

surrounded by tangles and heaps of razor wire. More compounds of some sort,

many shacks, cows, goats, burros, and chickens wandering about, and (there is)

evidence of a great deal of construction that has been started but now has

stopped. We pass a large group of people washing their clothes in a stream or

by hand in small tubs of soapy water. The laundry also is spread over the

grass and shrubs to dry. People are also bathing in the same water.

Now the buildings become more densely spaced and the crowds of people more in

numbers and activities. Women with huge baskets on their heads. At one point a

boy tries to climb to the top of our truck to the bags, but thankfully our man

on the roof forces him off. There are markets on both sides of the street.

People are selling strange looking food, live chickens, butchered chickens

just hanging on a stick, piles of shoes for sale, piles of tires, clothes

lined up and hanging on a building, shack or fence, fruits and vegetables.

Right next to their workplace are piles of foul smelling garbage.

Our truck grinds up and around and through the throngs of people, and dodges

an occasional car or truck careening through all this. As we get higher, there

is evidence of a better prosperity. We arrive at the Villa Creole Hotel and it

is like entering a paradise in the midst of chaos. Through the marbled entry,

an open air lobby, we see gardens of bougainvillea, lilies, orchids, groomed

greenery.

Saturday, February 28

Early up, breakfast poolside, and back into the trucks with our baggage on

top. As we drove through the same throngs of people, I attempted to take a

picture of a woman. This woman looked at me with murderous eyes, turned her

back on me with her hands on her hips. Caryl told me that those that are

strong into the voodoo spirit world believe that when their picture is taken,

their spirit is taken into the camera away from them. I will be more

considerate of the people when I take their pictures. More piles of items for

sale. I see pigs tied to a tree and some children tied to the same tree so

they don't wander off.

We fly to Jeremy (a town of about 30,000). I gaze down for the first time. I

see the Haitian Health Foundation (HHF) compound with its aqua-colored

buildings. We land on what resembles a gravel road in the middle of a field.

Marisa meets us and again we lug all of our 27 pieces plus our carry-ons, and

they are put on the back of a railed truck. I decide to jump up onto the back

of the truck and then Tina and Barbara join me as Nick shakes his head and

paternally warns us to hold on and be careful. The road is very rough due to

washouts and erosion. I frequently holler to duck as we come too close to low

branches. The scenery is one of tropical beauty, especially along the shore

and cliff edges.

The large steel gate is opened for our arrival in the compound. We are warmly

welcomed by Sister Mary Ann, Sister Mary Mack, Marisa, Phoebe and a group of

young boys. We carry everything up to the third floor with the help of the

boys and men. Settling into our rooms, we are briefed with house rules: one

five-gallon bucket of water per day per person to use for bathing and flushing

as there is a severe water shortage.

We have lunch and a tour of the compound. Ellen is ready to do fluoride

treatments on the children, Nick and Nels to see dental patients. Caryl,

Sister Mary Ann and I set off across the road to the newer HHF-built houses to

round up children. The houses consist of two long buildings, each having three

one-room houses. As we stop at each porch, Sister tells us the story/plight of

each family. (One woman) recently lost her husband, had to sell the farm to

pay the medical expenses, and had to move into the city. The foundation found

her and placed her here.

Sister Mary Ann finds out that I like gardening and guides me to the areas

that she wants me to work at. No leather gloves are to be found so frequently

there is a painful encounter with thorns. I need to escape the thorns so I

start on shrubs, some too big to cut so I break them with my hands, and now I

get attacked by fierce fire ants. Later Caryl and I join Sister Mary Ann in

the huge garage in the ground level of the main building. There are many

stacks of boxes and bags containing donations of clothing, toys, school

supplies, cosmetics, canned foods, and more. We sort and organize this endless

task. The cockroaches are a challenge.

Sunday, March 1

I wake up to the sounds of guard dogs in the compound barking as they are put

back in their cages, and the sound of roosters crowing.

There is so much to do here. There is electrical work, repairing and

rebuilding generators, inventory and bottling of pills, preparing dental

sponge packs and instruments for the field/bush, and on and on.

We drive and stop at the home of the family that Ellen adopted. Ellen delivers

two suitcases of clothing and we take pictures. The home is constructed of

concrete-type composition with a corrugated metal roof. No father is around.

Mother is nursing an infant, there is a toddler clinging and screaming, twin

boys about four years old, plus an older set of triplets. There is a girl

about 15, orphaned and caring for three siblings.

We drive `downtown' (where there are) old buildings with people sitting in

doorways selling various items. On the porch of one building are jugs and

bottles full of a liquid. Men are funneling more of the liquid into smaller

bottles. Sister tells us that this is a gas station. There are a few vehicles,

motor bikes, but mostly people are on foot or burro.

As we drive to a more residential area of huts, Sister looks for and finds the

girl that the Newtown club adopted. She is a pretty little girl, all dressed

up in a pretty dress, big red bow in her hair, and patent leather shoes. What

a contrast this is, in this hovel, in this dirty neighborhood, (with) kids in

rags, some half dressed, some barefoot. There are chickens, muskovie ducks,

pigs; scrawny, wormy looking dogs; people, dust, potholed streets, buildings

that are homes but look like shacks. I think of the worst "shed" at home and

it is better than some of these homes.

We pass along the beach, which was once beautiful but now the sands are black

along the water and littered with everything. We stop alongside one tall

ramshackle building to find another adopted family. As I step out, I nearly

step in excrement and warn the others. Across the "street" I see a dog

defecating and a boy defecating, a few feet apart, and a man urinating out in

the open next to a building wall.

We pass through a narrow passage between two buildings and carefully climb

rickety stairs to the third-floor rear home of another adopted family. This

room is their home: one bed, a small cabinet, pots hanging along with other

belongings. There is an assortment of large pieces of fabric hanging

everywhere. They are proud of this, their home. "My God, this is a firetrap,"

I think. As we leave, a woman begs me to take her picture with her children;

she thinks she gets adopted this way. We have to push through the humanity to

get back to our vehicle.

We're off to another street. As we park, we are met by another adopted family,

mother and two children. As we walk to her home with her, we are surrounded by

a mass of humanity, begging, curious, clinging, grabbing. I have cried openly

for some time now. Some of these people look so sick, crippled in some way,

abused, neglected, hungry.

Later (at the HHF compound I) went out to trim the trees. Those boys that hang

around were there to help me. They watch me and start to follow my example.

Again, I am attacked by biting ants and Gregory helps brush them off. These

boys seem so sweet, I wish I could speak their Creole-French.

I help Sister prepare an end-of-the-day depart-for-home package for the eight

boys. Each gets a can of tuna, a can of soup, a couple eggs. After dinner,

Sister takes the four women home that work in the kitchen and do housework and

laundry. One of them takes home the garbage to sell. Sister tells me that they

take anything. There is no central electricity tonight so the streets are very

dark.

Tonight my roommate, Tina, and I enjoy a warm shower via my "solar shower bag"

that was on the roof in the sun all day.

Monday, March 2

It was hard to get up this morning. I am sore and tired. I laid back down for

a spell and missed Mass. Breakfast at 7 am and the preparations to go out into

the bush/field. Three dental chairs are loaded on the back of a pickup truck,

our supplies for the dental clinic that we will set up, and the lunch prepared

for us in a cooler. The road is so rough from erosion and loose clumps of hard

soil and rock. Sometimes the vehicles slow down to a stop to navigate the road

and streams. This makes the worst road in Newtown, Platts Hill, look like a

paved road.

We arrive in a place called Carrfaur Prince where we are met by the people of

the area. Most of them are "dressed up" for the day at the dental clinic. One

steel dental chair is set up under a giant almond tree against the giant roots

that extend out and people are sitting on. This chair must be from a 1900

dental office somewhere and now is Ellen's dental hygiene clinic. The two

remaining dental chairs, circa 1940, are propped up against the

building/schoolhouse.

Ellen must have given at least 100 fluoride treatments and demonstrated

toothbrushing. Each juvenile left with a toothbrush and some little gift. Our

interpreter, Albar, ran between helping us communicate. I assisted Nick with

extractions, Tina assisted Nels, and Barbara and Yara were in charge of the

instruments (organizing, cleaning and chemically sterilizing). ...After each

extraction, we dumped the used instrument in a bleach, soap and water solution

and then Yara scrubbed the instruments, then again in an antiseptic solution,

and finally in a bleach and water solution. The instruments were lined up on

surgical green towels on a table where the hot sun sterilized them so that

they burned when we held them.

At least six people were anesthetized at a time after a needs assessment. Then

Nels and Nick extracted the previously agreed upon tooth or teeth. Many of the

teeth were broken, worn, loose, infected. Many more could have been restored

(if the work could have been done) in better conditions, such as the clinic

back at the compound. When we were finished, we pulled 89 teeth from 39

patients.

Back at the compound there is more dental work to be done. I spend the rest of

the day in the great garage sorting out supplies. I'm so tired that the

hundreds of baby cockroaches that fall into my hands don't even bother me.

Tuesday, March 3

Mass together at 6 am with the beautiful sunrise so visible coming up over the

ocean and shoreline. After breakfast, the preparations (are) like the day

before except today there will also be a medical clinic. We are off to Fouach.

This time we drive ... out into the countryside along a wide river. Finally we

turn to cross the river. The truck remains behind, and we pile everything into

the two vehicles that can navigate the river crossing, and then go up into the

hills until the rough road stops on a hillside. No more road.

Out of the wilderness appear many people eager to help carry everything,

including the dental chairs, up and into the village. There is a clearing

where we start to set up. More room is cleared by sweeping away forest and

human debris, and shooing the pigs away.

The dental work gets underway like yesterday. I am set up on a porch doing

blood pressure screening. There is a lot of hypertensive disease among African

people, especially the women. As I identify a possible problem, an interpreter

consults and in some cases the Haitian nurse does more intensive teaching, or

even in some cases recommends further follow-up in the town in the clinic or

hospital.

One very sick looking young man shows up with his parents. He is diagnosed

with severe tuberculosis and hospitalization is recommended. His parents

deliberate the fact that they must make the day-long walk back to their home

to sell something so that they can afford to take him to the hospital. During

all this, chicks, hens, and roosters casually walk about, under me and through

my legs. I see a new child-size casket being carried past for someone's

occupancy.

This village has an outhouse -- we're up in the world. During the entire day,

a turkey insists on roosting in there, even during its occasional use.

A child with a huge infected gash is brought in for treatment. The nurse

insists that this child be taken immediately to a hospital. The nurse explains

to me that if the child is treated here, the family will assume that they have

been taken care of, and will not do anything else. This child needs extensive

treatment, and fast. These people need to be educated in so many ways and to

learn how to help themselves.

Many of the mothers, after seeing the pictures of healthy babies on formula

cans, think that this is the way to have healthy babies like American babies.

(But) these people do not have running water in their homes, no sanitation,

nor the knowledge to prepare the formula correctly. The medical people are

trying so hard to re-educate the importance of breast feeding by rewarding and

recognition. One of the babies I held looked so chubby, but in fact this baby

had the serious disease of Kwashiorkor -- a result of malnourishment. There

are some babies covered with scabies, some with lice.

On the ride back, I join Betty on the back of the truck to get the wind and a

higher view of everything. This really is a beautiful country.

Back at the compound to do more work in the gardens. Later more sorting of

supplies in the garage until dark. Nels is finishing up the wiring and trying

to make a generator work with Sister Mary Ann. She is up at 3 am every day and

going incessantly at one project or another. She has worked with the lepers in

India, worked in the Far East, knows five languages, and is so full of life

and lore.

Wednesday, March 4

Today off to a place called Paroty. I did not think that the roads could

possibly be any worse but today there are so bad they are frightening and

treacherous. Sometimes at the edge of a precipice I considered getting out and

walking; it definitely would have been easier.

As everyone set up, I wandered a short distance away to take pictures of the

beautiful vista. I also found a small still, running full blast and smoking

away. Back to work. Our day was cut short by a downpour. We (got) stuck in the

mud once. The people put rocks and dried banana branches in the ruts so that

we could make it. Our plan had been to return early to finish up the

electrical work and the generator repair.

Our last night at HHF. Tonight at dinner everyone is melancholic. We all take

our turns sharing what this past few days has meant to us and how we feel. I

shared that I felt like I had looked into the face of God a million times in

all aspects -- suffering, wanting, gratefulness, etc.

Thursday, March 5

After breakfast, Sister Mary Ann asks me to go down into the town with her and

help find the Haitian almond bread that everyone wants. The first bakery we

arrive at was full of flies and some of the bread was covered with flies. We

choose the remaining two loaves from inside a cupboard -- no flies. On to

another bakery that is nicer and cleaner but still some flies. Here I pick out

more loaves of the almond bread. On our way back we drive up and down a few

more streets. Here is the furniture maker -- hand-tooled furniture, pretty. I

see a beauty shop; primitive.

It is time to load our bags on the truck and depart for Jeremy airport. The

goodbyes, hugs and farewells are difficult. At the airport, our bags are

inspected, only because (an) official is observing. Back to Port Au Prince,

the wall of people, the crazy traffic, the clean cool Villa Creole Hotel.

Barbara Borelli:

It was culture shock again. To be able to turn on a faucet with both hot and

cold running water, shower and most of all flush a toilet was wonderful.

Things that we take for granted every day, power and water, are precious

commodities in Haiti. HHF is like an oasis in the middle of a desert. They

give hope of a better tomorrow to these people. I want to return again. The

life these people live is very simple and spiritual. There is no suicide rate

in Jeremy. Sixty-six percent of mothers nurse their babies for at least six

months. That is higher than the average in the United States. The percentage

of children receiving vaccinations is higher than Hartford. So in a way there

has been some progress.

Haiti, rich in beauty, has such potential for growth, but it must first secure

a regular continuous supply of electricity and power for growth to occur.

What I will always remember is the smile on a child's face upon receiving a

small bag of basic supplies, and the look of sadness on Gregory's face as we

said "goodbye."