The Jacob Incident

The past week has seen some high emotions and major drama on base. What follows is mainly for the benefit of former HODR members. They have been getting only bits and pieces via Facebook and email, so I wanted to post a brief overview of events.

(On the other hand, I've been thinking that the events of the past week would make a good case study for a sociologist or business school student on group dynamics in a maturing all-volunteer organization.)

I welcome comments and corrections.
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The Jacob Incident


Tuesday morning, Ray and I went to get coffee from the Coffee Lady across the street. As we returned with cups of joe, I picked up some garbage on the front steps just outside the gate. It was a stack of small photocopies. I glanced at it and said “Hey, Ray, take a look at this...” We read through it. And after a moment, Ray said, “Oh, shit.”

The note was from “some local volunteers” on behalf of “all local volunteers”. It made the assertion that Jacob, one of the two paid translators on base, should be fired because he is from Gonaives, not from Leogane. In his place, HODR should hire a translator from Leogane. Another option was proposed, that all local volunteers should be converted to paid positions. At the end of the note, there was a sentence that I will paraphrase: “If you don’t do this thing, we can be sorry for Jacob.”

Jacob has been working with HODR since 2008, near the beginning of the Project Gonaives in Haiti. He worked closely with HODR toward a successful conclusion of that project in March 2009. When Marc and Stef, International Operations Director and International Project Director respectively, came to Haiti shortly after the earthquake of January 2010, they contacted Jacob as a trusted advisor and talented translator to help set up the project in Leogane. Anyone who has worked with Jacob knows that he an excellent translator and a fine human being – an asset to the organization.

Ray and I said, “This is serious.” I took a copy into the office and gave it to TC, the Local Volunteer Coordinator. I said to TC, “Take a look at this, I think it’s kind of big deal. Especially look at that last line (the threat).”. He took it seriously, and stood up to go speak to other staff members. In the meantime, Ray had met Stef in the courtyard. She was holding the letter and they were talking about it. I said to Stef, “Kind of a big deal, huh?” Stef said, “Oh, we’ve had things like this happen before.” In light of how subsequent event have played out, I find the response surprising and a little jarring.

The next installment was that Jacob stood up at Wednesday’s meeting and said he was leaving the project. I was surprised, as I think many people were. I assumed that there were other reasons, because I thought surely a mild threat from a coward who thought he might be able to manipulate the system would never be sufficient to make a good man leave the program. A further thought was that, if Jacob was leaving because of the threat letter, the response was handled poorly by HODR staff and management.

(OK, that’s the end of the narrative for now. I may get back to it when I have more time. What follows is a more stripped-down day-by-day account. Comments are welcome.)


Tuesday A flier is found on the front steps of the base saying Jacob, who is from Gonaives, should be fired and a Leogane resident hired in his place. There is a meeting with local volunteers, informing them that the local volunteer program is being suspended. Local volunteers are shocked and hurt. Local volunteers later have their own meeting to discuss the situation.

Wednesday Stef leaves town. Jacob stands up at the evening meeting to say he is resigning from HODR, and going home to Gonaives. We subsequently learn that it is because of fear for his safety, as a result of the flier.

Thursday Jacob decides not to resign. Plans made by HODR management to suspend the local volunteer program. These plans are later modified to maintain the local volunteer program, but in a much-reduced form.

The evening meeting goes long, with much discussion. International volunteers express a concern that suspension or reduction of the program will punish local volunteers over an act for which they are not culpable. Much angst. There is unanimous agreement among international volunteers that this has been handled unfortunately, in a way that has the appearance of holding local volunteers responsible for actions of one individual, who may not even be a local volunteer.

TC begins discussing plans to resign.

Friday  Lunch meeting. Some local volunteers come forward to name two Leogane residents responsible for writing and distributing the letter threatening Jacob. These two guys were former local volunteers who were asked to leave the program, and have been hanging around since that time.

Long evening meeting with much discussion. Chris reads a letter from Stef, who is still in Los Angeles. She outlines minor modifications to the reorganization, but indicates plans will go forward for reorganization Monday. Meeting concludes with international volunteers going outside the base to make contact with local volunteers, who have gone home in anger.

Contact is made with five local volunteers, who agree to come to Joe’s. They do some networking among themselves, and four additional local volunteers show up. International volunteers express to the local volunteers that none of them – not a single international volunteer – agrees with the decision by HODR management to suspend or modify the local volunteers program.

TC submits his resignation to HODR.

Saturday Noon meeting. Staff presents plans to go forward with reorganization. International volunteers express a strong sentiment that the reorganization should be postponed for at least two weeks, in order to minimize perception that the restructuring is a punishment for, or in any way connected with, the threat letter.

The local volunteer who came forward to name names is awarded with Local Volunteer of the Week award. The award is TC’s last official act as Local Volunteer Coordinator.

TC reads his resignation letter, which is translated into Creole for the benefit of the local volunteers.
TC leaves the base.

Sunday Marc returns to base....

A Day Of Earthquake Relief at HODR

I sleep on the roof. I have a huge tent with an inflate-o-bed single mattress. It is up on the roof of the former casino building that is our base, along with about 40 other tents. These are the penthouse units. Down on the first floor there are the worker bees, in bunks with mosquito nets, about 80 of them, boys and girls, men and women, all mixed up together.

There are roosters crowing and cows mooing. I wake up without an alarm at 6 am, as the sun starts to heat up my tent. After throwing on my shorts, I stumble downstairs, where I start with a cup of (weak) coffee. One side of our kitchen has an open side - sort of a buffet counter. On the counter, some early risers will have set out a big coffee maker with coffee, thermoses of hot water, boxes of corn flakes, canisters of oatmeal, big tins of powdered milk, plastic containers of sugar, a bag of little loaves of bread, a gallon of peanut butter, and several jars of jam. People wake up, wander over, load up on breakfast, then move to the dining area, which is a dozen plastic tables with steel folding chairs.

At around seven or 7:15, there is a bustle of activity, as people begin gathering to head to job sites. We send about 100 people out every day. There are typically 4 or 5 rubble crews, a team going to the Leogane Mayor’s office, one team building prefab emergency shelters, a team of ‘hospital runners’ assisting at the emergency/transitional hospital, a few people assisting with office work or data entry, and a group going to play with kids at an orphanage. Recently we’ve had two new teams. We just received a container with two new Bobcat tractors. A team takes two Bobcats out to selected rubble sites each day to move the big piles. Another new team just started building a school at a site 30 minutes west of Leogane.

Rubble crews are 6 to 15 people, with a team leader. At 7:30, team members fill water bottles and gather in front of base to wait for transportation. HODR has four trucks-and-drivers on retainer. The trucks, called tap-taps, are the dominant means of getting around in Haiti. (“Tap-tap” because you climb in, sit on a hard bench in the back of the truck, and tap the window of the cab to say ‘go’ or ‘stop’.) When a truck arrives, the crew loads it up with tools – shovels, picks, sledgehammers, rebar cutters, bolt cutters – and 4 or 5 wheelbarrows. Then the work crew piles in the back – yes, that’s 15 people and 5 wheelbarrows in the back of a truck the size of a Toyota Tacoma. It’s a sight to see.

The tap-tap rolls out of the driveway, and drives to the rubble site. On the way, the locals stare, and the kids yell “Hey you!” When we arrive at rubble site, people pile out and unload the tools. The tap-tap returns to base.

Working on a rubble site –

HODR selects the sites the volunteers are going to clear based on several factors. An owner coming to the base and answering questions or filling out a form initiates the process. Then an assessment team will visit the site and make a determination about its suitability for the HODR team. A site will move up on the list if it is: near the base; the residence of a family with children; the residence of a family that has lost some members in the quake; and a family that has a reasonable likelihood of moving forward once the slab is cleared. A site moves down on the list if it is: dangerous – i.e. if the building next door is leaning over and ready to crumble; or is a demolition site (versus a rubble site) – that is, it would require skilled technicians to bring down a precarious and dangerously unstable structure

The site may look like a garbage pile – mounds of broken concrete block and plaster, twisted and rusting steel bar sticking up here and there, a mattress poking up on one side, and a pile of clothing over there under a broken slab of concrete. One thing we try to keep in mind is that this was someone’s home a short time ago. We are preparing to turn what remains of that family's home and belongings into a pile of trash. It's a tough thing, but we try to be sensitive to the family and to the neighborhood.  Every now and then you are brought up short by unearthing a doll, or a pair of baby shoes.  HODR is not, however, working on any sites that contain human remains.  That is for other teams, other NGOs.

The team wheels up to the site with its wheelbarrows. There is one runner for each wheelbarrow. Barrows are deployed around the site, and the crew starts digging. The goal is to get down to the floor slab, so the family has a fresh start. They can return to their site from a tin shack in an IDP (internally displaced persons) camp. With a clear slab, the family can erect a tent or other temporary shelter, and begin to rebuild their lives, with the help of other NGOs. The grand plan is to get the tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, of people out of IDP camps and back “home”.

The crew breaks concrete with sledge hammers, and cuts rebar.  They shovel 1 or 2 hundred pounds of broken concrete block, crushed concrete, and twisted rebar into the wheelbarrows. Then the runners wheel it out to the street and dump it in a big pile. One of the finer points of rubbling is to build a good ramp up the rubble pile – one that allows very heavy barrows to roll cleanly and easily, and dump along the top of the pile. The Canadian Army Corps of Engineers, or other NGOs that have heavy equipment, periodically pick up the piles of rubble along the road.

You may ask why we use sledgehammers and wheelbarrows, why do we not use heavy equipment to clear rubble from home sites. It’s simply because every tractor, every CAT, every jackhammer, every dump truck, every grader, every backhoe in Haiti – even all through Florida and up the Eastern Seaboard – is already at work. There is nothing available. As a little snapshot, in the past 3 months, the price of a wheelbarrow in Port au Prince has gone from 20 dollars up to seventy dollars US.

The job site is a beehive of activity. Wheelbarrows are rolling back and forth to the street. Guys – and gals – are standing on top of slabs of concrete, breaking the concrete away from reinforcing steel with sledges. After the concrete is broken out, somebody comes in and cuts the rebar away, and people with shovels load up the wheelbarrows. Often the owner of the house is working right along side the HODR volunteers. We also have a number of what we call Local Volunteers – people from Leogane who have offered to donate their time to help us. And there are always children. Some of the team leaders joke about the benefits of using child labor on a job site. However, the founder of HODR feels that allowing the children around is a very good thing. The interactions between Haitian children and international volunteers may produce some (granted, impossible to quantify) benefit for the future. It exposes the children to something new. It may make them curious about foreign countries. In addition, it lets them see a bunch of white people who talk funny working very hard to help their little neighborhood.

Mid-day, the tap-tap shows up at the job site for the return trip back to base. The crew loads everything back on the truck, because to leave tools is to lose them. We ride back to base for a hearty lunch of rice and beans and one tiny piece of meat per person and a few leaves of lettuce and one tomato slice per person. Yum. After lunch, there is a long break during the heat of the day. People catch up on email or nap or relax. Then at 1:30, the whole process starts again. Load the wheelbarrows and the team back in the tap-tap, and return to the rubble site. Since the temperature is often around 100 degrees F, and this is such hard work in full sun, there is a mandatory 15-minute water-and-rest break every hour after 45 minutes of work. Even with that, HODR has had frequent cases of dehydration, and occasional cases of heat exhaustion.

Eventually we clear enough rubble to get down to the slab near the front of the house, and begin to work our way toward the back. After a few days, the slab is clear. HODR moves on to the next site. And the family has the opportunity to begin reclaiming some rough outline of life they had before this unfathomable tragedy.

At 4:30 or 5 pm, the tap-tap comes back to the site to pick up the team. After returning to base, there is a little time to get cleaned up before dinner. Then it’s another delicious meal of rice and beans. Or perhaps tonight it’s spaghetti, with a delectable marinara sauce that comes out of plastic Heinz squeeze bottle. Mmmm!

At 6 pm every night (except Sunday), we have an all-hands meeting. The agenda is always the same. First, introductions of new people who have arrived today. Then reports from each of the teams, including rubble sites that have been finished, or special milestones at the Mayor’s office, or reports of new babies or other events at the hospital. Next, it’s an overview of work for the next day – a description of each of the teams going out tomorrow – so people can decide where they might like to work. After that, we have Meeting Notes, which are agenda items from the various HODR volunteers -- things such as: I lost my camera, Clean up after yourself, Was that an aftershock last night?, There is a trip to the beach on Sunday, etc. Then we have signups for chores -- washing dishes and cleaning the floors. Finally, there is an opportunity for people leaving the base tomorrow to say farewell.

After an hour or so, the music gears up at Joe’s. It’s a bar next door, owned by the same man who has rented us the casino building. He started the bar after HODR moved in, and he’s made a pretty good profit. Joe’s has been a great place to blow off steam, get to know the other volunteers, and sometimes mingle with people from other NGOs. Prestige beer is the drink of choice. Sometimes people buy little bottles of Bakara Rhum. A couple of days ago, the rain started falling hard about 8:30. The music was loud and good, so everyone moved out from under the roofs into the open court and started dancing with their beers in the warm rain. A very nice way to end a day of digging in rubble.

There is a 10 pm curfew at the base. Every night Joe shuts off the lights at 9:50. People finish drinks and wander (or stagger) back to the base, and slip in before the gate is locked at 10, and head off to bed.

... Just Sleeping

I had best intentions when I left Seattle.  I was going to post on the blog every day, or at least every few days.  But frankly, it's been tough.  Too busy, computer issues, fatigue, narrow bandwidth, blah-blah-blah.

Let's just say I was busy saving lives and helping those less fortunate.  Yeah, that's the ticket.

I have a new post with a description of a day in the life at HODR Base, coming right up....

Eyes Open Descending Into Haiti

Your first impression as the island of Haiti comes into view below the airliner, is ‘brown and dry.’ A few minutes later the 757 does a wide arc over Port au Prince harbor, and you descend in approach to the Port au Prince airport. You begin to see tents and squatter camps everywhere, thousands of them, far from Port au Prince. People have traveled over the broken landscape for miles to find someplace to squat, someplace to live. There are splashes of blue and tan and purple -- tarps dotting the landscape as far as the eye can see.
The plane descended over miles of destruction. I said “Holy shit” under my breath as I looked out the window.

The news can’t prepare you for the scale. I think the human mind has trouble getting around something like this. There was an older meaning of the word ‘sublime’: something so big you can’t encompass it in your mind, like, say, gazing out over the Grand Canyon. You see it. You can try to describe it. But it’s impossible to fully grasp the extent and scale. That’s how I felt flying in to Port au Prince. You have to see it to believe it, and even then you don’t believe it.

Joseph Teaches Brian Useful Creole Phrases

On the plane from Miami to Port au Prince, I sat next to a nice fellow named Joseph Reynaud. He’s Haitian and speaks english. He was wearing a straw hat, a Hawaiian shirt, and gold chains around his neck. He is exactly ten years older than me. (I know because he asked me to help fill out his customs and immigration forms. I think perhaps he couldn’t read or write. “My eyes,” he said. )

“I live Port au Prince with my wife and kids,” he said. “I have 19-year-old girlfriend in Miami.” He started teaching me how to pick up Haitian girls. He told me Bel fi means beautiful girl.
Mwen me on means I like you.
fam douce = sweet girl
Ou vle mange avec moi?  Do you want to eat with me?
Subtitute bwe for mange to say Do you want to drink with me?
On vle pa se jolie avec moi? Do you want to spend time with me?

Airline Food

I would have liked to take a picture of my AmericanAirlines “meal”. The whole package was like a toy – everything in miniature. A teeny tiny box of raisins, two little crackers wrapped in celophane, and a little miniature Toblerone chocolate bar. Ever since the airline took out that famous olive years ago, the airlines seem to be trying outdo each other in how little food they can give passengers and still pretend they are feeding you.

Leaving US Soil

I settled in to my seat, leaving Miami, traveling to Port au Prince, Haiti. The plane was filled with black people. The in-flight announcements were in French.

I wrote in my journal after I got settled on the flight from Miami to Port au Prince, Haiti, “Well, well, well. I’m on my way. I’m on my way to foreign country. A foreign country where there was an earthquake that killed 230,000 people. My, my, my… Crime, kidnapping, washing out of a bucket for two months. What am I getting myself into?”

"Now twitchy has become the new normal...."

There is a troika of articles in the New York Times that acknowledge the 3 month anniversary of the January 12 earthquake in Haiti.

Here we have a graffiti artist with the gift of sight.

In this article,  the author talks about a post-earthquake return to his home in Carrefour, after an absence of 24 years.

[I'll stop in Carrefour Friday after I arrive in Haiti, on my way to Leogane, to see what help I can offer to a friend of a friend. His name is Douglas, and his father is a community leader, pastor, and schoolmaster in Carrefour. They've had trouble getting any real help from NGOs.]

And here is an article about the gradual return to life -- far from normal, but life nonetheless. "...flashes of light in a landscape that reminds us of life’s brevity."

Laduceur Family Home Devastated in January Earthquake

This video shows work HODR is doing in Leogane, Haiti



Project Leogane Web Page

T-minus Three Days and Counting...

I leave Thursday afternoon for Haiti. I have a 3-1/2 page list of things I need to do before I leave -- I've been in 'frantic' mode for a couple of days. Yesterday I crossed off only five of seventeen tasks I had scheduled for Sunday. I haven't quite entered 'panic' yet. But I did wake with a start at 4:30 this morning, and literally said "Oh sh*t."

Sunday afternoon I met with Cristie, who will house-sit for me while I'm gone. If I entered my ideal criteria into the Housesitter Machine, it would spit out an exact copy of Cristie.  She's kind, responsible, well-recommended, available the exact dates I'm gone, likes cats, is a talented gardener, and likes to clean. And she's excited for the chance to stay here!

Yesterday was a very nice birthday-and-going-away party with my family. I got some cool gear, like a solar charger for my cell phone, an LED lantern, and a new North Face raincoat. Not to mention a come-along (ratcheted pully for moving heavy items) to be donated to the HODR base camp. I have a good family.

 

I expect I'll need the raincoat. In Haiti, it's now moving into the rainy season. From web sites and blogs, I've learned that it's wet in April/May, and "hot, hot, hot" in June. I suppose the heat will give me a chance to dry out.... The base manger in Leogane said it's a good idea to pack along rubber boots.

 

[photo: The growing pile in a corner of my living room -- items that I may take with me. Everything from chocolate to a shovel. The colored chalk is for tagging buildings that have been searched and/or inspected.]

 

In general, I'm very excited. I've been telling friends that this is Brian's Next Big Adventure. I'm a little overwhelmed with details -- finish the almost-complete kitchen remodel, make a list for the housesitter, return library books, get insurance squared away, automate bill-paying, do some fundraising, get the house ready for someone else to live here, notify everyone, stop the newspaper --  but there will come a point on Thursday when I leave for the airport, and there's nothing more I can do.

 

And when I get off the plane in Port au Prince, I'll be hit with heat and devastation and achingly poor people and a new job and the mysteries of a third world county. The feeling I have now is anticipation and excitement. I'm quite certain I'll be consumed with the experience -- how could you fail to be? And all these little details that overwhelm me now will fade and seem inconsequential.

 

Unless... I forget to buy travel insurance, let's say, and need to get airlifted to a hopital in Miami next month because I have a chunk of rebar pinning my fibula to my clavicle. Then that particular detail will rise up again as a pretty critical one that I really should have taken care of...

 

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Your thoughts on the blog, please. When I set up the format, I hit Google's 'Monetize' button -- Google inserts advertisements. I find it a bit distracting (no offense Google), so I might get rid of it. On the other hand, in the few days this has been up, I've already made a blistering one dollar thirty six! In other words, I guess it's no way to get rich... Let me know in the comments section if I should get rid of the ads.

Rebuilding Haitian Lives

I'm taking a risk to go off to Haiti. So I'm asking for help to offset some of my expenses -- travel, insurance, supplies, mortgage. I've never requested many donations from friends and family for runs, or climbs, or walks, or bicycle rides to raise money for charity.

But with this adventure, I'm going where I can do some good with my own two hands, to try and make a difference in the lives of some desperate people. So throw in a few bucks. Think of it as your pesonal donation toward "Rebuilding Haitian Lives."

If you donate, I will send personal email updates to you from the field. For the right price, I'll bring you a Panama hat! I'll provide a full accounting of my fundraising and expenses here on the blog.





Thank you!!! From me. And from the families in Haiti. :-)
Wish me luck!

If you don't have PayPal, I will gladly give you an address to send the checks!

Off to Haiti in April

Well, kids, I'm starting this new blog with the announcement that I'm traveling to Haiti April 15, 2010, to do relief work for two months.*

I will be working with a group called HODR - Hands On Disater Relief. They have a base camp set up for 100 volunteers in a city named Leogane, which is 25 miles west of Port au Prince, and a scant 5 miles north of the epicenter of January's devastating earthquake.

I expect I'll start out with digging rubble, then maybe build some latrines. Eventually I'll transition to designing shelters and training people in ATC-20: Post Earthquake Structural Assessment of Buildings.

I've already made a good connection, even before traveling to Haiti. I spoke to a generous representative at a company that is a major cell phone supplier in Haiti, Trilogy-International, which happens to be based right here in Seattle. They have agreed to provide cell phones for the HODR relief effort. For free!!!

I'm meeting with the chairs of Architects Without Borders - Seattle, and AIA Seattle Disaster Response Task Force next week to see if there are opportunities for collaboration.
* For what it's worth, if foolish bad crazy people get the idea that my house will be sitting vacant, I will have a house-sitter.