A mellow day

Last night it was not easy to sleep. Dogs barking loud most of the night, then roosters crowing. I like well behaved dogs, but out of control ones that bark all night are not dear to me. 

Raining off and on this morning, the cistern crew got the cleaned gutter back on the roof, and the tank foundation made, and the cleaned tank back on the foundation.

Wag, Sam and Federique are off to Les Cayes with 4 or 5 pages of shopping list items to get. Will be interesting to see what they come back with. 


Turns out to be a beautiful day in paradise.

Water Cisterns and Internet

Monday, almost losing track of the days and dates here. We know it is Monday because the school bell close to where we are staying rings at 5:45 am. This is to wake up the whole village and let everyone know that the school will be open today and all children are called to get up and get ready for class. School begins at 8 with another vigorous ringing of the bell.

Now it is Tuesday, some how Monday slipped away, and about 12 men are working on the fish ponds, two working on splitting and making fence posts, digging holes and setting the fence posts, and one digging a well in the back yard in between the coconut trees, sugar cane and banana trees. The well will be for water to wash clothes, flush the toilet, maybe use for the shower and sink, but not for drinking without filtering. It is hard, salty, and doesn't look too clean, but I am told the locals drink it when there is nothing else.

We are getting our drinking water in 5 gallon Culligan bottles that are brought over by boat from Les Cayes. I look forward to getting water filters soon so we can filter the well water or the rain water.

Today is day one of the water cistern project: There are 10 or 15 cisterns that have been installed over the last 5 or so years. They are all in disrepair. The first one is the one where we are at the library. We begin draining the water out of it. It is good rainwater, but it has been standing a long time, is full of mosquitos, leaves, frogs, dirt and yucky. Even the Haitians say they will not drink it, but good for washing clothes. As the cistern drains we take off the gutter which is filled with leaves, frogs and slime. The men begin cleaning the gutter, scrubbing the inside with steel scrubbing pads and laundry detergent. We get 100 or so gallons of water out, some we send up in buckets to the smaller cistern on the roof of the new bathroom to be used to flush the toilet. I suggest we use saltwater for the toilet, but it turns out this is not a good idea, because the overflow from the septic tank will water the sugar cane, bananas and coconut trees, so fresh water must be used for the toilet.

Once all the work is well along, Wagner, Federique and I walk around to four other homes close by to survey their cistern systems. They are all in need of similar maintenance and repair, removing the gutters, draining the tanks, cleaning everything and reassembling them with more gutters, better valves and connections and new insect screens over all the openings. The four within 100 yards of the library will keep us busy more than a week, to get to all 10 or more will use up the next two weeks. Our plan is to helped train a good team of men to carry on, repair and maintain the cisterns and install new ones by the time we leave.

At 10:30 I head up the hill to Dr. Lambert's house. A steep hike on a rocky path, but very much well worth the effort for the cool breeze, fresh clean water, warm hospitality from Dr. lambert and the access to the internet that makes it possible for me to download email for the first time in over two weeks and post these ramblings on line to take up some of your time, hoipefully you will not consider it wasted.

It is spectacularly beautiful here, I will post some pictures in a day or two as soom as time and access permits. Suffice it to say Dr. Lambert lives 500 feet up on a steep hill top over looking the Caribbean, an empty white sand beach, and an endless expanse of green and blue sea stretching off to where the sky meets the sea far to the west. The sounds are as pleasant as the view: the surf from the beach is loud, even over 1/4 mile away, there are hundreds of tropical birds in all the trees softly calling and talking to each other, every now and then, a delicious breeze rustles the leaves and pushes the wind generator into its rhythmic whispering, like a mysterious language spoken by the wind. Life is good in paradise.

Sun 3/13 Distribution day

Yoga at 7:30 on the grass out front, breakfast of watermelon, papaya, pineapple, toast with butter, peanut butter and jam, coffee, juice, scrambled eggs at Port Morgan Hotel. emails, Charging batteries, the LiOn charger still works, pretty amazing considering how hot it got that it almost burst into flames, but our luck is holding so far.

Met two reporters and their school teacher wives who have been staying at the new hotel around the point and helping out with l’Ecole de Village in a nearby village. Nice people, we will be in touch by email as they are leaving today for Port au Prince.

10:30 Begin giving out 20 or so sails, all the shoes, food, clothes, fabric etc. Quite an exciting event for all.

I took lots of photos, one with each man or woman who received sails or shoes, and many more during the other goods distributions. Afterwards we shut the library and I went for a snorkle/swim in the bay, followed by an Incredible lunch of spicy cabbage and carrot cole slaw with the Caribbean specialty of fried spicy meat turnovers, washed down with lots of lemonade followed by a whole young coconut full of milk and tender meat for desert. Life is good here in paradise.

Saturday March 12 Another memorable day

Some highlights: Excellent breakfast of scrambled eggs with onions, fried potatoes and plaintains, again cooked and delivered by Wagner’s wife Miele and beautifully served and presented. 

Wag is off to Les Cayes for more supplies, and I set about cleaning house, moving and compacting the donations stuff, sweep out the room, rearrange the mats, try to figure out why the simple gravity feed pipe from the cistern on the roof of the new bathroom to the toilet, a distance of six feet with only two elbows and seemingly no way to not work, is failing to deliver water to the toilet.

It is a glorious sunny day, all blue sky and heating up. I roll out my land rug/yoga mat on the front lawn and stretch of few poses for a while, not a full set of 26 postures,  but an easy 30 minutes of floor postures, which leave me sweating and almost exhausted in the hot sun.

Samuel and Karma come by and we head for Jackson’s room over by the well and power generating building for the Port Morgan Hotel. As he works for the hotel, Jackson is given a small room with electricity that has a small fridge where all of our remaining food that needs to be kept cool is stored. On the way we pass what looks like a large fire pit made of stone, about 12 feet in diameter 2 feet high walls, a neatly made new looking large round fire pit with wooden benches all around, and  well made roof over the whole thing. I think, “how interesting, why would they have a roof over their community sing along fire pit?” I ask what it is. The reply: The cock fighting arena. Cock fights are on Sundays at 11 am. 

It is too hot and I am too tired for the long trek up to the Port Morgan or Dr. Lambert’s to use the internet, so you all will have to wait to read my many wise and witty words. I hope you can survive the delay and will forgive me. 

Early evening and Wagner fires up the little 950 watt 2 cycle generator so he and his family can watch TV or a video, and so we can all charge our cell phone batteries and computers. I also plug in the charger for my Lithium Ion batteries that power the circular saw, drill and lantern. After a little while we smell smoke and I turn on the light and the LiOn battery charger is smoking like a locomotive or a chimney, huge plumes of foul smelling black smoke. I yell something profane and run over and unplug it hoping I have caught it in time before the transformer is completely fried. Another misplaced assumptuion on my part. We check the line voltage coming through the cord from the generator and it is fluctuating between 190 and 196 volts, a bit much for a 120 volt maximum transformer and battery charger. Fortunatly both computers and the cell phone chargers will accept anything from 110 to 240 volts, they don’t care, so they are all fine. Only letting it cool off and trying it tomorrow on the 120 volt circuits over at the Port Morgan Hotel where we plan to go for breakfast will determine if it is fried or still works.

Friday March 11

The village “town criers”, the many roosters and dogs, crow and bark us awake with their symphony of animated calls and responses between 4 and 4:30. No one needs an alarm clock in Kakok, or probably any other small village in Haiti either.

The heavy rain comes again, drowning out the criers off an on. I use the predawn relative peace and quiet to write some of these words, trying to capture the memories of yesterday before they recede into oblivion. By 6 or 7 Ken and I set about surveying our situation, sorting and putting things away on shelves and contemplating the toilet. 

I have to tell you about the bathroom and toilet. In anticipation of our arrival Wager has hired a team of masons to build an addition on to the library, a cinderblock and cement elevated room for a toilet, sink and shower, to be the first one in the entire village, and probably the only one in any of the 37 villages on the island. It will have running water from a cistern on the roof, and one of the marvels of modern technology, a real two-stage underground septic tank with a removable clean-out lid that will vent its decomposed effluent into a stone and pipe leech field flowing right towards a small plot of banana trees and sugar cane planted behind the library.

It is amazing. We are all impressed, even dumbfounded, no one expected this level of sophistication and modern convenience. There are only a couple of problems. There is no door into the bathroom for one. The room has been constructed of three tall and solid cinderblock walls against one corner of the library, part of the back wall that includes one small window. By moving a couple of the 5 gallon pails of soup mix donated by the Gleaners against the wall and laying a board across them, we are able to get up enough to swing one leg over the window sill and wriggle through the window into the small room. With a door and a lot more work in can work as a bathroom, but at present it has no water, no sink, no shower and the roof is open to the sky, not to mention no door or way in or out save crawling through the window. 

But those things will come in time, the immediate priority is finding water to fill a bucket to flush the toilet and some toilet paper. I find a bucket and head for the bay while Ken searches for TP. Those simple little things in life we take for granted up north, are now precious, rare commodities that require effort, logistics and planning. 

The quests for water and TP are successful and the toilet flushes well, almost an occasion for celebration and congratulations all around. We love it. Thanks Wag and all who worked so hard on it.

Boat ride in “The Oxford”, Wager’s hand made, and rough by most standards, typical wooden Haitian sailing boat with a 9.9 Nissan outboard fitted to it. The Oxford is named after Captain Morgan’s flagship that sailed these waters a couple of hundred years ago, and Wagner’s little craft is no less sturdy, stoutly nailed together from native mango and other tropical hardwoods, she is ageless and timeless and a noble and seaworthy vessel for our short ride five miles across the bay.

Les Cayes Immigration office, 50 or so people staniding in line out into the street. As we approach Bruce remarks at the long line that it will take hours. I reply that maybe that is the line to get OUT of haiti, and the line to get in will be shorter. As we near the entrance, Bruce notices the Arrivals door to eh left and says “You were absolutely correct, no line at “Arrivals” and it was true, no line, walked tight in, the immigration officer gestured me to an empty chair, gave me a long form to fill out, I filled in the blanks, handed it back to him, he asked for $20, I handed him a 20 which he swept into a drawer which will hold it until he puts it in his pocket, the whole thing took 10 minutes. The 50 or so Haitians wanting to leave the country were still standing in line when I left, sad but that is the way of life here. They can't leave so perhaps working together many hands can help make life a little better for them here.

Trip back - fire on small island, Wagner says it burns completely, all the houses are mad of palm trees and when one catches fire they all burn.

Meetings, new priorities.

Farewell to Bruce, Arlen and R Heritage Too as they head off for Grand Cayman.

Dinner - Wagner's wife Mirleine cooked us Lobster in a delicious red sauce with onions and rice. It was fantastic, and served on a white table cloth on nice ceramic plates, clean silverware and delivered with a fly cover over the plates of food all the way. We are being treated like visiting royalty, though I know we have not earned it and feel mixed about taking food from people who have so little, but it would be insulting to refuse, and that is the deal. We cam here to bring them a huge cargo of gifts, and to stay and work and help them more, and they are welcoming us and extending what hospitality they can.

Now we are truly living in Haiti. Ken and I are not the only white people on the island (there are 25 or so Irish volunteers staying at Abaka Bay a few miles away), but we are certainly the only white people living in Kakok Village. All of the other visitors on the island are staying at the hotels, perhaps a few in one or two private homes, plus a few who come ashore from their sailboats during the day. Certainly no one else is living in a Haitian house in the middle of a village. We are strangers in a strange land, but feel totally safe, welcome, embraced, loved, appreciated and at home in spite of being far from home.

Thur March 10 A day at Port Morgan, moving ashore

Cleaning up the boat, moving all of our stuff ashore, moving the remaining cold food items into the fridge at Jackson’s place.

Met Jean Lorique and Geneiux, a French couple from Martinique on their catamaran for a nice chat.

Lunch at Port Morgan hotel and first email access. 

Row out and introduce myself to Gill, a crusty single handed world cruising circumnavigator wh has been living on his Downeast 32 since 1995. He invites me aboard for a rum and mango jusice then we both row ashore and enjoy a beer together at one of the little seaside locals homes. 

I go ashore find Wag & we organize the library, move stuff around, put the bed in one corner, Ken’s stuff and his cot in the other corner, put up a mosquito net, and generally try to make it homey.

Back to boat, pasta & veggies dinner, talk & organize stuff, pump & fittings for the cistern for pressure water for toilet & for shower & sink. Thank you for your generosity.

It is pouring sheets and buckets the whole time, a true tropical deluge. When we get ashore Ken & I hop out and head for the library through pitch dark sheets of water, almost like swimming in the dark. 

When we arrive at the library we notice a faint light seeping through the gap at the top of the door, Ken asks me if I left a light on, and I say no, there are no lights there to leave on, so it is curious. We go to the door and pull on it, it is locked but soon it opens, and Wagner welcomes us. He was sitting in the library, our new home, reading, keeping watch over all of the expensive and valuable things inside, and waiting patiently for us to return. We thank him profusely, he goes home, we strip off our soaking clothes, hang them up, towel off, and gratefully settle in to listen to the rain drumming on the tin roof, louder than the voodoo drums of any film or fantasy, and drift off into sleep on our first night as the only white people in the little seaside island fishing village of Kakok, Haiti.

Wed March 9 Sister Flora (Soeur Fleur) Orphanage and Dr. Lambert’s Mountainship dining

9 am big breakfast of turkey bacon, home fried potatoes and scrambled eggs shared with Federique, then the Sister Flora’s orphanage boat arrives to pick up the supplies we have for them so we head for the library/storehouse, we tell the eager helping hands to take all of the wheelchairs and walkers and crutches out to the boat, along 40 or so of the woven mats, plus 4 of the 5 gallon dry soup mix buckets (each one makes 100 meals) and a dozen or so boxes labeled for Sister Flora, plus many bags of clothes, linens, children’s toys etc. Then Arlen and I sort through the sewing machines separating them into hand cranked and electric only ones, sending the six electric ones to the orphanage where they have electric power.

We all load into the boat along with all of the wheelchairs, walkers porta potties, mats, boxes and sewing machines etc. and head out for the 5 mile trip to Madame Bernard, the capital town of the island where the orphanage is located. Arriving in Mme. Bernard, many eager hands are there to help us carry everything up the long steep, muddy and rocky path to the orphanage. I push one of the wheelchairs with a bag of linens on the seat along the flat and muddy road to the base of the hill, then Federique helped me pull it up the very steep rocky rutted and rough road up to the orphanage. 

Tuesday March 8 - Ile a Vache: Christmas in March

By around 1 pm we can see Ile a Vache in the distance around the point, by 2:30 we are at anchor less that 100 yards from the beach at Kakock village.

The whole village turns out to watch and help carry all of the cargo in 6 or 8 boat loads from the boat to shore, then from shore to the library, where it is now all securely stowed for distribution. By 6 pm we are done, the library/storehouse is full, we head back to the boat to clean up the mess. Samuel, Karma & Federique come with us, help clean the decks, carry a few last minute items ashore, then we set about drinking the beer that we have so carefully guarded and stored and chilled for this occasion. 

Blue Moon, Yinling Black & Tan, Newcastle Brown Ale plus a few Red Stripes and Coors are mixed in with the full case of Haitian Prestige that Samuel brings us. We stick with beer and don’t venture into the Rum Zone, leaving that for another night to celebrate more fully. As the fridge has been reduced to cold water that isn’t draining because one of the more than a dozen bags of ice we packed into it in Rum Cay has luckily plugged the drain hole (I consider this lucky because otherwise all of the very cold water would have drained out leaving us no way to cool the beer.)

Ken helps me cut up almost all of our remaining fresh vegetables and I make a huge pan of veggie curry, along with a big pot of brown rice and feed all seven of us. Samuel runs the little store and restaurant that was started with a micro loan. Every one enjoys the curry and I get compliments on my very Haitian style of cooking. I am sure we will be rewarded many fold with fresh fish, lobster, conch and other local dishes in the weeks to come.

Disco music from the village, invited to go with promises of Rum, music and girls, but we are way too tired to even think of it, Most of the music seems to be in Spanish, the DJ or music must be from the Dominican Republic. There is this curious loud slapping sound every few minutes. We are told that is a form of dominoes or a board game played with loud slapping down of the tiles. 

3/8 Stowaway

Around Sunset in the middle of the Windward Passage, a large bird began circling the boat. It looks like a Tern to my inexperienced eye, and she looks like she is looking for a place to land. Bruce says this happens often, one of them will circle around sunset looking for a place to rest for the night. Sure enough, after three laps around the boat getting closer and closer, she comes in for a landing on the forward port side of the pilothouse roof (called a dodger earlier, but more like half a pilot house really). There she sits all night long, as we motor over 75 miles around the southwest tip of Haiti and along the southern shore, our stowaway sits in the same spot, rocking and balancing as the boat rock and rolls along at 5-6 knots,  all night long. Around 3 am, as we round Point Tiburon, the western most tip of Haiti, Arlen and Bruce are up on the bow with powerful flashlights watching for lobster trap floats in the water, as our course takes us within one mile of shore, and over the shallow near shore shelf where the depth ranges between 30 and 80 feet, prime lobster trapping territory. In the morning our stowaway is still there so Arlen and I get some photos of her. She is not shy at all, letting us within 4 feet or so to get nice close ups. Then shortly after dawn she takes flight again, off for another day of fishing and flying after a good nights rest and a free ride to new fishing gounds. All she leaves behind is a big mess on the pilothouse roof and deck underneath where she deposited the processed remains of yesterdays catch.

Monday March 7 - Becalmed in the “Windless Passage”

The 50 mile wide by 100 mile long gap between the eastern end of Cuba and the western tips of Haiti has been known as the Windward Passage for a few hundred years. To the North and East lies the North Atlantic Ocean, the “windward” part of the Caribbean. To the south lies the Caribbean Sea. The Windward Passage connects the Atlantic to the Caribbean and is one of the most famous and infamous shipping lanes of maritime lore.

Today however the Windward Passage could be called the Windless Passage, totally calm, no wind at all. We spend the day motoring along, reading resting, sunning and enjoying the gentle ride.

Sunday March 6 - Even Better than “as good as it gets”

Sunday dawned clear and blue and beautiful. As I came up on deck early, several miles behind off our port quarter I could just make out the castle turret-like lighthouse for which we assume Castle Cay is named. An absolutely incredible day sailing along, wind abeam and astern, resting, reading, enjoying the huge pile of sails on the aft deck like a big huge bean bag chair or king size bed. Life is good.