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Introduction
My life can never be the same. To sail the world alone has given me a new life but to open my eyes to the world will allow me to give a new life to many others. Bob has a saying, “knowledge can only empower our life. The more we know, the better it is.” Knowing gives us opportunity. This trip has opened my eyes to so very much. I had general ideas of many things that are shameful about this world we live in. As an American, the world is quick to judge and accuse me. And only now do I see the truth of much of the anquish suffered in the world to appease and feed the few elite in every country who possess the world's greedy lifestyle. But I dare say that I now know too the responsibility for this is the world's who have chosen to abuse their own for this greed to be fulfilled. There is not one person who escapes this responsibility. Both to choose a way of life that can sustain us all and to participate in this world so as to stop the corruption that feeds this greedy system.
It has been such a privilege to come to these islands purposing to learn and open new pathways for the sailing community to engage in caring, the most enveloping positive experience in all life. I am overwelmed by those I have met who have made caring their mantra, putting the opportunity to help others at a premium in their life. I have spent days into nights talking and learning from those in these communities that know what is really happening in these places and are willing to help us help others. Though the hours of work are long and the frustrations oppressive trying to help others who have no means to help themselves, just one smile of recognition of the slightest sense of self worth on the face of a human being is more than enough to keep your passion to care soaring. My few days here have been a tremendous success as energies are converging, projects developing all around me. The ocean is an incredible open access to these islands, and sailors the most talented, educated group of people I know. The symbiosis is fantastic. Not only can we continue to see the most pristine, beautiful harbors of the world, but we can return dignity and hope to those people who look across the horizon for someone to come allowing them to help themselves. We can share our education and skills with them. We can put vital materials in their grasp. We can give of our blessing and hard work to allow the hard work of a people to create a new life for themselves. We can make a difference.
Good Samaritan
“But how can I play for children without my guitar? “I asked the woman guarding the path to boarding the plane that would take me to Haiti. There was no way I was going to get past the baggage restriction, but there was no way I could go without the supplies for the school on Ile La Vache, a small island off the Southwest coast of Haiti, where I was heading. Somehow I could borrow a guitar for the nights I perform the following two weekends AT JOSÉ OShay’s in the Dominican Republic. But I could not leave my guitar at the airport. I felt terrible having to call Bob back to the airport, as 20 minutes had passed, yet when I told him what happened, he was so willing and told me he would turn around and be there as soon as he could. The time to my flight was getting close. It would be good to see Bob to give him one more hug before taking off on this wild trip ahead. His concern for me was both for my safety and for our relationship for as my world becomes more encapsulated by my heart to help those in the islands, I will be spending more time away. Yet Bob too has a caring heart for those of the islands and those who have needs and a great respect for me for doing what I believe in. I trust as I get on the plane that our love for one another will only grow stronger.
This trip to Haiti has been like so many of my journeys. I have initiated and organized and believed in the cause, but it has been the graciousness of everyone in my life that makes it manageable. It would be too hard without the patience and encouragement that surrounds me. As the trip unfolds, it became evident that I was in a lovely flow with destiny and on a steep learning curve.
I had planned to spend five days in Haiti, doing research for OceansWatch on the small island of Ile La Vache, hosted by a contact arranged by Caribbean friend and musician, Michael Gardner, known as Beans by all on the islands. In 1997, Michael found himself on the small island of Ile La Vache treasure hunting for a famous Canadien wooden ship, Bluenose. He fell in love with the people on the island , and so founded the Good Samaritan foundation to help them. When I first came to the Caribbean islands, Michael became a mentor for me both as a sailor and musician. We have stayed good friends. When I return from sailing solo around the world,our like desires to help people on the islands connected us. The goals of OceansWatch to link the sailing community to help those in the islands seems a perfect synchronicity to help good Samaritan foundation provide materials and help to the island.
Then I continue on to the Dominican Republic, where I will play music at the only Irish pub on the Caribbean island. The owner of the pub, Frank Brittingham, has a pub in St. Thomas as well, Molly Malones. When I arrived at St. Thomas nearly 10years ago, as a rare player of Irish music I found a home playing at Molly's. As I began sailing, my first solo Atlantic crossing was to Ireland. The Brittingham family followed my adventures and have always loved to hear me play, especially the irish jigs and reels on my Caribbean steel drum. Whenever I return to town, there are always hugs and a gig for me to play. When I called Frank to let them know that I would need to borrow a guitar, he simply chuckled and said, “Donna, we’ ll find you a guitar. No worries. See you tomorrow”. When I leave the DR. I'll fly back to Fort Lauderdale for one night, and then head on to St. Thomas for 10 more days to singing and playing music, including doing a benefit concert for the good Samaritan foundation. I could never have imagined how life changing this trip would be.
On the flight to Port-au-Prince Haiti, I was making a last-minute phone call and mentioned I was going to Ile La Vache to work with children. The woman who sat next to me, got my attention saying, “I couldn't but overhear that you are headed to a mission. I too am here leading a mission for Restavec children", she says. She goes on to explain that Restavecs are young children given away by families hoping to give them opportunity. Instead the children are abducted into child slavery. The parents are told the children will go to school and have more opportunity, but this is not true. The children work long hours, are treated as slaves, not family. Half a million children live like this in Haiti. I found I was shaking as I heard Joan share her stories of the children she met. Education is the key to any hope for these children so her organization goes to the owning families and tries to convince them to allow the children to go to school. Restavec Freedom payes for the child's tuition and clothes, books and a meal a day. In some cases, they have succeeded at removing children from the most abusive situations but it is hard. There is only lip service from the government leaders regarding changing these practices as children have always been used for labor and sex. But even here, the culture is ashamed of these practices though do not change them. The abuses are unfathomable to me, yet inwardly I had to face that I had always known such things happen in the world. Now it is right in front of me. I have to see it. The woman, Joan Conn's heart and mine were knit very quickly. She was very excited to gain contacts on Ile La Vache, as many Restavec children come from the island. As Joan and I traded contact information, I knew this was an incredible encounter. There are potential ways OW can help. It was only the beginning.
Amidst so much caring and desire to help, it is amazing how challenging it is as there are always difficulties along the way. I arrived in Port-au-Prince fine, and met up with Harry, a contact set up by Jean Phelix Joseph, the local director of the Good Samaritan foundation on Ile La Vache. I found right away that the trip would be more expensive than I thought as meals in Haiti are just as expensive as in Florida, taxis, costing $10-$30. But there is nothing to be done. I would spend what I needed to accomplish my goals. I had some cash flow as I was still receiving severance pay for my work as a skipper for Stu Kahn. I would manage. I had 8 hours in PAP awaiting a connecting flight on a small plane that would take me to Les Cayes on the southwest coast of Haiti. There I would meet up with Phelix. He would be hosting me and take me by boat to the island.
I have to say, that my heart sunk when I arrived in Les Cayes and my luggage did not. Not only didn’t I have my guitar, but now, I had no irish whistle to play for the children. No clothes. No gifts of the supplies for the school, though I knew the supplies would get to the children eventually. I was tired. I had a very bad cold.which I had gotten when I went to see my grandchildren the days before leaving for Haiti. Yet Phelix’s warm welcome was filled with incredible patience as he arranged the particulars to get my bags later on. His confidence that everything would arrive ok was enough to allow me to relax over it all. We climbed into the car of a man who was a lawyer who was helping Phelix in his study and planning to work with Phelix later on. It was a short drive across the seascape and then through the ghetto like area of Les Cayes. It seemed there was mud everywhere, broken shacks, worn out buildings in this section of town. People milling everywhere. Scooters in every condition whizzing everywhere with no regard for any rules.
It was after 5 PM, when the car came to stop overlooking the harbor, my whole being relaxed at the sight. It was so serene as the sun was starting to fall lower on the horizon. The sea was calm, the air balmy with Ile La Vache in the background nearly silhouette. The whisping balls of the palm treetops and rocky hills show no sign of humans only 5 miles away. A quiet calm is present as a sense of purpose and destiny overwhelm me. We take off our shoes and socks, roll up our pants to wade out to the boat. I look around to see the devastating condition of the coast, a small landfill on the edge of the sea, plastic bottles and all the city refuse being washed into the water with each crushing wave. My heart was sick thinking of the work that needs to be done here to bring any balance to this world. But for now I would keep to my task.
20 minutes later, we stepped off into a totally different world from the stifling congestion of the city. Our landing was just outside one of two small resorts on the island. More like quaint hotels. Clean and well kept two level cottages along a ridge, overlooking the beach set up with white chairs for the guests. The dream to help the people here began to have definition. This is a place where yachties can come and be comfortable and safe. We walked, just past the cottages and enter a forest of rolling hills, muddy footpaths with 2 to 3 room small tin roofed dwellings scattered along our way. Most have a separate thatched room for cooking. The fresh water for drinking is caught off the steel roofs. Rain is the greatest blessing and lack of it, the diarest of tragedies here. Yet even the much needed rain brings sickness as malaria is rampant in the mosquitoes that hatch. No electricity, no roads, no machinery of any kind. Horse drawn plows and hoes are their tools. Wooden sloops speckle the horizon as fishermen work their way back to the coast to join their families for the evening meal. Fishing is the primary source of income on the island so the slow sailing ships have limited their fishing grounds to very close to shore. There are few fish left. The need for management is at a critical state. A few of the fisherman have outboard engines provided by the Good Samaritan Foundation and the Tortola Marine Association, allowing them to reach richer new harvest territories farther from shore. .
The thick mud caking to my feet, squishing between my toes represent the blessing of rain, so I could not complain, but as the animals roam freely, I was aware that this too was a concern as the feces is everywhere. We have become a little caravan as we arrive at the home of Felix’s mother-in-law, with whom they live. Felix has now acquired a plot for their own home, but with university study and concern for the island, his own house would have to wait. The 20' x 15' cement house was painted pink with light green accents. Flowing sheer curtains of pastel green and white guard the doors from the mosquitoes that threaten every life here on Ile La Vache. I had begun my regime with chloraquin, an anti malarial drug, so was not in any danger. I am introduced to Felix's wife, Shana, cradling their new son, Theim, only two months old. The momma of the house is shy and stays in the other room behind a door, moving inside and out to the thatched covered cooking area containing only a charcoal, wood fire and a large bowl for water.
It became evident that the men who had accompanied us were all leaders on the island. Finally we are all able to sit down to begin to consider, the purpose for which I came, to make detailed surveys of the needs of the island and to begin to develop programs that OceansWatch can do with the people on Ile La Vache. Even the experience of arriving, with limited baggage, as it was lost along the way, was a demonstration of the inefficiency of providing materials or resources to the island by land. The sea is the right portal to helping the people in these coastal communities.
I had originally planned to stay at the resort for the two nights on Ile La Vache, but with new ideas of flying direct from Haiti to Santo Domingo, I needed to save money and Felix and I had so much to talk about far into the evenings as my visit was only for 36 hours because of the availability of flights back to PaP. So it was at the last minute that Felix called his wife to alert her of my visit. When I arrived it was obvious that great care had been taken to extend all their hospitality to me. As I spoke with the men, the women were busy preparing dinner. I was surprised when it was time to eat, that both women stayed in the adjacent room behind a closed door, Phelix says that they are shy. I felt a bit awkward as one of the men, but my role there was appropriate to our eating together. Plus, I have to say that my cold was prohibitive of my getting very close to the family. I had no choice but to stay distance from the ladies and especially the little baby boy. Dinner was served, rice and black beans and a local fish soup. Everything was salty, but nicely spiced. For dessert they serve the local spiced apple purée with their staple wheat bread cooked over the fire. It was lovely.
We are testing the surveys developed by OW to see how efficient they'll be. They are very helpful as I work through the needs of the community. 16,000 to 20,000 people live on the island. There are 26 large village areas, half of which have schools. Children can walk up to two hours to get to school. There are only two health centers on the island. One is also a dispensary along with one other private dispensary. The services and medicines are limited to dealing with the most common local illness, and are very expensive. There is no free care here. This is the only evidence seen of the government on the island. Malaria, Typhoid fever medicine can cost 35$US if it is available at all. The average income is $300-$500 per year depending on the drought conditions. Rain is paramount to both the income and food supply on island. As the only income is through fishing and agriculture and selling of charcoal and there is no management of these resources, the island faces starvation and sickness continually. Mortality rates are high.
These conditions are rampant across all of Haiti, a country that has destroyed it’s natural resources with shortsighted clear cutting of trees resulting in the complete erosion of the rich topsoil. Just as their local Creole language contains only one verb tense, the present tense, so does the mindset of the people. They can only see the needs of a moment with no thought of the consequences tomorrow as they are in dire survival mode. Their understanding in regards to preservation of the resources needed to perpetuate farming is so low that they can not manage the few resources they have. The knowledge of germ theory isn't understood so any kind of sanitation or cleanliness practices are not done. Yet there are new leaders developing on the island. Michael has invested thousands of dollars allowing Phelix to go to university to study Haitien law. He is an incredible leader, making it possible for a group like OW to help these people. He speaks english and understands the value of all the people need to do there to change their world. The respect shown him reveals the potential of change. They have a committee for development now on the island, enlisting others that have enough education to see what needs to be done. They just need materials. There hands are tied without the resources to build modes of sanitation, schools and provide medicines so people can stay healthy enough to go forward. Momentum is building. The Good Samaritan Foundation is gaining support from the Rotary and marine Businesses in the BVI and yachties as well. Over the years Michael has sent many sailboats to the island with supplies.
As daylight waned, only a single oil lamp would light the room. It was nearly midnight before we gave into exhaustion and let ourselves go to sleep. Shana provided me with a light clean night dress and I climbed under the mosquito netting into bed. The sheets looked brand new, stilled creased and crisp, fine embroidery on the edges. Phelix would go to sleep at his cousins home a few hundred feet away. Shana slept with her momma and the baby for the night. Though I offered to sleep anywhere, they wouldn't consider it. I was beginning to understand how important my visit was to them all. This is real...they must have help or many of their family will die this year. I was beginning to feel what Micahel was talking about when he said that I would 'fall in love ' with these sweet people. They just need a chance to help themselves in this simple but wonderful life they have, sequestered on this little island.
I was not to sleep that night. My mind was quiet but inwardly I was engaged with all around me. My cold was not getting better as I pulled one disinfectant wipe after another out of my bag to blow my nose. I was so glad I had brought them. In the last hours before dawn it began to pour a monsoon rain. The sound on the tin roof was deafening. Tomorrow would be a full day and I was already exhausted. Yet my heart was full. I would manage. There was nothing about the challenges for me that could compare with those of the people here and primitive living was really quite normal for me on my sailboat. I could appreciate the joy that these people shared with each other each day as simplicity has many wonderful benefits. They love their island and see it as paradise. Many who have left to get education are coming back as they love the beauty and community of the island. But sickness, starvation and pain are another thing. Even with their new capacity to understand what needs to be done they are powerless as they don't have access to the materials they need.
With the sun we arose. The cafe is wonderful here. We have a quick breakfast of bread and the apple puree with a boiled egg and fruit. I turn down a sponge bath as I know that we are going to be in dire need of one later and don't want to waste water. We have to cover quite a few miles of travel to go to the Good Samaritan School in La Hatte then check out the other projects being developed as alternative sources of income. In order for them to stop cutting the trees for charcoal to sell, they need other income. There are plans and the beginnings for a bakery and a new school as the one they have can not fit nearly the number of children they have. They have lots of ideas we had talked about the night before. A sailing school. The idea of bringing materials to build Optimum sailboat here, teaching the children to build them, sew sails.... create a sailing club that may allow some of them to get involved with competitions around the world. These people are desperate for skilled people to come and teach them. Any sport that may give them an opportunity to travel is good for them as once the children see another way of life, they have a chance at grasping it.
We would travel on foot as horses are 20$ each a day. I was looking forward to the exercise and it was so beautiful a morn. But with the rain the night before, the paths were rivers of mud. In the early morning sun, they were starting to dry up by the time we headed out, but I had to take off my sandals once more. The mud is clay like and cakes too thick on the bottoms. All I could do was hope for the best that I wouldn't pick up any diseases. In the future I would need to bring some boots.
Bright welcomes were made at each home we walked by. I purposed to say hello to all we met..
”Bonjour, Bonjour”. The island language is a french Creole. It took me a while to get the hang of speaking what little french I remembered from high school. In my travels, the opportunity to speak spanish has been much more frequent, so when my mind tried to speak a foreign language, it would tend to remember the spanish instead of french. It was pretty funny. But by the end of the day I was adjusting.
We passed by gorgeous white beaches, speckled with sailboats. There were several new wooden boats being crafted on beaches. Only hatchets were used to fall the trees, make them into planks and shape them. Old wood planes smoothed them some. Dug out canoes would be seen as well. The only plastic boats I saw were at the Port ?? resort where we first came in. They had a small dive shop and activities area. There was no one but a security guard to be seen around the resort at this time of year. One has to call ahead to arrange a room or meal there.
Phelix draws my attention to a dark green cistern at the corner of a house ahead. The cisterns donated by the Tortolla Rotary were life savers to many. Many more are needed to ensure there is safe water for drinking. When the safe water runs out, the people are forced to drink water that is dangerous to their health and many die. These are some of the projects we earmark for OW to look into. Ways to make or collect fresh water are imperative and boaties understand that as they too, need to carry or create clean water as they travel.
Finally we arrive at the Ecole de Good Samaritan in La Hatte. It feels odd to arrive dirty, splashed mud up my legs, feet caked with clay, unbathed, to meet the principal of the school and address the kids. But phelix too had bare feet and rolled up pants to let down. It is their way of life. Somehow the students are wearing clean uniforms, the teachers in trousers and dress shirts. There is a dignity revealed in everything they do that is impressive. Shortly after I arrive I am lead to one of the classrooms where the children are first hushed...then lead to stand. Suddenly they burst into a song of welcome...”Bienvenue, Bienvenue, Bienvenue” they sing over and over, hands clapping loudly and smiles from ear to ear. They sing a second song of welcome. Then the prinicpal directs the teacher to go on with the lesson. There are few pencils or paper for the children to use. Much of their writing practice is done on the chaulkboard. Lessons are spoken in unison by the children as the pronounce words and phrases, learning grammar. I visit another classroom. A room that is only 10'x10' big and at least 20 small 4-5 year olds sitting in chairs squished together. The teacher was reading to them. Some of the floors are dirt, the ceilings tin. There is no light in the room which was quite dark as it had only 2 windows. Precious faces all peering at me in wonderment. Once I caught a child's eyes and smiled at them, they would smile back shyly. I visited each of the 4 classrooms. One was only a tarp over tables and a chaulk board. A young boy was having trouble conjugating a verb, having to write it many times in front of his classmates. I felt his embarrassment for having done it wrong. Eventually, they elicited the correct spelling from one of the other children which he then wrote. His penmenship was very good. He was pleased as he looked at it corrected.
There was one cistern there to provide safe water at the school for the children, but the need to be able to provide one meal a day is pressing. Too many of the children suffer from undernourishment. The truth is that there is not nearly enough room at this place for all the grades. To continue 2 mid grades, the students must go to another school farther away. The plans for the new school will open up tremendous opportunity for many more kids.
Once we finished the tour the prinicpal calls all the children into the biggest of the classrooms which actually is used by several grades simultaneously. The bigger children gather all the tables and chairs from the classrooms to the assembly room. The children then file in orderly and sit close to fit all the nearly 200 students in the room. The prinicpal begins with a prayer and then addresses the students. It was as if he was talking to a room of adults as he spoke to these little ones of the pressing needs of the community... They are told they are the hope for all of them and they must work very hard to learn so they can make a better world for their families. They introduce me and allow me to say a few words to the children. I tell them of the wonderful potential within each one. We talk about helping each other to do everything we can to make their island a safe and healthy world. But that we all must work hard together. Then Phelix comes and too, encourages the children to study hard together. It is quite a while of speaking and the children start to get antsy in their seats. The teachers go around and settle the restless ones down. Finally, the children are asked to stand and once more the room explodes with song and clapping. All singing more “Bienvenue, Bienvenue” and an old hymn I recognized, How Great Thou Art , sung in their creole language. I sang along as best I could, though found myself so moved by all I saw that I was fighting back tears. With the end of the songs, the prinicpal prayed once more and the children started to file out of the room. Phelix was then going to take me to the site of the new school. They are trying to buy the parcel of land next to the school land to use for a health clinic. The construction of the buildings is done with concrete and stones. There was a huge pile of stones behind one of the present school rooms which needed to be moved to the new school property, not far away.
All of sudden Phelix picked up a stone and next thing we knew, each child and my self included had a stone to carry to the new school property. There is such excitement. The children were to have a short day of school as they are amidst their exams so they are being let go home. So once Phelix and I talk about the school project, the children walk with us as we head to our next destination for a little ways. Many of the children tried to touch me and then they grabbed my hand to walk with me. I think I had 4 at one time, holding my hand or shirt tail. AS we went, more children headed on their own way home. We were off to the site of a new bakery in the next village east. A long beach is crossed. I point out to Phelix that it is important that they begin to be concerned with the garbage scattered everywhere . There is no landfill, no sanitation of any kind on the island. Everyone just uses the outdoors. I encourage Phelix that it would be a good project for the kids to pick up the garbage. When people care for their environment, it shows a respect for the blessings they have. Plus it helps others who come to believe that those on the island will treat their gifts and donations with respect also. We reach a clearing where there is a thatched building and the framework for another. The new bakery.
Phelix begins to explain. One of the young men had been going to school in Les Cayes to become a mason yet after 2 years he was still not skilled enough to build the oven they need. But the building is begun. They completed making a mixer of sorts from wood that would help knead the bread. They are just waiting on being able to pay a skilled mason who can make the oven and they will be able to proceed. The hope is that bread and baked goods can become an export to be sold in Les Cayes. The completed building next to the bakery is the church, an open air room, with a dirt floor and all done in thatched palm tree leaves. The bakery will be built the same way. We head off again and meet up with other leaders of the community on the path. We will all meet later, Phelix says, after dinner to continue to gather the information we need for the surveys.
We head back towards Phelix home making one last stop at Port ? . I needed to see what kind of facility was there. It is very important that I find a place where yachties can go and get safe water and a few comforts. It is a quaint place with all the necessities. As we looked into one of the rooms, Phelix asks in french to the security guard for me to take a 'real shower'. Honestly, I hadn't bathed for several days and the thought of running clean water over my body was lascivious. The guard smiled and waved me on to the bathroom. I was able to finally relieve my body as I hadn't had the opportunity to before as much because Phelix was a bit embarrassed I think to ask me to do it in the woods as everyone else did. He was very gracious. Though I didn't have any soap, the clear water worked wonders. I would use the disinfectant wipes on my feet and hands later. We hasted back as we were to meet with the other gentlemen at 5pm and dinner was waiting. Most here eat 2 meals a day, breakfast and a late afternoon dinner. Now I understood why they piled the rice high and ate such a large meal at dinner. But I just couldn't eat so much at once. The fish was perfect. Tonight Shana would dine with us, her mother still a bit shy in the ajoining room. Each day, her momma smiled and interacted with me more. She had worked hard all day bringing water and washing clothes for them and the baby. They washed my shoes from the days excursion. I felt odd leaving my shoes for them to clean, but Phelix was hurrying me to the table to eat and be ready for the meeting. It is very important to them all.
Nearly at 5pm, a gentleman I recognized, but whose name I will need to get from Phelix, arrived. Big smiles and a large well used folder in his arms. All the records for the island were in that folder. The censuses and documents. This man was the president of the committee for development as well as a leader in the community. We worked through all the questions relating to statistics, mortality rates, number of health centers, the types of care there. It was far into the night before we exhausted our questions and felt we had enough information and cohesion to allow me to leave the next day and proceed to create the projects they needed. My mind was creativly engineering away. Composting toilets seemed the perfect solution to a community with little water and few resources. No water or plumbing is needed. There can be a central composting area for the feces and a proper sewage hole for the urine. Each home can have one and only need to empty them periodically into a central place. A 5 gallon bucket and special toilet seat was all we need. Ideas for the sailing clubs, Optis all start to formulate. There is already a program started on the island to use solar ovens for cooking the mid day meal, lessening the need for charcoal for fires. Solar power is an answer for these people. Wind power. Sailors more than any group in the world understand how to implement these sustainable resources. My excitement is absolutely bursting from within as we all retire for the night.
It is to be another restless night, my being still pumping with all that has occurred this day. I breath in and out, counting 7 in and 14 out until finally sleep comes. We have to be at the beach near the Port by 0430 to meet the boat that will take me to Les Cayes for my flight back to Port au Prince. There is a french gentlemen from the island going as well. He has an orphanage with 230 children he will be going home to raise money for. We shared a quick lift in the taxi to the airport. We stop along the way to check on my lost bags. The woman there says they are at the airport. My heart races a bit as my trust that they will be in tact is little... But sure enough, there they were. We arrived and Phelix helped me communicate to give in my baggage tickets. Nothing was touched. My music equipment and all was fine. We dumped all the supplies for the school into the back of the taxi to take back to the island so I could take the borrowed bag home. I needed it to transport the paintings Michael had arranged for the upcoming auction at his benefit concert series, back to ST Thomas as well, so the bag was perfect. I was flying high over the mountains of the SW peninsula of Haiti in no time. My ears in agony with my still stuffed head in the small plane. I was never so happy to be back on the ground.
I had decided to try to fly direct to Santo domingo instead of staying in PAP for the extra 2 nights alone. Plus I was still not sure that I would be able to make the close connections in Ft Lauderdale I had booked. I just didn't think it all through when I made them. My flights were international and would require going in and out of customs. The 1 ½ hour layover was real close. When I arrived in Port Au Prince, my earlier companion, Harry, was no where to be found. To catch a flight that would go direct to the DR from Haiti would require going from this national airport to the international one. I had no idea when the flights would go or if there was more than one a day so I was a little anxious to get going. One of the taxi drivers had approached me with good english. He was so helpful and with no guarantee of even giving me a fare. We tried to call Phelix but got no answer. Finally, though I was concerned Phelix would worry when I had not found Harry, we left a message and I took the taxi to the international airport, across town. The airport only has a few carriers that fly through there. 2
major ones and 3 smaller companies, each serving one island, 2 being Cuba and the DR. One flight or 2 a day. It took a while to realize that there was no flight to Santiago DR. Though the signs said Santiago, it was to Cuba. It was a bit confusing. But once it was clear I was heading to the DR the attendants told me the only flight was to Santo Domingo, hours farther away from my destination in Caberete, on the North coast but where I was originally heading. I had bought myself a couple extra days in the DR so maybe I could use the time to catch up with Ruben Torres from Reef Check Training. It was only 0800 and the flight was to be at 1600... another long day of waiting. But to my amazement, there was a little cafe upstairs that had WiFi. I had plenty of writing to do and there was plenty of beer on tap. I had a lovely meal. The girls working there were kind as could be and helpful. The simplicity of these people has somehow allowed them to not be bitter with all the trauma around them. PAP is full of UN police, machine gun laden men in trucks on every street corner.
The trip to the DR meant flying over the center of the continent of Hispanola. It was incredible to see the border between the DR and Haiti as the western half of the large island was barren, not a tree, waste land and as you passed over the boarder to the DR the land became lush green, rich mountains of forests, lakes, the patchwork of agriculture seen everywhere. I had been told that the Haitians had destroyed the land with deforestation but to see it from the air was overwelming. I am told it is one of 2 man-made features seen from space. How could a people be so shortsighted as to destroy their natural treasure of topsoil... somehow their inability to consider or denial of the need for management has left them devastated. It will be thousands of years before any present attempts to reforest can reap any benefit and replenish the soil and they haven't even started. The oppressive government refuses to yield to the needs of the people.
I land in Santo Domingo in only a few hours. The America gentleman sitting next to me had been their many times so was able to help me find a taxi and give him directions to take me to an inexpensive hotel near to the bus station so I could head to Jose Oshays when ready. I had calls into Ruben but it would turn out that he was not available until Saturday eve to visit with me and it was only Thursday. I considered staying in Santo Domingo til sunday morn but after a night there and half a day in the inner city, I was worn out. The air was pungent with diesel smells as the cars lawlessly filled the highway out my front door. I didn't want to spend 100's more dollars to get a nicer hotel when I had free accomodation at Jose oshay. A quick search on the internet and I planned to get on the 4pm bus to Caberete. 4 ½ hours later I arrive in Sosua, met by Frank Brittingham. Frank was an old acquaintance from years of playing at Molly's in St Thomas but to Frank, I was a hero. He was a sailor for years and a rare person who truly respected my solo sail and teneacity to keep on with my dreams. I was not just an entertainer to him. Over the next few days, we would talk hours after breakfast and he would open my mind to the truth of life in these islands. Being a business man, he was connected to the real politics there. I would find out that not only was child slavery in Haiti but there was a 'free zone' in the DR where, despite some enforced labor laws over the greater businesses, an encampment held 1000's captive to the chinese and others who need slave labor to assemble every piece of cheap stuff in the world. Not just America, though certainly the addiction to buying junk there that has lead the world. Prostitution is the second highest income... Women enslaved, told that they would have opportunity...and filling the largest whore houses in the world. Inwardly I felt only compassion for each of them. No one can judge them. We can only feel the anguish of every mother and father who has to hand over their daughter to somehow help the family. The culture has adapted somehow but the horror of it all is before each of us. Yet somehow, the simplicity of the minds of the people insulate them to some extent from the vagrance of it all. Family is still the most important cultural hub. Catholicism has created a works system so many give more than they can afford to a church that gives nothing back but a belief that God will no longer hold back blessing to them.
I was emotionally parallyzed for days as it all flooded my tender spirit. But it would go farther. I was to meet a lovely mother and daughter from Honduras who own a jewelery shop in the Jose Oshay plaza area. The sweetest spirits. When I told the daugher one day of my sail around the world and why I was there with OceansWatch she told me about Dream Project, a school project in town. I would have to follow up on that. The next day I met her mom Eva. Our talk went from my sail to OW. She brought a book out from behind her counter. Evidently, one of the photographers from the book comes to the DR and has become a friend. The name of the book is ONE. I don't know how, but I read the book from the first page to the last. It contained the 'real statistics' and world behind those encampments, within the halls of the Marriot hotels where young girls are handed over to men to be used, starved and left on the streets without any health care, behind closed doors to the public.... a horror. There are eleven chapters illustrated with real photos of beautiful children in the world....slavery, hunger, trafficking,orphans,HIV/Aids, war, statelessness,diseases,thirst, corruption, education. 150billion dollars are spent in the corruption that shrouds these statistics. With that we could feed the world 10 times over. I believe that every human being needs to read this book.
My emotions were raw, my body and mind considering the abuses, my eyes seeing the youngest of girls sauntering up to men seductively, young haitian boys peddling homemade candy and artwork for pimps who would take most of the money they took in. I was sick inwardly. Angry, humiliated to have been so naïve, ignorant. What has all the years of education gained me?? an ability to close my eyes and pay 1$ for things that there is no way could have been made for that, more over at a profit, accept through slavery. How could I even begin to imagine a world where there is equity? The corruption must stop and humanity has to return to the hearts of the world. The common person is still walking around with blinders on.
Exhausted and sick before I arrived, the 3 nights of singing my heart out left me with a broken voice, a sore throat and oppressed with all around me. It is amazing though to me how ones own energy field attracts like fields. I was to meet many caring people who also care about the situation who began to give me hope realizing the the OW vision is vital to help these islands. I began to reach out to contacts of genuine people who are laying down their lives to create projects to educate, support families, teach young people about diseases and bring hope to so many. Each one was spellbound at the idea of bringing people to the island by sea. They grasped the depth of the skills and knowhow of sailors and the access we can have by harbors.
Despite my desire to get ahold of every project I could and visit schools, I was just worn out. I couldn't just drive to these places and had such a limited time there. Frank was a terrific host and planned some restful excursions, boat trips to beaches. A few friends of Franks arrived from STT and low and behold, I knew them well myself. I gave into relaxing with these side trips and trusted that I would somehow have enough to go with when I returned. I played music 3 nights and then had 4 to recover. I was to play 3 more... my voice was still in rough shape. Mike and Frank were terrific and as things went, I was able to take it easy those nights, playing less hours. They auditioned a local fellow Tony one night so I only played an hour. Tony was a refreshment. We were able to jam in on a few songs. He has a deep spirit. I am always amazed at how the joining of energy playing music seems to be a special place for me. Truly, those few moments sharing a song, across all cultural, gender barriers seems to release so much hope within me. I can''t understand it but thank God for it.
And as life would bless me, the last 24 hours in Caberete were a sychronistic wonder. Every step I took filled in the gaps to make every necessary connection that would allow me to transform the OW dream into reality. I met the founder of Dream Project, now beginning a new project. A sailing club... education... I met the director of Dream Project, a well established organization designed to be able to bring anyone to the island and put them to work... Absolutely a voluteer genius bringing sustainable training programs to the local schools and communities. From college students to church groups, anyone can arrive and get involved. A perfect match for Oceanswatch sailors. I was able to get in direct contact with Vaden, author of ONE. Though I never caught up with his project leader, the groundwork is laid for us to work together. Individuals came out of the woodwork who have connections as sailors, educators, organizers....
By the end of the second day of singing, I was aware that I would never be able to make the commitments to sing in ST Thomas the following 4 nights. Plus I had gotten an offer to skipper for the Sherry Lee's new owners starting on the 18th. I was so exhausted and needed to go home. A long talk with Bob and I felt a real peace about changing my plans. I almost canceled the whole trip t o STT but it turned out that Molly's was willing to allow me to sing sunday – tuesday giving me some recovery time. I decided to let go of being at the benefit concert which was a disappointment yet my being there wasn't going to impact the outcomes for the Good Samaritan Project. I would be able to deliver the paintings for auction. I changed my reservation, though more money lost, to return on the 15th. A total peace came over me. It was right. I had done all I could in this trip. If I was to get any articles out and follow up, I needed to recover. I needed to have some time home before the next barrage of commitments sailing. Early Wednesday morn, Mike would drop me to the bus station. I had one more long day of travel, a meeting with Ruben, before finally landing in the arms of Bob at home.
It was only 4 am when I awoke unsettled Wednesday morn. My minds computer has been churning all night. I hadn't checked in to my flight home. When I diverted my plan to go direct from Haiti to the DR, I hadn't thought to call the airline to insure my return flight would be ok... I woke in a sweat. I had to check my flight. I couldn't use my computer as there was no signal at the house. My phone wouldn't work and the house phone couldn't dial an 800 number being international. It was a restless 2 hours before mike awoke and I relayed my concerns to him. Luckily would have it that he had a USVI phone that managed to work there. I could call the 800 number with it. Sure enough, I had goofed. By not calling in when I didn't use the arriving flight, I had canceled the whole reservation. My body felt in shock... I was a bit beligerant to the guy on the phone though it wasn't his fault. I just didn't think to check it. We worked through the situation looking for a solution. The only option was to purchase a new ticket...330$ one way. My heart finally quieted and acceptance took over. All I wanted to do was go home and have my one eve with Bob. I realized that every day we are susceptible to potential financial nightmares whether by an accidental injury, illness or whatever. I would consider my self lucky to only have this bungle cost a few hundred dollars. There was nothing I could do and by grace, there was money in my account to cover it. Little did I know that it would throw up a warning to my bank that would cost tons of hours to resolve but all in all, I got back on line. The internet is such a miracle for communication but holds its costs. 2 days before an internet hacker had stolen my hotmail account and wrote a fraudulent letter saying I was in trouble and needed money. I spent ions of hours getting my account back and warning my email lists, dealing wth letters of concern.
It was an hour and a half before customs was through with me and I finally saw Bob's face at the end of the corridor. He had worried so, yet let me go. His relief showed all over his body language. I could barely contain my gait from running to him. My trip was incredible but I was exhausted, the weight of the enlightenment I had gained heavy. I had so much to do as I knew that OW can make a difference. But now I could let go and enjoy the simplicity of loving for a night. The banking panic had to be dealt with but Bob was patient beyond patient. We finally had dinner and were able to close the door to the world and relax in our safe and loving world.
My flight out to St Thomas was at 1pm giving us a relatively leisure morn. I can't express how I appreciated Bob's support and gentleness as he helped me repack bags, leaving what I didn't need with him to take home. The fact that I would only be gone a few more days and then back for a break made it easier to let go of our last hug as I headed for the check in counter. Luckily the USVI is considered domestic so the check in was quick. I could relax until the flight. At 335pm the plane touched down in St Thomas. My brother was right there to greet me and take me to his home.
I wasn't sure how my time in ST Thomas would fit into my new vision. But it was evident within a day that I belonged here, having developed a tremendous rapport with many people there as they have watched my life these last 10 years. From a lost mid aged woman struggling, little self esteem to a happy, centered woman who has found her peace. They always knew I was a loving and gentle soul but I was on a desperate search. They watched me persist, one set back after another to sail 50,000 solo miles on the Atlantic, soloing the world and becoming a USCG Captain. There is a respect I really don't think I understand for me here. They are open to my heart.
I was correct about the sailing community here. They are ready and willing to give back to these islands. The response has been overwhelmingly positive when I share my dream. Yes, they have skills and knowledge. Yes they are veteran sailors who are anxious to have more purpose in their cruising lives. Yes, they just need an organization. Yes, Yes, yes..... OceansWatch is really as much a potential godsend to those looking for ways to have a positive impact as it is to those needing helps. It is for me and this enthusiasm is contagious. We can make a difference.
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