“Haiti is a laboratory...”

“...Haiti is the next case study...” he continues with an assertive yet commanding voice, this man a prominent economist... “the next case study... not to repeat” he concludes. Did I say he looks a dead ringer for president Obama?

This man is not only an economic guru giving out his radio show across the capital city on advise when he not a professor, but also Haiti’s former midfield football player, World Cup commentator and also advisor to Government and now NGOs.

It’s really a bizarre journey that I find myself in Kesner Pheral’s office. He’s sitting behind his desk filled with journals and books and his mini-mac on his desk as he explains with great commanding voice about the economic challenges of his country.

I conveniently don’t tell him that I failed my economics class at school.

He says the main problem in Haiti is that the NGO’s don’t have the capacity to manage the reconstruction.... Now NGO’s are a business in Haiti. The highest per capita in the world.

Interestingly, I heard the same mantra from the Department for International Development. That NGOs just aren’t project managers in the same way that the Private sector are.

Kesner keeps giving us pearls of insight and when we tell him of our mission he gives us a proverbial “put on the back” by saying he wishes us well and sees the value, but his voice seemed to have a accent of you are speaking in “ideals” and “perfect world” scenarios.

You know when you are in the presence of greatness and I found myself filling with huge respect for this man and his work giving advise to help his country at grassroots levels and to the re-builders of his country.

Did I say that he looked and sounded like Obama?

Meetings, Meetings, Meetings

It starts.

The numerous journeys around town, second guessing the traffic, taking the back alleys and journeying around the city.

I was warned about the Port au Prince traffic. Today its a meeting with an NGO, the British government development arm and a bank.

...

I must confess as I head back to our guest house I was reflecting on how impressive the bank was in looking to rebuilding Haiti.

It was started by a pastor who sought to lend money to the poor.

Port au Prince, the Earthquake city

Devastation. Destruction. It’s very evident that there was an earthquake here. Buildings collapsed. Rubble everywhere. Tent cities. UN vehicles.

I remember walking through Mostar in Bosnia and there were plaque saying “don’t forget” . Pictures of the famous bridge in that once beautiful city being bombed. The words were etched everywhere.

This city I now am being driven around by our driver Robert bears a testimony that the past 7 months, post earthquake, are part of the fabric of the economy, part of its day-to-day. Many people lost a lot: their homes, their loved ones, their stability. The earth was taken from beneath them in many ways. I don’t know what the city was like 8 months ago before the disaster but now I see business as usual around me. But with demolished buildings everywhere, tents in the street and piles of rubble everywhere.

Audio Clip Standing outside the palace

This is the most devasted area from the earthquake, whilst not the epicentre. But its buildings that kill people during earthquakes and with a population of 9.8 million.

This will be our base for the next two and a half days. We have 6 meetings and visit into a slum before we fly up north to visit another project.

Our goal here to glean as much learning that we can from the NGOs, UN, Banks, Government as we can about how we can move forward the dialogue between business & NGO coloration to help the planet’s problems.

Haitian Currency

There are three currencies in Haiti. The guides just told me about the Haitian Gourde. So when people start quoting me in “buck” or dollars I presume that they are referring to the US dollar and then have the feeling that “my, that’s rather steep in value”.

So what was supposed to be a simple task of getting a local sim card... turns into one of those “ah ha” moments. Our guide JR has just taken us past a security guard into a bank called Fonkoze. The goal: get some local money.

We go in and sit down. Queuing. I know how to do that. I thought it would be a great time to start a lesson in observation of how locals do transactions.

What most people were saying was just noise and I pay attention to their body language. Trying to study it. My fondness for Sherlock Holmes taught me to observe and learn the art of reading the non verbal signs but some of the languages of body and intention.

I’m not a fast learner and I’m none the wiser after my study of banking interactions.

We wait.

JR says how much do we want we let him know.

He tells us something about dollars and I nod thinking I know exactly what he is saying.

End of bank

Where I realise that I should have listened was when we find ourselves negotiating for a sim card in the market place. JR says the words and numbers and talks of Bucks and Gourdes. But none of the maths work out. Now I think I’m ok at arithmetic. Was never that good in darts but when it comes to currencies I’ve got by.

So when a sim card + phone cost about 40 bucks i find it odd that he’s taking 600 Gourdes from me. And that’s my translator. Whoa there... what is this a swindle. He explains several times. I offer a courteous nod. But I have know clue what he’s talking about.

Then when we are sipping a coke later JR explains that on street level everyone talks of the Haitian dollar. The actually currency on paper and the tags on items remains in gourds. Lastly there’s the US dollar that seems to hang in the background as the “parent” currency.

It makes sense... but just not to me.

At least we have a phone. Shame our contacts in St Marc aren’t picking up.

St Marc pt 2

The car suffered on the way down to St Marc. The driver is keen to get back. He wants to beat the traffic. His intention is to beat the traffic.

He said last night he’d like to leave at 4am. JR, however, was keen to ensure that we get on the right bus.

It’s now 5am and we’re running around getting packed. JR comes in to say the bus is leaving shortly and he’ll knock again.

Knock knock

JR is back but he’s minus his driver and helper. They left without him. He’s a little startled... but it allows for us to have his company for a little bit longer as he escorts us down to Port au Prince. The sceneray drastically changes the closer we get to it.

Roads

I keep remembering CJ Cregg (press secretary from the fictitious West Wing series) response to a billionaire bloke’s question of what big project could he undertake to direct his global good will and philanthropy. She said simply “roads” before the usual Sorkin-esque razor monologue-cum-dialogue would kick in. I remember it clearly as I bump across these makeshift roads next to the old one which was “swept away” by the hurricane (a disaster of yesteryear). We’re still 2 hours away from St Marc.

Here’s what I see: a wide stream running through between stony cliffs and vegetation next to it. The stream fairly mild filled with stones... beside it a makeshift track covered with stones and holes and right on its edge a jagged tarmac remnant of a washed away road. Occasionally, the road would reappear and then it would end and you can see that its end... but the dirt track would snake round. This is the major road running through the area.

I’m starting to think that sitting in the back of this pick up was not such great idea.

Audio Diary St Marc eve

More to come

A few more posts will be coming together with some videos... Watch this space

The beach

As I write I'm on a beach with a view of paradise. A picture of an ideal Carribean holiday. The beach is clean. The sound of waves calming. It's my last day in Haiti.

My host Carwyn said "I wanted to show you a different part of Haiti". This is different. Different from the Shada slum that I just came from. Different from the paediatric ward with blown incubators from the surging volatile electricity with no running water and sanitising cream. Different from walking into the feeding school in cite soleil slum. And different from driving through the earthquake devastation still very much present in port au prince through the tent cities and building rubble.

It feels bizarre being here.

St Marc

Several days ago I was in my dining room with my kids going crazy and then I phoned my contact in Cap Haitien saying he was with a potential translator and it was time to do some “hard core” negotiating. My children enjoyed jumping on my lap seeing the skype icons asking me what i was doing and trying to type with me as we were in the middle of negotiating a deal. As it ended i read these words “this is Haiti... things go wrong and get used to it.”

We’ve been trying to get hold of a contact in St Marc. Tried phoning, emailing and phoning some more. No joy. We’re banking on him finding us a hotel and giving us a ride down from St Marc to Port au Prince as well as having a meeting. No response, nor joy in connecting. It’s now dark as we are riding in this truck. Driving with light was difficult enough. In the distance are some thunder storms. We know because we see the heavens lights up from time to time. We’re now crammed in the car.

St Marc comes and we still are unable to connect. Our contingency is simply to find somewhere. After asking various people and even a motorbike escort taking us out of town to a dark guest house and then a drive back into town we find the hotel oriental. The generators were pumping out its weakened light as we went in and found our place of solace. The heat was fierce.

Our drivers and translator are leaving us tomorrow and we have no way down to Port au Prince. This could well be one of those “this is Haiti” moments.

... TBC

Road Trip

I keep remembering CJ Cregg (press secretary from the fictitious West Wing series) response to a billionaire bloke’s question of what big project could he undertake to direct his global good will and philanthropy. She said simply “roads” before the usual Sorkin-esque razor monologue-cum-dialogue would kick in. I remember it clearly as I bump across these makeshift roads next to the old one which was “swept away” by the hurricane (a disaster of yesteryear). We’re still 2 hours away from St Marc.

Here’s what I see: a wide stream running through between stony cliffs and vegetation next to it. The stream fairly mild filled with stones... beside it a makeshift track covered with stones and holes and right on its edge a jagged tarmac remnant of a washed away road. Occasionally, the road would reappear and then it would end and you can see that its end... but the dirt track would snake round. This is the major road running through the area.

I’m starting to think that sitting in the back of this pick up was not such great idea.

(Picture to come)

walking the line

at the refugee simulation that was put on at davos, there's a boarder crossing that is simulated. one of the actors says he experienced a border crossing just like this in Congo. it was commented on repeatedly during the debrief of the simulation of how scary that encounter with the guard is.

boarders to me mostly comprise of smiling at some camera and looking at a clerk who attempts to quickly work out where to stamp my passport. its tedious.

Dajabon is a border town. it's where the Dominican Republic borders with Haiti. entering the boarder is like entering a hive of people. the gates were shut with a hoarde of people wanting to com across. even there were a range of people touting for business offering some form of help. we were escorted by a 14 year old boy our translator who spoke no english and met us through a piece of paper with our names written on it.

confusion was rife. lots of noise. a myraid of smells and a general sense of slow control and clinging to your possession as a person would cling to some sense of something certain. something normal. 2 sets of paperwork: leaving one country and entering another.

after leaving DR through the gates and the people wanting to cross over we are "grabbed" by a man who says our names. it was a moment that clarified the confusion. a moment where sense came back. our translator transpired to have not been allowed to eneter the DR to come and collect us and sent the 14 year old lad instead.

we had gained several new "helpers", some shine my scuffed sandals, the more trying to shine them. our alcohol smelling helper who helped us cross over, or more like just walked with us, started to ask for money for their services.

i was grateful. i expressed this and thanked them before jumping into the truck for i knew i had just walked the line.

Hotel Massacre

sitting in my bedroom thinking about how to sleep amongst the town noise (loud music booming, motorbikes zooming past). its approaching midnight and we arrived at the hotel massacre about an hour ago.

the heat is bearable. even more so with the fan whirling. the room is small and the tv that hangs over my bed sits within a padlocked cage as i type beneath its cathode ray presence.

i'm not quite in Haiti. I sit across the river Massacre in The Dominican Republic. Only been here 6 hours. spent most of those hours sitting in a cab with our driver Wilfredo apart from our banana frita and southern fried chicken stop in ?

the roads were great for about half of the journey. i thought he was kidding when he said it would take 4 hours for a 180km trip. he was fairly accurate. i got used to the stop start routine, overtaking buses and motor bikes with their families sitting on them. the views were immense: rainbows, lush green hills, road side cafes, people sitting in their plastic chairs by the side of the road, rubbish dumps with people coming out with their plastic bags with other people's disposable treasures.

tomorrow we head over the boarder... but for tonight we dwell in hotel massacre. a hotel with a name that ought to send chills down any resident who has been brought up on slasher flicks. the name, however, bears testimony to a horror that saw between 20-30,000 Haitians executed over an incident known as the Parsley Massacre. somewhat scarier than any film.

Video Diary#1

coming soon once i figure out how to upload it from my iphone...

Winding back the clock

Just over 7 months ago I woke up with BBC radio 4 stating how "this" was a sad event for an already struggling country. 3 children and duties kicked in before I could work out both the "this" and the "who" from the report.

As I got into work the news started cascading down. The scale of devastation immense. The response was shock. I wasn't alone in this feeling.

We had been deep in preparation for a launch of the business and UN partnerships website a project that has been 5 years in the making and also for the Davos Refugee Run.

Within a few days we had the first few phonecalls and then they flooded in. The question fairly similar "do they need... And if so how do I partner?"

This went on and on.

We were humbled by the public response. The information we provided sought to direct such an enquiry to a partnership.

7 months on I'm at gatwick airport about to board a delayed plane to the Dominican republic to cross over into Haiti to find out about those partnerships.

preamble: BBC Radio 21.01.10

7 months ago this was what i was involved in:

BBC Radio Kent Interview with Ben Solanky 21-1-10