The following is from an email my sister, Bébhinn, sent home during her visit here in Bánica:
Last Sunday I went to Haiti for the first time. A friend of Máire’s, who is familiar with Haiti and speaks Creole, took us over. Bánica, (the town where I’m staying in the Dominican Republic,) is right on the river that separates the two countries, so we didn’t have to go far to get to the other side. We crossed the river in canoes instead of swimming across so that we wouldn’t have to spend all day in Haiti soaking wet. The canoes are very primitive looking, and the Haitians steer them with long sticks instead of paddles. Our canoe was very full of people, and it felt like it would tip over at any second, but we made it dry to the other side. As soon as we stepped onto the shore I could tell that this side of the river was completely different from the side I had just left. Because Bánica is so close to the border, we see Haitians here everyday, and I can see the mountains in Haiti from my house. But actually being there is totally different. The first thing I saw in Haiti was their market, which was in stark contrast to the market in Bánica.
There were no tables, so all the merchants had to lay their goods on the ground. As we walked further into the country, it became quite obvious that in this part of Haiti, there is NOTHING paved, and there is no motorized anything. The first place we stopped at was the ruins of an old military fort, which had also acted as a jail.
It is perched on top of a mountain overlooking the river and the Dominican Republic, and we could see our house from there.
It’s interesting to compare the scenery of the Dominican Republic to that of Haiti. They both have the same breathtaking mountains, but in Haiti there are a lot fewer trees.
The people use all possible space, including mountains, to grow crops. This lack of trees made it a little difficult during our long walk, because here in the Caribbean it’s very important to spend some time in the shade. ;-) After we stopped at the fort, we continued into Haiti and eventually came to the little village of Sabana Mulata.
It was so strange to be in this Haitian village after coming from the Dominican Republic. I had thought the Dominican Republic was so far below the United States in wealth, but it seemed as if Haiti was just as far below the Dominican Republic. Some people say that Haiti doesn’t even qualify as a third-world country—that it’s technically a fifth-world country—and from what I saw of it, that could definitely be true. I can’t even really describe to you how the village was. It’s one thing for me to tell you that these people are living in one-room shacks, but until you actually see it for yourself it won’t mean the same thing. While we were in Sabana Mulata, we stopped to see their Catholic church, and sat in on the end of the ceremony. They couldn’t actually have Mass because there was no priest there, but the joy of the people was apparent. Even before we could see the chapel we could hear them singing. If there’s one thing that I’ve missed while being in the Dominican Republic, it’s good singing. I haven’t quite figured out why, but most Dominicans seem to be tone deaf. Not so for these Haitians. They put the Dominicans, (and most Americans!) to shame. It was so refreshing to hear their harmonies, and new and interesting for me to hear them sing along with their pitched drums. When we walking into the chapel, we tried to sit quietly in the back row so we wouldn’t distract anyone, but EVERYONE in the chapel turned around and looked at us. Some of the children never turned back around, and continued to stare at us for the rest of the ceremony. It occurred to me that maybe they had never seen someone as white as me before…
After we left the chapel we went down to the river to cool off a little before the trek back to Bánica. On the way back we passed many Haitians returning to their homes after a day at the market in Bánica. It was only then that I realized that we had made this trip for fun, tiring as it was, but these people had to make this trip several times a week only to sell a few eggs or a bag of rice in order to stay alive. We reached the river, waded across, and were back “home.” That is, in fact, what it felt like. Being in Haiti made Spanish seem easy to understand and made the Dominican Republic feel like home.
Last Sunday I went to Haiti for the first time. A friend of Máire’s, who is familiar with Haiti and speaks Creole, took us over. Bánica, (the town where I’m staying in the Dominican Republic,) is right on the river that separates the two countries, so we didn’t have to go far to get to the other side. We crossed the river in canoes instead of swimming across so that we wouldn’t have to spend all day in Haiti soaking wet. The canoes are very primitive looking, and the Haitians steer them with long sticks instead of paddles. Our canoe was very full of people, and it felt like it would tip over at any second, but we made it dry to the other side. As soon as we stepped onto the shore I could tell that this side of the river was completely different from the side I had just left. Because Bánica is so close to the border, we see Haitians here everyday, and I can see the mountains in Haiti from my house. But actually being there is totally different. The first thing I saw in Haiti was their market, which was in stark contrast to the market in Bánica.
There were no tables, so all the merchants had to lay their goods on the ground. As we walked further into the country, it became quite obvious that in this part of Haiti, there is NOTHING paved, and there is no motorized anything. The first place we stopped at was the ruins of an old military fort, which had also acted as a jail.
It is perched on top of a mountain overlooking the river and the Dominican Republic, and we could see our house from there.
It’s interesting to compare the scenery of the Dominican Republic to that of Haiti. They both have the same breathtaking mountains, but in Haiti there are a lot fewer trees.
The people use all possible space, including mountains, to grow crops. This lack of trees made it a little difficult during our long walk, because here in the Caribbean it’s very important to spend some time in the shade. ;-) After we stopped at the fort, we continued into Haiti and eventually came to the little village of Sabana Mulata.
It was so strange to be in this Haitian village after coming from the Dominican Republic. I had thought the Dominican Republic was so far below the United States in wealth, but it seemed as if Haiti was just as far below the Dominican Republic. Some people say that Haiti doesn’t even qualify as a third-world country—that it’s technically a fifth-world country—and from what I saw of it, that could definitely be true. I can’t even really describe to you how the village was. It’s one thing for me to tell you that these people are living in one-room shacks, but until you actually see it for yourself it won’t mean the same thing. While we were in Sabana Mulata, we stopped to see their Catholic church, and sat in on the end of the ceremony. They couldn’t actually have Mass because there was no priest there, but the joy of the people was apparent. Even before we could see the chapel we could hear them singing. If there’s one thing that I’ve missed while being in the Dominican Republic, it’s good singing. I haven’t quite figured out why, but most Dominicans seem to be tone deaf. Not so for these Haitians. They put the Dominicans, (and most Americans!) to shame. It was so refreshing to hear their harmonies, and new and interesting for me to hear them sing along with their pitched drums. When we walking into the chapel, we tried to sit quietly in the back row so we wouldn’t distract anyone, but EVERYONE in the chapel turned around and looked at us. Some of the children never turned back around, and continued to stare at us for the rest of the ceremony. It occurred to me that maybe they had never seen someone as white as me before…
After we left the chapel we went down to the river to cool off a little before the trek back to Bánica. On the way back we passed many Haitians returning to their homes after a day at the market in Bánica. It was only then that I realized that we had made this trip for fun, tiring as it was, but these people had to make this trip several times a week only to sell a few eggs or a bag of rice in order to stay alive. We reached the river, waded across, and were back “home.” That is, in fact, what it felt like. Being in Haiti made Spanish seem easy to understand and made the Dominican Republic feel like home.
posted by maire at 5:24 PM
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