Day 18: Haitian Border

6.16.12.

At the border, the fence marks Haiti

The drive to the border was 4 hours so after a back aching bus ride, we finally parked at a curb. Jane informed us that the people here will try to steal anything loose and hanging off of us, so we left most things on the bus besides cameras. After a filling, heavy meal at a diner where we got a plate for each food we ordered (it made me feel awful because I knew I couldn't finish all of the five plates they gave me, and there were thousands of hungry people in the market just outside the restaurant). I enjoyed pear nectar and caramelized plantains while I was there though, and afterwards we set out to observe the market. We first walked to a gate, which truly was the line between Dominican Republic and Haiti. Trucks crammed with goods were passing through a small opening in the fence, guarded by armed men. Children were on the Haitian side, with filled baskets and bowls balanced on their little heads, pleading with those around them to buy something.

Through the market - very cramped

We then walked to the market entrance, which again was marked by a fence where we were instructed to stay single file and close as we weaved our way through the market. We had all worn our red GLA shirts, and once we entered the craze of the market place, we realized why. People were whizzing by us balancing huge bundles on their heads or pushing crammed wheelbarrows, and the whole area was so jammed with people that at some points we could barely see our group ahead. A woman sat on buckets on the side, selling dried herbs and spices and fish heads while a man emerged from a tiny alleyway in between shacks with huge bags of rice on his head. The Haitians and Dominicans didn't seem to mind our presence too much, excepts sometimes they'd give us angry looks when we'd get in their way. Again, I don't blame them, as I would probably be just as irritated with a bunch of Americans storming through my market place observing us like animals.

Drinking, Bathing, Washing water, all in one.

For us though, I think it made a lot of people wonder how America and other first world countries can run like we do, living in ignorant bliss to the horrors and hardships that these people must suffer through every day of their lives. When we got to the ligament border, made up from several flimsy fence barriers linked together with chains, we saw children playing in the river. The river that was probably one of the few sources of water that these people had. While the naked boys were splashing in the water, their mothers were cleaning clothes and doing laundry, while another women filled up drinking bottles. It was appalling that this dirty river served so many purposes because they didn't have any other options.

We talked to the guards on duty, who informed us that the Haitians can come to the DR twice a week without a passport, every Monday and Friday for the market. This is where they generate most of their income.

The Haitian government cut down the trees and drained the country of its resources before fleeing and leaving the citizens helpless. Now, because they are unable to crow their own crops, they rely on the Dominicans who sell food. In return, the Haitians sell the goods they get donated from first world countries like America (clothes for example), and use the money they earn to buy food for their starving families. Although this may seem like a decent system at first, think of all the problems and issues that will arise in the future - hitting these poor, third world countries first - like the lack of fresh water, oil crisis, etc. Once this occurs, there will only be more competition, and food prices may rise or the Dominicans may stop selling food to the Haitians all together, in which case the millions of people residing in Haiti will plunge into a state of crisis.

Caged Children

Selling Trucks

We talked about these faulty systems on our long bus ride home and the discussion later that night, brainstorming things that could be done to help better the situation of these people.