A typical Haitian family and all their worldly goods.

The wafting smoke from heaps of smoldering trash greets visitor to Haiti. Baby Doc Duvalier was the dictator during my first visit in 1984. The dreaded Toto Makut (Duvalier’s feared secret police force) were in charge back then. During my next few visits, Aristide was President. And Preval was in command the last time I traveled to this poorest country in the Western hemisphere.

I’ve read Haitian Lore, studied the Haitian Creole language, brought Haitians to the U.S. for first-time visits, and helped an American family adopt Haitian children.

Do you know what small children do in such poor places? They laugh and play just like children in the rest of the world (only their playgrounds are strewn with unpleasant sights, sounds, and smells that I will not mention here).

I can never forget the impressions on my senses, the friends I made, the closeness I feel to the people I met. Here are some tidbits of what I learned from my Haitian brothers and sisters…

Haitians are a proud people. They are the only slave culture to have fought and won their own freedom; and they won by fighting Napoleon’s forces! And yes, it’s true – as every Haitian will tell you – that the war for freedom began by way of a midnight pact with the devil and a pig sacrifice.

Five hundred thousand slaves revolted against 50,000 French landowners. Napoleon’s Navy came to the rescue. But the Native guerrilla warfare coupled with Captain Malaria (as it was called by the French forces), defeated the effort and caused a full retreat.

Remember the 4 year embargo we put Haiti under while Aristide fell victim to the first military coup? Residents of Haiti received no electricity or fuel (reserved for military use) and around 300,000 Haitians were killed by anti-Aristide mobs who shot first and asked questions later. You were guilty if you had any association with a Rooster (Aristide’s symbol during his election – much like our democratic donkey or republican elephant symbols). It was easy to get rid of your pesky neighbor in those days by just drawing a rooster outline on their dwelling and calling for the death squad.

My own contacts were in danger for just receiving a letter from America. I remember getting a call one day from my friend telling me in a quick whisper not to contact him until the political situation cleared up. Soon after, he was imprisoned for a month or so. I won’t repeat how people are treated in prison there. He was about to be executed himself when some man dressed in white walked in, vouched for him, and left. To this day he doesn’t know who it was.

The General Hospital in Port-au-Prince is nothing like what most folks imagine. When the media portrays it as being in devastation because of the earthquake, well, they should have seen it before the earthquake. Intensive care meant you would receive an IV of saline solution. General care included two servings per day of corn meal mush (assuming you had the money to pay for it).

Pay as you go is the rule in Haiti. I saw one patient in gown laying in the rubble out back of the Hospital. I asked why and was told he had no more money to pay for a bed inside. Bad for him. Good for the next person waiting amidst the pressing crowd at the heavily-guarded, front gate.

But don’t criticize too harshly. Most of us don’t really understand true poverty. We may be familiar with lack but not destitution. Oh, the stories I could tell. The strange and unusual occurrences, experiences, phenomena, and the like. There’s really no place like Haiti. I wouldn’t trade my experiences there for anything. It was altogether to wonderful. Too impactful (a word I make up for an experience I can’t adequately express).

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