The Invisible Architecture

A New Kind of Diaspora

2011-06-14T17:33:00.000-05:00

Over the last year, many, many people have spent time in Haiti as a future parent, aid worker, or mission volunteer. I am among one of many diverse people who now have an emotional connection to a place that might have not even registered on their consciousness a few years prior. One question I have that will be fascinating to see answered is how these new social connections make an impact. It's not just about me, there is a whole web of people connected to me who are now invested in the welfare and future of Haiti. How many of us will change the course of our life or others' lives because of our time in Haiti?

I would love to hear from my readers on how you found my blog and your interest in Haiti. Comment on this post or send me an email at cristinagarmendia@gmail.com.

Also I have several unfinished blog posts that I could be motivated to finish:

The Diaspora and Remittances
Self-Reliance
Streetscape as Public Space
Gender in Haiti
A Cushion from Catastrophe
Cultivating Democracy in Haiti
Rural Sprawl in Haiti
The Politics of Language

Port-au-Prince, I love you.

2011-06-14T16:41:00.004-05:00

I unexpectedly returned to the US from Haiti almost 2 months ago. I'm honestly still mourning from saying goodbye to this amazing country but I thought I should write. On one of my last nights, I and two dear friends climbed up an iron latticed door to the roof of their house in Delmas to watch the sun set over Port-au-Prince. We lugged up lawn chairs and deliciously ice-y sodas purchased from a street-side cracked foam cooler. The breeze was cool as we talked about the many names of Haiti. Potoprens, Port-au-Prince, PAP. Cap-Haitien, Kapayisyen, Okap.

We talked about how beautiful it would be to make a film that would tell the story of the people, the camera jumping to follow someone new as they passed each other in the streets, the theater of Haiti. Let's begin with a scene of a mother viciously brushing her daughter's hair as she prepares her for school. Close-up on the somber face of the girl as her hair is bedecked in ribbons that match her school uniform, then watch her navigate the traffic and rubble of the city as she walks to school, somewhere nowhere near as bright and clean as herself. The socks with the ruffles kept bright white by a one-girl ballet avoiding puddles, grease, straight-up sewage.

The camera would get a direct look into the eyes of a young male musician and then follow him. And so on with a laborer, a maid in a wealthy household, a Creole monopolist, a young boy being trained in metalwork by his older brothers and father. Catch the tap-tap back into the country with the ti machann, who travel for hours between their homes and Port-au-Prince to buy and sell their wares, stuffed tightly in with chickens and heads of cabbage.

Life in Haiti was both monotonous and dramatic, full of the contrast that makes for great art. No wonder there are so many vivid writers, painters, and musicians here.

I was hoping to have a smooth transition into other work to tell you about, but I'm still looking. I don't have much longer to wait until I do start the next exciting chapter of my life as a graduate student at the Harvard Kennedy School of Government. I will be concentrating in Social and Urban Policy. I will continue posting on Haiti as I learn more, but I may have to start a new blog to share more about who I meet and learn from in the next 2 years. Thank you all for reading.

Limitations of Gifts-In-Kind: A Day Without Dignity

2011-04-05T17:01:00.001-05:00

Aid bloggers across the world are writing on behalf of "A Day Without Dignity," a counter-campaign to TOMS Shoes advertising-campaign "A Day Without Shoes" being held today. TOMS Shoes give away a pair of shoes to someone in a developing country for every pair of shoes they sell. This is otherwise known as "gifts in kind," which all sort of individuals and corporations do with their cast-off items for tax benefits.

There has been a lot of response from people mad on behalf of TOMS who believe that "doing something" is equivalent to "doing something good." Something is better than nothing, right? Not always. There is intervention, providing a good or service that is not available (like a complicated surgery) and then there is interference (disrupting the local market for shoes or food by distributing free shoes or food). It is easy to give some thing to somebody, but it is a lot harder (and a lot more worthwhile) to create access to that essential item or enable someone to have the means to purchase that item.

Tom Paulson of Humanosphere writes, "The problem many have with TOMS Shoes is that donating goods is widely regarded today as at best an inferior form of development assistance and, at worst, an external commercial force (whether well-intended or not) that works to undermine local businesses and economies in poor communities."

Shoe-seller in rural Haiti

Haitians don't lack shoes to buy, I pass a dozen or so shoe-sellers every day on my way to work.
Yes, Haitians need shoes to stay safe from the trash and disease on the street.
Yes, children need shoes to be allowed to attend school.
But shoes are attainable for the vast majority of the maléré, the poor. Most of the women I see wear pretty little sandals that wear out in like a month!

There are many things that aren't attainable for the poor that require the resources and abilities of many: good schools, good roads, and good water. Like I have written before, a lot of these things aren't something that people at home can help with. These are the essential roles of government. What Haitians need most of all is a government that can respond effectively to these challenges. Michel Martelly was peaceably elected yesterday as the next president of Haiti. Despite his inexperience and flaws, the aid community and other governments are needed to provide mentorship and resources to his government in order to solve the problems that can be solved by no one else.

Some of my favorite posts in response to A Day Without Dignity:

Humanitarian Aid and Education: An Autoethnography

This one is on the long side, but is a must-read for anyone struggling with the vague desire to help others (especially the poor in foreign countries). Maybe you almost applied to Peace Corps!

Stratosphere: Uganda

Project Diaspora: Uganda

I came home and asked my mother (without revealing to her what I was about to write) what was the one thing, above all, she wanted me to have as I was growing up. Without hesitation and in the soft voice I’ve always known to have wisdom, she said, “an education.”

KM On A Dollar a Day: Listening

The poor themselves have needs, desires and hopes. They also have valuable insights into their situation and local knowledge about what might or might not work to improve it, or what it would take to introduce new ideas from the outside.

The Value of Education

2011-03-31T15:03:00.008-05:00

"I spent all of my savings to send my 4 children to school this year. Education is an investment for the future, it is something my children will always have and no one can take away. I was not educated, but my children can be. I am so proud of this.”

The crisp uniforms of children walking hand in hand with their parents to school, up steep mountains and through dense traffic and noxious puddles, is a visual that will always remain with me. Here, education matters. No one takes it for granted. You notice it right away.

Weeks, maybe months later, you will begin to see that most of the kids going to school are 3,5, 7 years old. There are less teenagers, and very few children who are practically adults. Only 29% of students graduate from primary school (Grade 6). Why?

Most Haitians cannot afford to send their children to school every year. The Red Cross reports that in many cases, school fees can exceed $140 per trimester per child. Our household pays 500 gourdes ($12) per month for the 3 year old daughter of one of our house-staff to go to preschool. 43% of families of children not attending school report that the major reason is cost. The interrupted nature of schooling in Haiti results in an average age of a Grade 5 student being 15.3 years old, versus the theoretical age of 11 years old. Overage students are not the result of grade repetition or dropping out of school, but rather late entrance into the school system.

Those who do send their children to school sacrifice many other things in order to do so. The data that we collect on incoming Solidarity clients at Fonkoze strongly illustrates this priority of the Haitian people. These statistics are prior to receiving any money or services from Fonkoze.

0% have running water from a pipe or a faucet.

52% do not know how to read and write.

79% are food insecure, which means they eat less than 2 meals each day and often do not know where their next meal is coming from.

Yet, with all this hardship:

78% send all of their children to school.

A special report by BRAC on Fonkoze's CLM pilot, our program for the ultra-poor, reported that "the obstacle to education... was not attitudinal, but economic. As soon as members’ economic capacity increased, they invested this into educating their children." The direct cost of schooling (registration, tuition and exam fees, uniform, textbooks and other supplies) was calculated (in 1980) to represent, on an average, 11 to 13% of per capita income. Half of all Haitian households live in absolute poverty, that is, on less than $1/day.

What I find very powerful to read is how much Haitians identify education with investment and insurance:

1: “I used my savings to pay for my children’s school fees. I know my case-manager advised me to use it to start a small trade, but a business is here one day and can be depleted tomorrow. There is nothing more valuable than a child’s education, which is an investment for the future. My case-manager agreed.”

2: “I sold a goat to pay for school fees this September. No one advised me of this, Haitians pride education. If I can teach my children to hold a pen, they will help me one day.”

3: “It costs a lot to educate a child in Haiti; you have to work very hard. When I helped them with their education, I considered it like putting money into a savings account. My children are my bank account.”

These women are correct. Education levels are very strongly related with poverty. The likelihood of being in extreme poverty is much higher for household heads with no education (61%) than for households heads who completed primary education through Grade 6 (43%). Household heads who have completed secondary education (through high school) are much better off (25 percent are poor) than those with only primary education.

Most client quotations come from the following source: CLM Final Evaluation

Delmas 32

2011-03-29T21:48:00.003-05:00

Last Friday at Architecture for Humanity's monthly meet-and-greet, we were shown a wonderful film by Frederick King of Fountainhead Films that documents the participatory planning process in the community of Delmas 32. From my own personal experience, community engagement is not easy because communities are not organized in a normal situation and scattered post-disaster. The number of people shown in the film is a real testament to the leadership present in this community and the effort put forth by its organizers.

Planning: SODADE Architects

Consulting: NYU Schack

Funding: World Bank

Organizing Haiti

2011-03-08T13:22:00.001-05:00

This week, a graduate architecture studio from University of Pennsylvania is visiting Haiti, hosted by Architecture for Humanity. Last night, five student groups presented their studio projects on Haiti for critique and discussion. They developed theoretical infrastructure projects around ideas of rubble, ravines, voodoo, tap-taps, and IDP camps. The reviewers, including Leslie Voltaire, were kind since none of students had ever been to Haiti before. The first half of their study back in Philadelphia was accurately named, "Remote Sensing." I'm sure their projects will develop new depth and understanding after their visit here.

It's now been a grand 3 years since I have been in an architecture studio, but I found myself already uncomfortable with the academic lingo of architecture school.

Activating
Repurposing
Organizing

Architecture students are well-versed in the art of distancing oneself from the complexity of reality.

Case study
Population
Lifestyle

In a way, these kind of language or thinking is necessary to be able to get a grasp on the chaos of Haiti and create some of architectural intervention or "solution." You ignore the messiest aspects of any problem, such as agency or funding. If you were to ask, "So who would implement this? Who would pay for this?" it would shut down the conversation because it's not a part of their training. They are engaged in the art of inspiration and visioning.

Mostly I found it interesting how students with no real-life experience of Haiti framed the culture and its needs. With an emphasis on planning, there was an overall desire to make the Haitian landscape "readable." Looking at photographs of post-earthquake streets, with the piles of rubble and trash, and seeing the country for the first time with all the people and commerce and movement... I can understand this desire. How the people live is invisible knowledge, it is not readily seen and understood. Mark where the tap-taps go and stop... Systematize way of allocating resources and open space... and so on.

Reviewer and local architect Yves Francois put it best when he asked the students to "celebrate and refine the chaos" of Haiti and Haitian culture. That is such a wonderful challenge: to marry creativity with reality.

I had some non-architect friends attend, who were quite impressed not only with their work and thought process, but also the culture of presentation. We may even adopt a form of mid-review so that we can learn more about the problem-solving process of other disciplines and organizations.

Laughing at Monsters

2011-03-01T11:11:00.002-05:00

Boys sing at the beach.

I spent the weekend in Jacmel for the Kanaval (Carnival) festivities. It felt good to openly gawk with wonder and to participate in a cultural celebration with both Haitians and ex-pats. What a simple pleasure it is to be able to take photographs of a magnificent and proud Haiti. I pointed my lens and instead of it saying, "You are sad and foreign to me," it sang, "You are beautiful and I admire you."

I do struggle with not being a citizen of the community in which I live, of forever being a tourist even though I have no other home waiting for me. I am 15 weeks into my 37 week stay. I want to belong. When do I earn it? Perhaps it is when one has neither a vague or distinct plan to leave. This inner conversation probably means I am not ultimately cut out to be a professional aid worker, traveling from place to place, always moving on.

I saw so many new things on this short trip. Beyond the fantastic (fantastical) costumes and the vast crowds of kompa dancing (1,2,1,2), there was a Martelly rally and a night spent in a house with no running water. Coming into town, there were roadblocks of children and men painted black with ashes and oil with rough sacks as masks. The moment when they pull the rope tight across the road to force you to stop could be scary if they were not also dancing or on stilts, leaning precariously down to the window to ask for their toll.

The people mingle with the monsters.

The celebration was at times somber with many depictions of death or menace by earthquake or cholera. Despite acknowledging the tragic, the festival celebrated vibrant life in all forms, in the people, animals, monsters and mystical beings. I may have been a tourist, but I did not passively receive what I saw and heard. Kanaval exaggerates everyday life into more vibrant, larger-than-life versions and it parodies the things we fear and asks us to laugh. That takes practice.

At times the floats are shocking and shows us this is not just a party.

Update March 2, 2011: My friend Jacob Kushner has published his article about Carnival for InfoSurHoy. I learned here that the white devils are called the Zel Maturin. Acquaintance Frank took some great photographs and also explained more of the cultural background of Carnival.

Fonkoze, Fonkoze

2011-02-25T08:49:00.002-05:00

Snapshots of rural Haiti

2011-02-24T16:22:00.002-05:00

The rice fields of Haiti

This week, I traveled to Limbe for an in-depth orientation to the work of Fonkoze. Limbe is near the northern coast of Haiti, and takes about 5 hours to get to from Port-au-Prince. I was able to attend two client meetings. The Solidarity groups meet twice a month: to make payments on their loans, apply for the next cycle, submit deposits to their savings accounts, and to learn about various topics (literacy, business skills, health). As well, it is a time for them to come together and share their experience. In contrast to my journey to the Dominican border, this trip was very scenic.

Building roads in Haiti

A dump truck would dump these little piles and dozens of people would take the big rocks and through them off to the side. Not sure why!

River-washing

Haiti does have trees.

The switchback road to Limbe and Cap Haitian.

Isolated market place at the intersection of two roads. We got swarmed while we were here.

This is one of the nicer rural houses, there are a lot of simple concrete block/tin roof and a few wattle and daub structures as well.

Solidarity meetings are held at this school for this center group. About 45 minutes away from Limbe through like 4 water crossings.

I am the only blan for miles so none of these kids want to talk to me!

Lionel the driver, a student with her teacher, and Laurence, Director of Education for Fonkoze.

I became more popular when I showed these kids their picture.

The man is the credit agent for this area. He gets around to all his rural postings by motorcycle.

The Center Chief and Education Monitor. Her group is called "Strong Women."

She signs her name to verify the amount of money she would like to borrow from Fonkoze in the next cycle.

Wake Up Call

2011-02-19T22:34:00.003-05:00

The morning was off to a bad start. It had rained heavily the night before, making our steep backyard more slippery than usual. It's slippery to start with because the soil is loose, and crumbles beneath your feet. No one else really attempts to navigate it but Eric and I, to walk our dog Lady.

While Eric was walking Lady yesterday morning he slipped and fell. This wouldn't be out of the ordinary, except for the unexplained appearance of a floor lamp in our trashy backyard. Eric landed on the heavy metal base with his side, fracturing some ribs. Lady, our loyal dog, promptly ran off. Lassie, she ain't.

Who, me?

By the time I came downstairs, Eric had managed to get back in the house and was sitting on the couch. He was thinking about going to the hospital. For us, that typically means the Jenkins-Penn camp hospital because it's closest and provides prompt, free care. When I suspected I had strep throat, I was diagnosed and treated at the JP camp. However, today, we thought we should go to Medishare Hospital Bernard Mevs, which is further away but housed in an actual building. They can treat more serious injuries there. As it turns out, it is the only critical care facility in Haiti.

Our emergency planning did not go as planned (surprise). Our available driver didn't know where the hospital was, he doesn't understand much English, and the map to the hospitals no longer lived in the glove compartment. I came with to provide moral support and as it turned out, my beginner Kreyol. "Lopital!! Eric malad! Aack!" I did manage to explain in Kreyol that we needed directions from our more experienced driver.

Street outside entrance to Medishare

Medishare is quite a ways away from our house, but eventually we got there over many a bumpy road. The entrance is tightly hemmed in by market stalls, and the taxi in front of us let out a woman carrying a limp toddler (diagnosis: malaria). Treatment here is also free and there was no wait. Unfortunately, there was no working x-ray machine either. We ended up going later in the day to JPHRO for a symbolic scan. Symbolic because it doesn't actually change the treatment... really strong ibuprofen and time- 8 weeks to be exact. The pain meds are to prevent a lung infection from shallow, cautious breathing. Deep breaths actually cleanse your body, after all.

Lesson learned from today: Have your plans laid out for when an emergency occurs. The next key bit is what we forgot- check and update your emergency materials regularly! Directions get lost, a new driver gets hired, it's the middle of the night, if you are really ill or injured, you are in no state to think.

Lastly, thanks to all the volunteer doctors and technicians at both the JPHRO Camp Hospital and Medishare for your prompt and kind attention. Medishare provides excellent care for anyone who is carried in, even in the face of equipment shortages and failures: 1 oxygen tank, 5 carbon monoxide poisonings from a indoor coal fire? An entire family saved with a jerry-rigged 5 way splitter. You can donate with confidence and our blessing to either organization at their websites.

X-ray facility at JPHRO

JPHRO Camp Hospital

Cool, small machine to read x-rays. The stick makes it work.

Ribs are notoriously hard to read.

The Future of Dreams

2011-02-16T21:42:00.003-05:00

Is this a metaphor or something?

We drive by the Place St. Pierre, and I am surprised by the brown, compacted, desolate parts, where the people have been paid by the mayor to leave (and go where?). The occupied parts are as dense as ever, raggedly concealed from the street. Catching a glimpse through the outer barrier, I see a little open area with children and a woman, crouching down in her underclothes. It is starting to get hot again, but I wonder if she knows she can be seen, whether it even matters in the context of her situation. All these people, so tightly packed together, with crude doors that cannot be locked. Their privacy is violated on an hourly basis.

As we continue up the mountains that lead to our little castle, secure and with space for me to be alone, I speculate. When this time passes into history, will it have changed the dreams and values of these people? If so, how? There is certainly the chance that life in a camp is just too similar to the life many had before for change, full of insecurity, poor living conditions, and intermittent access to services. The number of people who live in these sorts of camps is now estimated at 800,000, down from an initial estimate (always only an estimate) of 1.5 million people.

I limit my speculation on dreams to the urban planning level, of houses and community. Will the formerly displaced worship space of their own- suburban style? Will there be a mass exodus to the country, to other countries to finally be alone? Will there be a lasting fear of others because of the few who took advantage of the vulnerabilities of the many? Or will that old dream of a concrete wall and floor and a tin roof be enough to satisfy that need. If fear becomes the new decision-maker, how will it change the urban and rural landscape of Haiti?

I really can't imagine it going the other way, a desire to live densely together, especially not vertically. Here and now, multi story buildings are equivalent to the pancaked stacks still sitting where they fell. These former buildings are still, but they scream at you every time you see them. Perhaps people will become even more acculturated to living densely on the horizontal plane, but I imagine that will be closely related to one's personal experience in the camps. Were they protected by their neighbors, or victimized? Were they forcibly evicted, with their shelter and personal possessions destroyed by police or given new houses by NGOs?

The new neighborhood

Update on Eau (Water)

2011-02-14T13:49:00.002-05:00

UPDATE Feb 14, 2011: Beatrice Lindstrom, a human rights lawyer who works with the IDP camp population has written a great article on water rights.

I'll be posting again soon.

Darkness and Light in Haiti

2011-02-03T21:33:00.001-05:00

Life here is highly regulated by natural light and darkness. I see people moving around in the darkness, walking home along the side of the road, and I think, do they have a light where they are going? Are they afraid of the dark? More than half of Port-au-Prince and 85% of all Haitians lack access to electricity. Electricity is a poorly run state-operated monopoly, Electricité d’Haïti (EdH). For reliable electricity, one must have a generator (which I learned recently cost $800 and up).

We regularly go to bed by 9:30 PM because even at our big house, the lighting is poor and the darkness gets to your brain and says, "Go to sleep." When we don't have power from the grid or a diesel-powered generator, our computers die, and we sit around brainlessly. We stay still to avoid running into things such as powerless power cords.

For the average Haitian, U.S. standards experiences of electricity are simply beyond their reach. Their tools to combat darkness are low-tech and dangerous: charcoal, candles, kerosene lanterns, sometimes battery-powered flashlights. Dangerous, but not more dangerous than going without light in a tent city. Kerosene, also used for cooking, costs up to 30 percent of a family's income.

A small step towards a better electricity supply for Port-au-Prince arrived last month with the inauguration of a new power plant in Cite Soleil which will sell electricity to the state and meet 15 percent of the capital's electricity needs. This project was jumpstarted 6 years ago by E-Power, a consortium of 54 Haitian and Haitian-Americans and took 18 months to build. The investment this power plant represents is also highly charitable considering that according to the World Bank, an estimated 35 percent of electricity in Haiti is stolen and there is an unattractively low number of paying, metered customers.

There are opportunities to harness the light that add profoundly to the quality of life. One local group taking advantage of that opportunity is ENERSA, which began producing photovoltaics and solar-powered streetlamps in 2004. "To date, ENERSA has installed more than 500 solar streetlamps, which run about 1,400 dollars each, in 60 towns. But their long-term target is 35,000 streetlamps in 500 municipalities." ENERSA is one of Fonkoze's largest clients in their Business Development program. This past year, ENERSA has been struggling to compete with the influx of donated solar power products after the earthquake.

Solar power has also been driving down costs of providing important services for the most vulnerable. Donated solar power products are what have been powering water-pumping stations in the camps of Port-au-Prince. The Solar Electric Light Fund committed to lighting all 10 Partners in Health clinics (which provide free medical care) in rural Haiti with photovoltaics by the end of last month. The downside of solar is that it requires a large upfront investment by an institution, limiting its reach into the poorest, neediest communities.

Beyond solar power, another method of creating energy independence in Haiti is through locally produced biofuels. Sirona Cares works to alleviate energy poverty in rural areas with their jatropha project, which locally produces biofuel using the oil from the seed of the native jatropha tree. Their jatropha project is designed to give rural Haitians the ability to produce, use and sell biodiesel. They have enrolled 1000 farmers so far who will grow this tree along with their normal crops. The biproduct of crushing the seed to remove the oil is called seedcake, and can be used as fertilizer or charcoal briquettes.

You can donate to the Solar Electric Light Fund or Sirona Cares at their websites. As well, if you would like to help bring a little light to the darkness, for $10-20 to donate a solar flashlight to a Haitian family in need via Light Haiti. This project endeavors to deliver 500,000 flashlights by March. I could use one of these myself, especially as I take my bucket bath in the dark (our water pump requires electricity too).

While researching for this post, I found a wonderful quote about Haiti that I think is a fitting end to this discussion.

One day I was asked by a foreign individual to describe Haiti and my response was as follow: "Haiti is a black woman sitting on a stool in a pitch-black dark room; she holds a single strike-anywhere-match in her left hand, a candle in the other hand, and a veil covers her face. She is patiently waiting for a man who is able to see in the dark to come into the room, find the match she is holding, light her candle, and remove her veil. Then, and only then, it will be revealed how beautiful she is."

Haiti 2.0 Economic Drivers for Growth

2011-02-01T09:54:00.010-05:00

Earlier this month World Vision and the Harvard Business School held a workshop on the economic growth in Haiti with Haiti's business leaders. I am happy to share the results of this workshop. Economic growth potential was discussed in the areas of foreign investment banking, import/export, tourism and sustainable employment.

Haiti 2 0 - Driving Haiti's Economic Engine in the 21st Century

The Plan for Port-au-Prince

2011-01-25T21:42:00.006-05:00

Detail of the Urban village concept

Tonight at the Hotel Montana, Andres Duany presented his firm’s plans for the redevelopment of downtown Port-au-Prince. The event was in English, and ably translated into French by Ricky of the Prince’s Foundation. The audience was almost exclusively elite Haitians, so French is not a problem for them. Duany emphasized that his job was to present possibilities for redevelopment and that all decision-making must done by others, he implied by those in the audience. He presented various scenarios for infrastructure construction, urban village, public buildings including civic, schools, and churches, green space, hotels, ecological features, and transportation network. I left after 3 hours before the end of the presentation.

Infrastructure Construction

Urban core: $175 million to create infrastructure for downtown including potable water, electrical, streets, sewers. All the streets would need to be broken. These includes the cost of making potable water from polluted well water.

Urban corridor only: $27 million

Urban village: $3.7 million

Duany promised that very detailed accounting was created in conjunction with the plans for the Ministry of Finance. Those slides were too small for us to actually see for ourselves. Later in the presentation he stated his belief that he does not think even an American city can repair its infrastructure all at once like he has in the urban core plan.

He emphasized that the infrastructure plan would be expensive but can be done.

Duany paraphrase: You cannot reconstruct unless it is seismically sound. Seismic is expensive. This project requires the amortization by the middle class and above. The reconstruction of downtown must attract the middle-class and above, including the diaspora. The diaspora require security, parking, and a predictable environment in which to invest. Security, etc requires management. Management has been planned at the level of the urban village. Urban village has a secure parking lot in the middle of each block.

Duany described the strategy of the urban village concept as, "This is not a secession from a society, it is a smaller society."

This particular statement is a thinly veiled criticism of the middle class and upper classes: They have seceded from the rest of society. Duany also said that there is a need to work collectively which is against the anarchist nature of Haitians and Haitian history.

On roundabouts: Haitian drivers could figure it out just fine. Americans are hopeless in this regard.

Public Buildings

During hurricanes, the first floor of civic buildings need to be shelters for the public. Therefore, Duany designed civic buildings with parking on the ground level. This space would be opened to the public without damage. Also in an ideal world there would be public bathrooms and public health clinics available on this floor.

Duany openly questioned how the government is going to reserve sites for the expansion of schools, concert halls, and museums. These would opposite the Presidential Palace to emphasize the importance for the advancement of education and culture.

Commercial

Duany described the Haitian people, "One of the nice things about Haitians is that they are capitalists."

Weirdest moment: During the transportation network presentation the presenter claimed all the audience needs to know about roads could be learned by watching the Kevin Costner movie, “Build It and They Will Come.” I think he meant "Field of Dreams," but the reference was still patronizing and silly.

The presentation by Andres Duany

Fast Company's take: Fast Company and I are the only ones who have published our thoughts on this meeting to date. They didn't write anything at all about the transportation plan, so they probably tuned out the same time I did!

UPDATE 02/17/11: Duany reputedly believes in a cross-section of a population to be involved in charettes. I guess he didn't mean Port-au-Prince.

Iron Market

2011-01-24T14:29:00.003-05:00

Downtown Port-au-Prince

Yesterday, I went with a posse of Architecture for Humanity volunteers to tour the Iron Market prior to it's public opening. We thought it would have been open by now, since it was commemorated on the anniversary of the earthquake by Bill Clinton himself, but there was still painting equipment here and there. It took us a few false starts before we were able to find the well-disguised entrance in between two booths. We had to wait until the Prince's Foundation and the Duany Plater-Zyberk planning firm joined us to begin the tour.

The Iron Market is an important cultural institution in Port-au-Prince and was built in the 1890s. Once it opens, the vast space will be filled once again with the sights, sounds and smells of 900 vendors.

The Iron Market was one of the limited sources of positive news at the 1 year anniversary of the earthquake. Digicel owner Denis O'Brien spared no expense for its complete reconstruction after being heavily damaged by fires and the earthquake. It is the first public building to have been restored since the earthquake. However, we must wait for its use by the public for it to become a true symbol of community rebuilding.

On a way here, we stopped by all the most symbolic victims of the earthquake, the great Cathedral and the Presidential Palace. To be honest, I could not bear to take a picture of the Presidential Palace. To stop there and stare, a disaster tourist sitting up in our shiny white truck in front of a tent camp was very uncomfortable. In Petionville, our privilege is much easier to bear.

Interior stalls of Market

Outside the Market

Originally made in Paris for a Cairo train station, the Iron Market somehow ended up in Haiti.

Stalls crowd around the gated Iron Market.

The center section was the only part that withstood the earthquake. The minarets were originally intended for the Egyptian market.

Underneath the center section. Behind the Market is a tent community and a deconstruction project.

Spiral staircase up into the minarets.

ADZ planner looking into the original side of the Iron Market. The other side was made from scratch since it was completely destroyed, so it uses more modern materials like steel I-beams.

Looking over the inhabitants behind the Iron Market.

The roof has solar panels. Compared to the usual state of structures in Haiti, this unassuming roof is quite beautiful.

View over the existing street market from the center section of the Iron Market. They sell all sorts of things here, including boxes of champagne.

The ruins of the Port-au-Prince Cathedral

Baby Doc

2011-01-17T11:32:00.004-05:00

Baby Doc Duvalier's arrival in Haiti yesterday after nearly 25 years of exile has shaken everybody up. We all have so many questions, perhaps some of them will be answered by Duvalier's press conference that is supposed to be today at the Hotel Karibe. UPDATE: Press conference was cancelled for nonsensical reasons. The three big questions:

Why is he here?

Who let him come?

Will he be arrested?

The timing cannot be ignored, why now? This event would clearly distract away from the candidate runoff selection, which Preval and his committee have been holding up. Duvalier arrived with an expired passport. Who in France dropped this ball by letting him on a plane? His fiancée said in a short statement yesterday that Duvalier was here to "help" Haiti. If only he could go back in time and not steal all the money from the country's coffers. He is now a very rich man since Swiss banks unfroze his accounts last year.

Some of the less likely reasons why people think he is here include (1) He's dying and wants to die on Haitian soil and (2) He wants to be president. The only theory I've heard that makes sense is that Preval wants his presence to distract everyone so he can remain President.

Say this theory is true, why would Duvalier agree to be Preval's pawn? Perhaps Duvalier wants people to remember life as being better when he was ruling the country compared to the current state of affairs. Most Haitians cannot remember as over half were not living in 1986. The median age in Haiti is 20.2 years. Education is not accessible for most Haitians, so national history has been passed down not through established record, but by family members. Those who prospered under Duvalier do not fear him. Those that disagreed with him or his father perished by the thousands.

I don't feel any good can come from this.

Update via Twitter: Even Duvalier's spokesperson has not been told why he is in Haiti. That doesn't sound promising...

Fonkoze

2011-01-14T15:59:00.003-05:00

I'm sorry it took so long to get my last post out, I am just about to turn in my 4th (and nearly final) graduate application! As well, I have been furiously reading up on the work of Fonkoze, where I start next week.

Fonkoze is Haiti's Alternative Bank for the Organized Poor. They provide financial and social services to Haitian businesswomen, using a system they call Staircase Out of Poverty. It begins with training and counseling to the ultrapoor, then short-term and long-term group small loans, and graduate to individual loans with no limit. These women are creating jobs for other women in rural areas and become part of the formalized economy. Fonkoze also offers micro-insurance, savings accounts, direct deposit for the diaspora, currency exchange, and education programs.

Like I mentioned in a previous post, Haiti's population is mostly illiterate, so their education component is critical to their client's success. "Basic literacy is a cornerstone to democracy, self-esteem, sound business management and human development."

I will be helping to make sure Fonkoze meets its mission and goals for its clients.

Fonkoze’s mission is to build a sustainable microfinance institution to:

provide Haiti's poor with the financial and educational tools they need to make their way out of poverty
eliminate the kind of poverty that leaves people without hope, motivation and courage
reverse the decline in Haiti's economy by empowering and motivating families to engage in sustainable economic development

In line with our mission, Fonkoze makes six commitments to every client that enters the program. If the client fulfills her responsibilities—meeting attendance, timely loan repayment, solidarity with her group—Fonkoze commits that within five years the client will:

Have food on her table everyday
Have a tin roof, a cement floor, and a sanitary latrine
Be able to send all of her school-aged children to school
Know how to read and write her name
See her business assets accumulating
Have the confidence to face her future, no matter what it holds

I hope to travel to some of Fonkoze's many rural branches, and to learn Kreyol, the language of business at Fonkoze. 90 percent of Fonkoze's employees are Haitian, so I will have the full immersion experience. I know one phrase that I want to use...

M' vle se itil.

I want to be useful.

I am about to meet my boss for the first time (even though I live here now, it was easier to interview over the phone), so I will sign off and update on what I will be doing at Fonkoze some time next week. Although I will be working or on my way to work from 6 AM to 5 PM, I plan to continue my usual posts on the challenges of rebuilding in Haiti.

2009 Fonkoze Annual Report

The Importance of Property Rights

2011-01-14T11:15:00.004-05:00

I believe explicit property rights are essential to the recovery of Haiti. One of the challenges organizations involved in rebuilding (like Architecture for Humanity) is simply ascertaining ownership of land. Gregg MacDonald, the lead coordinator for the UN Shelter cluster, has identified a lack of clear land title as one of primary delays in producing shelter for the internally displaced. In Port-au-Prince, there is little to no legally available land. The vast majority of open land around the city is owned by a few elite families who demand compensation. For individual properties, owners are unable to be located and proof of ownership is nonexistent.

Private property is essentially a social contract made among neighbors to benefit the community as a whole. When no one owns or depends on the future value of land, the usual result is overuse and degradation. This phenomenon is known as the "tragedy of the commons." The other extreme is when ownership is fragmented and no one has the power to coordinate land uses in the public interest. Both of these conditions exist in Haiti.

Haiti rates extremely low in its property rights index, a measure of "the degree to which a country's laws protect private property rights, and the degree to which its government enforces those laws." Haiti scores the same as Cuba, a country where property cannot be bought or sold amongst its people. That score is 10 out of 100. "The index also assesses the likelihood that private property will be expropriated and analyzes the independence of the judiciary, the existence of corruption within the judiciary, and the ability of individuals and businesses to enforce contracts."

Gaining legal ownership recognized by the government is extremely complex, and most Haitians operate on a more informal, paperless system. How surprising is this when over half of Haitians are illiterate? In addition, less than 5% of all Haitians are fluent in French, the official language of the country. The odds are incredible that the average Haitian could gain legal rights to property, even one that they have lived and worked on for decades. Hernando de Soto, a Peruvian economist, measured the length of time it took to gain legally recognized property rights in several countries, including Haiti. Purchasing "legally recognized title to property in Haiti takes over 11 years and 111 bureaucratic steps involving 32 separate offices and countless forms to be filed." To lease a property for 5 years takes 65 steps and 2 years. According to a 1997 diagnosis by the Institute for Liberty and Justice, 82 percent of Haitians own their properties extralegally, that is not governed by law.

Eric Freyfogle sums up the benefits of property rights as the following: "Private property promotes economic enterprise; it fosters privacy and personal development; and it provides stability for communities and states." Haiti's inability to protect property rights will continue to severely compromise efforts to rebuild. Incentives to improve property are low because property is not protected like it is in the United States. The vast majority of Haitians have no guarantee that they can sell their land, use their land as collateral for a loan, or protect it from being taken away from them. Land's value is exclusively of the present.

This post was heavily influenced by the 2007 book, On Property Rights: Finding Common Ground on the Ownership of Land by Eric Freyfogle.

February 28 UPDATE: For more about land issues in international aid, see this great blog post from Tales From the Hood.

Haiti-Dominican Republic Border

2011-01-06T10:52:00.001-05:00

Over the winter break, I took the popular Caribe bus from Port-au-Prince to Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic. The route illustrates much of the complexity of Haiti, its relation to its neighbor, and what it could have, should have been.

The bus experience itself is relatively pleasant, with comfortable seats, an early lunch, and an onboard toilet with paper. It can be a little dirty, with food particles moldering in window crevices, but the views from the second-story level seats are unique to the usual modes of travel in Haiti. Caribe confiscates your passport before you board and handles the border crossing stamps for you, eventually returning it to you someway between the border and your final destination. They don't tell you this before hand, so it's quite nerve-wracking the first few times. Unfortunately, now my Haiti tourist card says I'm a male Dominican. I can only hope there is a similar lack of attention to detail when I leave the country.

While I don't have extensive experience crossing country borders, I imagine the southern crossing between Haiti and the DR to be one of the most ineffectual and depressing. There is a whole economy staffed by dusty, poorly dressed children at this border, composed of shoe cleaning, beverage hawking, and the selling of phone cards, sunglasses, and perfectly pressed, plastic-wrapped men's shirts. As well, there are children or amputees holding out their hand to you, attempting to make eye contact and mumbling in petulant tones. It's really unpleasant to pretend to ignore them and then not yell at them, "Stop making me feel like a jerk!" Then of course you feel guilty because you suspect they are not pretending to be poor or hungry or homeless. I haven't seen anyone give them money for doing nothing, but I imagine if one did, you would suddenly be besieged by the whole crowd of sadness. It is easier to say no to all than attempt to make value judgments. All in all, a painful experience.

The shoe-shiners tote around an old paint or coffee can and a crude toolbox with reused soda bottles filled with black stuff, white stuff, and red ocher stuff, as well as rags. They use the can as a seat when they clean or shine people's shoes. If you wear leather shoes, you can scarcely avoid their attention, but they will also insist they can clean mesh sneakers too.

All the while, both sides go through the bureaucratic motions of national security. For once, I can say the Haitian version was better, though still bewildering. Everyone filed out of the bus and slowly realized there was a line snaking into the only nearby building. Seemingly random people are offering to change money, with their calling card a big wad of cash. On both sides you wait in this queue until you get to the little window, hand them whatever you think they might want, sometimes they keep it, sometimes they don't, and then you get back on the bus, get off the bus and join another line. Later you realize this line was to inspect your luggage, but the inspection was so cursory and the method so unofficial and the smell of urine inside the building so distracting that you didn't realize it. The smell of urine was on the Dominican side, along with disturbing puddles of liquid, largest of course right at the little window. Sometimes there would be a funny juxtaposition of people leaning over this puddle to hand over their papers with the Haitian rules of queuing. In Haiti, a person is not in line unless they are physically touching the person in front of them, sometimes with what seems like their entire body. If they were to let a space exist of a foot or so, someone would promptly take the invitation to cut them in line!

The further you get into the Dominican Republic, the villages appear less poor, the countryside green, and the mountains forested. The further away from Haiti you go, the more you realize that Haiti lives as if there will be no tomorrow. Plastic bottles and Styrofoam take out containers clog and ferment in every body of water, colored milky by runoff from the degraded landscape. A few miles is all it takes to see that it could be different.

Barren Haitian side of the border

The road to the border

At the Dominican Republic border crossing, the old buildings were underwater.

Dominican town shortly after crossing border

State of the border road on the way back.
I had a great view from the very front of the bus, but the glare made all my pictures terrible.

One Month Later

2010-12-18T15:35:00.001-05:00

I have officially passed the one month mark since I moved to Port-au-Prince, Haiti. I celebrated Thanksgiving and was on lockdown due to political violence for over a week with 1 Spaniard, 1 Italian, 2 Scottish, 4 Irish, and nearly a dozen American architects. I have been unable to do any interviews with anyone here in Haiti, one thing among many that has not gone according to plan. However, I have met journalists, artists, and many other aid workers in fields such as family reunification, cholera treatment and prevention, women's safety, agriculture and poultry industry revitalization, as well as temporary housing and schools. The work is slowly becoming less chaotic, but it is rare to be able to say, "I solved that problem once and for all."

The house has quickly emptied out over the past week for the holidays, many volunteers going home for the first time in 3 months. We've discussed amongst ourselves what we will enjoy most about going home or going elsewhere for the holidays, and the number one topic? Being able to stroll in the street, casually, without looking over one's shoulder. Other notables: taking a hot shower, drinking tap water, and being able to machine wash clothes. Not to mention, privacy!

Of course, there will be plenty to miss, including a highly unconventional office where everyone comes home with you at the end of the workday (despite that, you manage to stay friends). I consider myself lucky to be coming back in January, when I will finally be an old hand in comparison to the fresh crop of volunteers. As well, I will be beginning job interviews and hope to have exciting news to report soon on that front.

I will be in Cuba this holiday season, with limited access to internet, so please check back in 2011! Bon Voyage...

Trash

2010-12-15T17:12:00.006-05:00

Out of sight, out of mind...

A city run by trash. A city overrun by trash. That's the difference between Kristianstad and Port-au-Prince. The city of Kristianstad was recently profiled in the New York Times for its comprehensive approach to trash management, particularly for using its waste supply to produce biogas, used to fuel cars and warm homes. This centralized system was made possible by significant investment- $144 million- and high levels of political will and coordination. It all seems like quite a pipe dream from here in Port-au-Prince, where there is not even municipal or private trash service for the wealthy.

The picture above shows where our trash goes... over the wall into a neighboring vacant lot, happily populated by goats and roosters. And believe me, this is an improvement from when it used to just land in the back yard. Our house staff also burns some trash in an oil drum, but how they choose what they burn and what they toss is beyond my grasp. I'll update this post when I learn more. Trash burning produces white smoke and probably plenty of dioxins. It's the de-facto method of waste management here. Trash was also the fuel of election protests this past week, lighting up the street corners of Petionville and used to blockade the roads.

You may also have seen photographs in the news of people wading in rivers of it. When I first arrived here, I was shocked every time we passed a vantage point into a vast ravine: full of trash, dead automobiles, and people! So many people living in close quarters to things they used last week or last month. An extremely foreign concept to someone from the United States, where trash is "taken care of."

Of course, the United States doesn't effectively deal with its trash either. It just buries it, dumps it, and tries to make it less visible. Recycling is for middle-class moms and homeless people with shopping carts. Composting is for hippies. Non-consumption is for anarchists. We have the luxury of not thinking about our trash because we have functioning municipal governments, taxes to fund those municipal services, and sufficient land to dump it on.

India has a more realistic model for Haiti. In fact, back in 2008, India was helping Haiti in developing a community-based waste management system in Carrefour. Residents were paid to collect trash, to sort it, and then to recycle the paper waste stream into fuel briquettes, which were then sold at market. I would be interested to know what has become of this program and its plans for expansion. PRI aired an update back in May stating that the program was not yet self-sufficient and is currently being funded by the UN.

The slums of India, particularly Mumbai, are known for the million or so 'rag-pickers' that pick through tons of trash to sell anything of value. Groups like Conserve India are now working with this essential population to add more value to their work by upcycling products. You can buy a Haiti bracelet or two along the same line of thought, though I sincerely doubt they are making much of a dent in the vast amount strewn around this country.

Slightly reminiscent of Kristianstad, Vivo Rio, a Brazilian organization, is installing public toilets in Port-au-Prince that will harness the power of human poop to produce electricity. Personally, I think it's a better use for that type of waste than the term thrown around in our house, "humanure." Maybe we can take baby steps and first create a trench in our yard to compost our biodegradable waste. We certainly have enough hippies in the house to make it happen.

Beyond the piecemeal solutions, well, we need a functioning government with a clear message. Until then, Haiti's trash will continue to generate only more lively descriptive fodder for journalists setting the scene.

Rainy Day in Haiti

2010-12-13T19:28:00.000-05:00

Security guards in the parking lot of Giant Supermarket, 5 PM on December 13.

Good news is hard work.

2010-12-09T11:16:00.002-05:00

At the house earlier today, we were talking about how American news focuses on the negative and the sensational... earthquake, hurricane, cholera, election violence!! There is not a lot of positive energy being sent out about Haiti. There are not a lot of pictures of well-dressed Haitians walking to work or of mothers and fathers who walk their children to school every day (will post myself soon). Among a small group of us, we decided to tweet and facebook message only good news. For instance, today Chance, our guard puppy was finally able to return from the vet after being stranded there for a few days following her spaying.

Anyways, before I make good on my pledge to be positive, I will explain some of the regular challenges about living, never mind trying to get something done in Haiti. There are a lot of basic needs that can make life here frustrating or unpleasant. The big 3 are water (see previous post), transportation, and information.

Access to Transportation: Expats need a car to get around here. It's not as simple as just picking one up at the airport. A driver is necessary, too- preferably local- because neither road conditions, driving culture, or navigation are easy here. The U.S. Embassy advises all drivers to frequently change their routes. When I was here in May, we took this very seriously and ended up being stuck in the car for hours as we kept trying roads that were impassable with rubble. There are few road signs, no stop signs, and one traffic light. You must behave recklessly to avoid being stuck at a busy intersection. Port-au-Prince is a city of mountains and valleys, so all the roads twist and turn. Protesters have made roadblocks out of dumpsters,port-a-pots, and rubble. Very symbolic, but damn inconvenient. All businesses are closed, including the airport.

Prior to the riots

Even on good days, there are multi-million dollar NGOs that are without reliable transportation for their staff. Here we have 2 SUVs for 18-20 people who go to the office, and house-staff that need to be able to get supplies on a near daily basis. Our drivers make multiple trips and are usually on call all day long. They are one of the most valuable members of our team and are paid well for that reason. Mother Jones reporter Mac McClellan reported paying $350 a day for a car and driver.

Overlooking Petionville, easiest to comprehend area of PAP.

Access to Information: Maps are arguably the most important documents being produced in this country. With little record of pre-disaster conditions and with the embedded knowledge of the local population scattered into camps and graves, every building and planning project begins with Google Earth and rough visual assessment. High-value information has been difficult to locate for every sector of the recovery. The Humanitarian Practice Network has an excellent article on the challenges of gathering reliable data for basic needs assessments. This article also confirmed the rumors that Haitians tend to get their news from... rumors. The radio stations have only recently begun broadcasting in Haitian Creole instead of just French (which less educated Haitians do not speak). The high-tech version of rumor is Twitter. You can follow me there to stay in the know @howigetmynews. It's no lie.

Run down Kenscoff

2010-12-08T09:00:00.000-05:00