Jérémie

Our trip to Jérémie was planned by the sisters.  Their orphanage in the far reaches of this western district is arguably their most austere and remote location.  The orphanage houses 32 children - all girls - between the ages of 4 and 15.  Most are 4,5 and 6 years-old.  I hadn't been to Jérémie before although I had visited Cayes and Cavaillon - close by - in the west of Haiti.  There are two schools and another orphanage and these had received toys and clothes in previous visits from the UK.

The road to Jérémie is steep, rugged and broken, dangerous in parts and slow.  There are huge diggers and excavators on the highest reaches preparing a new road as part of Haiti's redevelopment.  Perhaps funded by the worldwide response to the earthquake.  We had three days in this part of Haiti.  

Jérémie is cut off from the rest of the country and can only be accessed by these mountain roads from Cavaillon just to the east, and the steep hills to the south.  They are difficult and treacherous in parts to pass but they provide the most stunning views of this fantastic country.  Multiple hills coloured with deep blues and purples as they recede away as far as the eye can see.  Deep caverns and gorges thick with rich tropical trees and bush.  The views were like fantasy; the depths and great sweeping valleys were like nothing I'd seen before.  Scenes that leave you feeling so insignificant.  God's country, God's blessing: God's creation.

The centre of Jérémie is dusty, tired and neglected.  I could see instantly Haiti's former ' glory' in the bleached woodwork. Jaded pastel colours and type - hand scripted logos and names.  The architecture is ornate.  Wooden and concrete balustrades and columns festoon almost all the shop and house entrances.  They are worn and weathered.  And have long-needed renewal and modernisation but the town's economy and meagre resources have prevented its upkeep and development.  Gentrification is absent here and everywhere.  There are few cars.  Gardener's trikes are the standard means for communal and cheap public transport.  And mopeds for personal and more comfortable hire.  As for most of Haiti, the people here live hand to mouth and know little else.  They live in the dirt.  And their houses are makeshift and rickety.  The earthquake didn't shake the ground here but refugees did make it as far as Jérémie, where the sick and injured did receive help and aid.  A big relief ship came here.  On the way into town there are four impressive, US army bridges meant, I'm sure, as a temporary measures.  They still stand after 4-5 years.  They are crucial for access.  Other bridges are being built.  Work is slow and, thankfully, professional and fit to withstand the strong winds and rain that leashes Haiti every season. The wide, almost empty, river beds are a meeting place for many who come to wash and dry clothes and collect drinking water.  Large and colourful pieces of fabric are spread-eagled across the ground, on rocks, gravel, drying in minutes in the relentless daytime heat and sunlight.
Our accommodation was basic at the orphanage.  But as ever, the sisters there - two of them - were tireless in their own work and their efforts to feed us and make us comfortable.  There was no running water in the house, and it was supplied in large buckets by young workers carrying them from the well.  One for the loo and one for washing.  You soon get accustomed to the routine and cold water is the least of the problems.  The bugs are noisy at night - sometimes close to the bed - and rapid on their feet just as you step into the shower area.

Seeing the authentic buildings, shop fronts and homes of this particular part of Haiti; experiencing this separate and different coastal locality completes my picture of Haiti somehow.  I love them for their profound simplicity and aptitude.  Their competence and endurance is striking, and I admire them for making a success of living harmoniously and happily despite the many things they lack.