LA ROUTE
The sole road to Port-au-Prince from Jacmel is full of wonders. Called Route de L’amitié (Friendship Road), starting in downtown Jacmel on the country’s southeast shore, climbing the rough mountain range known as the Massif de la Selle over its summit then descending into the valley of the capital city along its quake-devastated western shore. At first L’amitié hugs the banks of Rivière de la Cosse as it empties into Jacmel Bay. Overlooking the expansive riverbed it’s not hard to imagine that a raging torrent once flowed there – now reduced to a fraction of its former volume – a creek more than a river – it consists of numerous veins circulating in and around sand dunes and rock deposits and with a steady flow of vehicular and animal traffic weaving through garbage fires and people bathing. No one knows why the river is drying up. Eventually L’amitié crosses two bridges when Rivière de la Cosse forks with Rivière Grosseline. It then leaves the rivers behind and assumes its identity as a mountain road – snaking where least resistance allows it, around gaping pot holes, deep ditches, sharp curves and up impossible grades. No straight sections, tunnels or guardrails can be relied on and sometimes a deviation returns towards itself for no apparent reason. Last week a crowded Tap Tap failed to negotiate a curve and plummeted down a slope killing all its passengers including four American tourists and about twelve Haitians (“about” because the American news report didn’t mention the number of local lives lost in the accident). Ironically, Tap Taps are usually elaborately painted and lettered with religious slogans like “L’éternel, Grace de Dieu” or “Merçi Jesus” – darkly fitting words to accompany the victims as they were delivered to kingdom come on the mountainside.
L’amitié passes through communities on the steep slopes such as, Chabin, Batonelle and Beloc where, on market days, crowds with animals and hawkers with goods swarm the Tap Taps, motos, heavy trucks and buses trying to pass through causing them to part the waves one inch at a time. When the summit is reached one can gaze out across the top of the mountain range and behold another wonder: the mountains are bald – clear-cut as far as the eye can see. Such is the national dilemma – they cut down trees and burn them to make charcoal for fuel – without trees the topsoil runoff creates the ancillary problem of landslides and further on the lack of fertile pockets to farm, grow and feed. On the other side of the summit, a diminutive village unmentioned on maps holds another wonder: half hidden in the palms (yes there are still some trees left) in well appointed ledges and clearings are prefab houses – bright, clean, modern, architectural ideas that seem perfectly suited to the terrain and plight of the Haitian people. I remember seeing a young mother stepping out her shiny front door looking for her six-year old playing nearby. The mother had a proud smile and so did the child. Why don’t these houses have wider distribution? Are they just an experiment? Surley the Haitians are tired of being experimented with. Continuing down the lee side of the mountain the wide plain that touches the sea opens up to view – and arriving there L’amitié relays its tour of duty to the Route Nationale which in turn gives up its own wonders along the troubled west coast. The population becomes more dense as the city limits approach and vast tent cities dominate the landscape. It’s been three years since the quake and the hundreds upon hundreds of temporary shelters have become permanent domiciles – with all the poverty, sewage and crime that goes along with it. One look at this grey society begs the question: why can’t the prefab houses of the mountain village replace these tattered three-year old tents? and where did all the billions of dollars in aid go if it didn’t go to these people? In close proximity to each settlement is a sprawling acres-wide wasteland where burning garbage smoulders and its thick toxic odours hang in the air. Gazing upon this spectacle gives the impression that hope is a long way off.
