My day starts around 6 am, when the water comes on for an hour. While it’s a bit early for a cool shower then, I might wash out some clothes and hang them up for the day. Even though Maude will wash and iron our clothes within a day or two, mine dry so quickly that I prefer to do them myself so that I can wear them again right away. One of the guys staying in Alumni House said that Maude got a stain out of a shirt that had been there for about 3 years, but Rose told me that there are only so many Haitian scrubbings that fragile clothes can endure!
Breakfast is served at 6:30 in the Alumni House next door, with the other guests staying there. We have been served some yummy egg dishes, freshly baked white bread, and occasional dry cereal. The peanut butter is a bit granular, a little sweet, and delicious. There is “confiture,” a kind of jam that is so sweet that you can’t tell if it’s guava or grapefruit, even thought the label identifies it as one or the other. There is often a bowl of watermelon and papaya, and perhaps pineapple, and coffee, powdered milk, fresh juice, and filtered water. Friday seems to be pancake day. They are a little chewy, but really good with peanut butter and confiture. Sometimes I eat my own instant oatmeal to cut back on the refined carbs.
After breakfast, I have time to go to the library to get online, or back to my room to read or review, before heading to the clinic a little before 9 am. The walk is about 5 minutes, on a typically rocky, uneven Haitian road. If Haiti’s problems can be represented by "Mountains Beyond Mountains," their roads and paths can be described as “rocks beyond rocks.”
We see patients until about 12:30, when we return to Alumni house for lunch. There is always the bread and peanut butter, but usually there’s something hot, as well. My favorite lunch is rice with a brown bean sauce, which happens to be the Haitian national dish. Some dishes are spicier than others, but most are tolerable for me. There is usually fruit again for lunch, and sometimes a plate of iceberg lettuce and sliced tomatoes and carrots. On a few occasions there has been a delicious dense yellow cake for dessert.
The water is on again from 12 to 1 pm, but I’m usually not at the house during that time. In the shower is a big barrel for collecting water while it’s on to use while it’s off. I think that the incoming water is chlorinated, but it’s not potable, so we filter the water before we drink it. The bucket in the barrel is handy for pouring over your head to cool off, or for taking a “bucket shower”, and all you have to do to flush the toilet is to pour a gallon or two of water into the bowl, and down it goes. Who knew?
I usually take a half-hour nap after lunch, because the heat, while not unbearable, does wear you out. We see patients again from 2 to 4 or so, when a man on a motorcycle comes to transport the patients back over to the group home across campus for the night.
After work, my first stop is usually the swimming pool. It feels great to jump in and cool off. After that, it’s lovely to sit in my room where I'm finally the right temperature.
I take my cool shower in the evening before dinner, when the water is on once again between 6 and 7 pm. The electricity goes off for a few minutes in the morning and evening as the diesel generators are switched to a fresh supply of fuel, but the brief blackout is no surprise.
At 6:30 I head to dinner with my new friends at Alumni House. This week, Jake and I have gotten to know Dr. Bob Love and his wife Rose, a nurse, both of whom are working in the cholera ward. There are 3 graduate students from Tulane working on global health (Adam) and mosquito/malaria studies (Mark), and Mark’s brother Eric is a premed student along for the adventure.
Last week there was a photographer and journalist from a big magazine in Switzerland doing a story on the Swiss Man of the Year, Rolf Maibach, who was honored for his many years of work at HAS. We also had an internist, a pediatrician and his girlfriend who is a nurse, and a gastroenterologist here to teach the Haitian doctors how to do endoscopies.
There is a tennis court nearby, and very accomplished local players have matches some afternoons, complete with umpire, line judges, and cheering crowds. It’s fun to stop by and watch, or just listen to the thwop of tennis balls and cheers of the crowd from my room.
Dinners are usually some kind of soup or stew, usually made with chicken or goat, along with potatoes and carrots in a flavorful broth. Dismayed when I found a weird bone, I decided to minimize my meat intake, as there is plenty to eat without it. There are mounds of mashed potatoes or piles of rice, or spaghetti with a red sauce with some carrots or peas or tomatoes and perhaps a little meat. We’ve had a dense pizza and an equally dense quiche, both different from what we’re used to, but still quite tasty. Overall, the food is voluminous and starchy. It would be unseemly to gain weight in Haiti, but it would not be hard to do here at Alumni House.
After dinner, I usually check the internet back in the air conditioned library, one of the few air conditioned rooms far and wide. Then I retire to my room to read or write before bed.
I’ve become accustomed to my little routes and routines. I’ve learned to recognize some faces of the security staff that I see often. I enjoy the familiarity and coziness of my bed with its net canopy, and my little fan and little lantern and my books on Haiti.
The late afternoon and early evening is my favorite time of the day. I’ve accomplished some work, gotten hot and tired, cooled off, and rested under my canopy undulating in the breeze. I have time to write, read, and listen to the sounds of the evening. There are cawing birds, hooting owls, and roosters that crow at all hours. There are goats bleating and dogs barking, romping through dried leaves the size of dinner plates outside my window. I hear the occasional sounds of motorbikes, and voices of people passing by. There are often drums from voodoo ceremonies in the distance, and the sounds of singing in a nearby church on the Corridor. In a house nearby, someone practices the trombone, with scales and études and doleful melodies drifting over the gathering dusk.
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