Haiti: Screwing on the Roof

The major push this week is to complete the first duplex (of 63 planned.) Fuller Organization dignitaries are coming Friday, and “it would be good” if they saw a finished house so they could be part of the dedication and key ceremony (complete, no doubt, with photos....of them.)

First essential item of business: putting the roof on. The materials arrived yesterday, as planned. Safely put away. First thing this morning, we muled them down to the site—about 200 yards from the storage unit. Up goes the designated roofing assistant (me), poised with battery-powered drill for screwing in the corrugated roofing sheets. Roofing master (boss Fritzner) is there. We look around.....no screws. (For reasons I don't know, we're screwing the sheets rather than nailing them to the trusses. Can't figure whether this is a Fuller thing, or what, but it is “VERY IMPORTAN T”.)

Phone call made to someplace. Then to another. Then to another. Looking for screws. Finally, apparently find a place. Off goes the truck. Some time later, another call....no screws there. More phone calls (thank goodness for working cell phone service!), finally locate the screws. “About 1 ½ hours and they'll be back.” Turns out that's Haitian time---truck finally returns....about 1:30. But with a big box of screws!

Up goes the master and his assistant, and in our remaining time, we were able to roof ¼ of the duplex. Mule the materials back to the storage unit. Still, looks promising for finishing roofing tomorrow...if we are able to recharge the batteries of the drill, of course.

Each unit of each duplex is one room, 10X20, with a front and back door, and a small porch in front and back. I'm told Haitians only are inside to sleep. Still, one room, the size of a 1-car garage, seems a bit limited. Still, with a solid roof (I think), solid walls, a poured floor, and windows and doors, it's a huge step up from living for the past year (at least) in a tent.

Much discussion pre-trip about mosquito netting—did we want it, did we need it, etc. My fear of being smothered by falling mosquito netting while sleeping far outweighs my responsiveness to mosquito bites, so I am a definite “no” on that subject. Two of my roommates, however, put up very nice mosquito nets. So nice, I think all mosquitoes simply looked at it and figured “nothing here.” Have only seen one mosquito in my room so far—floating, dead, in my water glass.

Room is quite spacious—easily enough for the five beds and a couple of dressers. One plain light bulb, one outlet. Screened window looking out on Grace Village and beyond, the sea. Temperature in the room ranges from 82 at sunrise to 87 when we get back from the job site. At night, there's a constant layer of moisture while lying in bed.

Have caught a few glimpses of PAP as we go to/from the job site. It's a city of perhaps 2 million (or was), laid out pretty much along the sea coast. From a distance, the sea and sea coast look very pleasant—your typical Caribbean look. I'm told that up close, you'd see the sea was pretty well filled with garbage for perhaps 100 yards out.

Busy streets, filled with little stalls, people selling all manner of things, double-decker buses going past absolutely filled to the brim with people. Driving by horn is the norm as well. Hard to think of this place as a functioning city in any sense of that term. Don't know that it was before the earthquake, either.

After dinner, our first(!) excursion out of our compound, other than to the job site daily. Headed for the Auberge du Quebec, an up(per) scale hotel where many representatives of NGO's stay. Target destination: the bar. Down main streets, lined with street vendors, all vending by candlelight or lanterns. Many people strolling. Nice feel—an urban scene on a pleasant night. Turn off the main streets, on streets that are barely paved. Perhaps because of the earthquake, perhaps they never were. Evidence of rubble around indicating unfixed damage. Up a mountainside, arrive at the hotel. Looking for the bar (nicely situated around the swimming pool). After some discussion, allowed to sit in the poolside bar (which had already closed for the day) “if you don't put your feet in the pool.” We agreed (though I offered the idea that I'd put everything but my feet in the pool).

I've always looked with mild disdain at the rum & Coke option. Sort of for sorority girls, not for real guys. But was told that here, it was lots of rum, little Coke. So ordered. Sure enough, rum on ice in one glass, a bottle of Coke separate. Mix to your own preferences. A second order of rum (without the Coke—had plenty left) with a slight additional bit of Coke. Even nicer.

Slight buzz of two rums, a bit of Coke, headed back to the hotel, contemplating a pleasant night's sleep. Arrive to find the village unusually quiet—the quietest of the three nights we've been here. Peaceful sleep awaits.