"We move at 9." came the "order". Well, not an order, exactly. More an announcement. "AM?" I asked. "No, PM." "Pou ki sa?" [Why?] This is how the Sunday afternoon began, as we started stuffing clothes into bags, especially the large duffle-bag I had bought for my move to Haiti. We were moving yet once again, and hopefully for the last time to a new apartment in Downtown Petionville. Apart from some security issues, the old apartment, though very beautiful, even palatial, was a good distance away from much of anything. The new apartment was within walking distance of most places in Petionville - and earshot distance from a club playing Haitian and Caribbean music from about 6pm until after midnight. I love it!
Apparently Haitians prefer to move at night because then other people can't see what they have. And they don't usually use a moving truck when they move from one place to another. Instead they hire a large (or barely large enough) Tap-Tap. A Tap-Tap is a converted pick-up truck with a metal roof on the back, usually painted in bright colors and with some plea to the Divine written in spray-paint style across the paintable surfaces. (you can see a smaller version of the tap-tap we used in the Article on Leogane).
Before the truck arrived, we had most of the clothes in bags, the kitchen items were piled in what ever large containers we could find, and everything else was in distressingly unorganized piles around the main room. I'm used to getting boxes and packing things in a somewhat orderly way, but that wasn't going to happen here.
Fortunately, in addition to the driver and someone he brought, about 6 of our friends showed up and started loading things into the Tap-Tap. All the time, as I brought containers of things down to the truck, I was wondering how the living room furniture (second-hand [at least] over stuffed chairs and a simple coffee table) was going to fit. But slowly it was all stuffed into the back of the Tap-Tap. (The description of crowding in a Tap-Tap is "How many people can you fit in a Tap-Tap? Just one more.")
But then there were the Queen-size mattress sets. Where would they fit? Tied to the roof with the last of the furniture pieces tied on top of that.
And did I mention the goat?
One of my housemates is a Voodou priest and has been keeping a goat in the back for some ceremony he is planning in the future. So, the goat was the last "thing" loaded into the back before they drove off. I followed on my new motor-scooter with a friend riding behind me holding two ceramic vases about 2 feet high each. As we gently worked our way down the "dry riverbed" that was the road down to Rue Meyotte that took us to Petionville, I noticed a book bag that had fallen off the truck. So I stopped to pick it up and place it between my feet on the scooter. I was amazed that that was all that fell of on out journey.
Picture (because it was too dark to photograph) a large pick-up, top heavy with mattresses and a chair working its way along roads with over-hanging branches and an occasional banner stretched across the road. There were several guys either on top with the mattresses or hanging on the back. It was a sight! And maybe another reason why we did this at night.
And all this for $50. Granted, we had a lot of volunteer help, and the driver and his assistant drank almost a whole bottle of rum as we loaded. He first saw the bottle, and filled a glass, then later asked for more, finally I just handed over the bottle.
We were in by about 11pm. In, but not sorted out. That took the major part of the next day.
Even though the apartment isn't as nice as the prior one, I am happier. It is a pretty new house with a good wall and sliding door protecting the front, and running water. And the neighborhood is more what I had hoped for. Several other houses fairly close so there is developing a bit of a sense of community and connectedness. (You can read more in the previous post.) And there is the music, which I am hearing through the window as I type this. And I can climb the metal stairs to the roof and sit under the stars and hear the neighbors, the music, several church choirs singing from different directions, and the street sounds. But, during the day, machann (Merchants) singing out their chant about what ever they are selling.
And up the street is "Vivian's" - a kind of hole-in-the-wall shop that spills out onto the street corner. Vivian and her daughters make great Creole Chicken or beef, the fried plantain and sometimes spaghetti (!). This is done over charcoal fires that glow deep red in the night. We sit on the side street, under the branches of a large tree as the moon seems caught in the etching of branches. She doesn't sell Prestige, my favorite (and only) Haitian beer. So one of her daughters takes some money and runs up the street and finds a store still open at almost midnight to buy some.
So the night ends with a delicious typical Haitian meal, on plastic chairs on the street, watching Vivian cook and sing and smile. She has the appearance of a great wise woman whom you could tell your story to and from whom you would receive wise counsel from some deep spiritual well. Jonathan leaned over to me and said "THIS is Haiti!"
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