Haiti and the Republic of NGO

A quick look at the map of Hispaniola would present the armchair geographer with the mistaken impression that Haiti and the Dominican Republic are the only two nations existing on the island. However, to those who actually travel there, it soon becomes apparent that overlaying the same land as the Republic of Haiti is a separate nation with its own economy, language, culture and government. That nation has become known as the Republic of NGO. 

Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs) such as Oxfam, Red Cross, United Nations, Doctors Without Borders, and a dizzying array of other religious groups, charities and foreign governments are all attempting to fill the vacuum left by the Haitian government's inability to provide basic services such as hospitals, schools, security and even trash collection for all its citizens. Together, these entities constitute an alternative, largely autonomous government which operates alongside and in place of the Haitian government. 

In addition, the semi-permanent presence of thousands of foreigners has helped create a real estate bubble in certain areas of the capital which is kept inflated by the deep pockets of the NGOs, private contractors and missionaries who fill the hotels and rent apartments for 1000% of what locals can afford. Yes, 1000%. Many ordinary Haitians rent apartments for $200-400 per month. Meanwhile, foreigners and the tiny Haitian elite living within the enclaves of the Republic of NGO are paying $2,000-4,000 per month or live in large, well-appointed (and well guarded) homes and have access to amenities which exist nowhere else in Haiti. 

Many Haitians speak mostly Creole, but in the Republic of NGO, the language is almost all French and, to a much lesser extent, English. Often, wealthy Haitians will eschew Creole while in public and speak French instead. Prices are listed in US dollars. Children attend schools conducted in French or English, and it is possible to use flush toilets, enjoy a hot shower and eat in lively restaurants whose level of service approaches that of the US or Europe. They ply the streets in shiny white SUVs and pickup trucks emblazoned with their logos. 

On the other hand, for most Haitians, daily life presents a set of challenges which combine to yield the most difficult travel conditions I have ever faced. The vast majority of the capital, Port-au-Prince, is badly in need of development and repair. Electricity is inconsistent, public water, where available, is piped to public stations on the street. Many dwellings have cisterns and rely mostly on collected rainwater. The job of carrying water seems to be borne mostly by women and children, and the sight of people walking with pails of water balanced on their heads is commonplace. 

Most food is prepared and served under conditions which probably make it unsafe for visitors; I am uncertain of its effect on locals. Meat and other foods are routinely stored in the tropical heat for multiple days without refrigeration. Black flies are everywhere, and the air is clogged with dust and oily smoke which deposit a sooty film on all surfaces. Public restrooms are unavailable and more than once I saw both men and women relieving themselves on the sidewalks. 

Getting around town presents additional unique challenges. There is very little public transportation and few street signs, traffic control devices or street lights. All but the main roads are unpaved, many of the rest being finished with dusty pulverized concrete. Finished or not, almost every road is a bone-rattling experience featuring goat-dodging, head on collision-avoidance and pothole-straddling. A successful car ride requires patience, a touch of insanity and a willingness to just hit the gas and go for it sometimes. 

The security situation is also unpredictable. On my first full day in town, I was forcibly relieved of the inexpensive cell phone I had purchased only hours before. In addition to this first-person experience with street crime, I witnessed several incidences of violence and the robbery of a street merchant. Walking the streets during the day is a claustrophobic, chaotic exercise which requires some presence of mind and a thick skin. Evening excursions should be enjoyed with a friend or two. 

That being said, and despite feeling a general sense of menace much of the time, the streets are probably pretty safe from a statistical standpoint, taking into account the lack of police, the numbers of people on the street and the general economic situation. Like most people around the world, Haitians are peaceful people just trying to get by. They are amazingly resilient, patient and strong, and are justifiably proud of their ability to endure hardship with dignity. 

There is some frustration among Haitians about the way their country is represented in the media, and I know that some would take issue with this account. Despite the difficulty of everyday life, Haitians are proud of their country. They correctly point out that foreigners seem interested in only pointing out Haiti's blight while ignoring its good side. While it is true that the crowded sidewalks, vast piles of rubble and burning trash in the capital present visually striking images, the rural interior of the country remains largely inaccessible to visitors and locals alike. 

I've never seen a travel guide to Haiti, and a good road map, if I could have located one, would have been useless anyway because of the lack of road signs. Nevertheless, interested in discovering the beauty of Haiti for myself, I decided to leave Port au Prince and the Republic of NGO behind me and set off for the outer provinces in search of the real Haiti.