Haiti is a place awash in Jesus and Viagra. All the Tap Taps are decorated with religious art, airbrushed crowns of thorns and confessions of faith such as: "Merci Jesus". Driving through the nightmare landscape of post earthquake Port Au Prince, I would have thought a logo of "What the Fuck Did We Do to Deserve This?" might have been more to the point. The Haitians are a faith filled people, and express gratitude to God on a daily basis... They are also keenly interested in what they call ti ra ra, roughly translated as a "little carnival". What it really equates to is fucking all night long.... which given the heat and humidity is no small feat. I guess if one lives in a U.N. tent with dirt floors, no running water, and a distinct lack of HBO... ti ra ra makes for a nice break from the daytime Jesus talk. I thought of the billions of fuck bucks Americans spend jerking off to porn online, and it occurred to me that a one dollar surcharge on any poontang purchase could buy a hell of a lot of rice and beans for hungry Haitian kids. Here's a slogan: "Making The World Better One Wank At A Time". I know a few guys that would quickly be feeding a whole village. A Haitian told me one night that some of the Extra Crispy Kristian types have been saying that the earthquake was God's punishment for voodoo, or maybe too much ti ra ra , or heaven forbid: Gays having voodoo sissy butt sex all night. That is just the type of thing old Yahweh is likely to get real old school about..But 300k to a million dead in 35 seconds seems a bit extreme even for The Almighty OG. While we were in the small village of Brossier (just outside the epicenter in Leogane) we were treated to a voodoo welcome ceremony. The Mambo (Priestess) set up a portable P.A to run on the compounds generator, the drummers beat the tambou for hours, rum was consumed, and all the locals came to sing and dance. Everyone had a good time, I danced with the Mambo, and when we asked about the spirits possessing the Mambo we were told we would have to wait until at least 2am. I guess the spirits don't care to possess anyone before last call.
Parts of Port au Prince reminded me of 8 mile road in Detroit, minus the liquor stores and tit bars. Everything is covered in a layer of dust and soot, one junkyard spills into the next sun baked lot full of old car parts and graffiti covered walls with faded lotto adverts. (For reasons that remain unclear, Haitians play the New York numbers at small stands dotted along rutted dirt tracks even in a remote village like rBossier). The echoes of Detroit continue into Haitian politics, though I suspect there is less corruption in Haiti. All along the crumbling walls we saw spray painted messages... sort of low tech tweets, some just the sad truth of what happened in that spot ( i.e. 180 Mort), some saying goodbye: "Adieu Maria", and many asking for the return of Papa Doc: "Returnez Duvalier". Since most scientists agree that Msr. Duvalier is still one well and truly dead motherfucker, this opens the way for some other strong man to step in and get the country moving. Should Kwame ever get a weekend pass from the lockup, he might consider a quick night flight to the island. If the Haitians could over look the brutality of Papa Doc and his Mocoutes, a little sexting among friends would not raise eyebrows in PaP.
I have read that some 30+ billion has been poured into Haiti in the past 20 or 30 years. That may well be, but you'd need a team of detectives to find any evidence of it. I suspect most of the cash ended up in numbered accounts in Europe. None the less the perspective generator that is Haiti was working just fine when we were there. Even though 72 % of the people live on less than two dollars a day, they don't begrudge anyone else wealth and success. They just want some too. That is a very un-American idea. Spending time with the people of such generous spirit forces a perspective change in even the most cynical traveler. I was reminded of the meanings of suffering and redemption. I was indicted for my indifference, and convicted for my selfishness. If the arc of the universe indeed bends toward justice: then a hard rain is gonna soak you and me to the bone.
