the meat district

Saturday I went with Nicole, Clement (who has worked with CODEP from its beginning), and Jeannette (who cleans the compound on a weekly basis) to the market. It seemed to be bustling with people and activity. People set up "shop" under wooden poles that held up scattered sheets to help protect from the heat of the sun. As we walked through the market, I found myself regularly squatting and walking strangely to avoid hitting these "roofs." We hobbled over piles of rubble at different points, but it seems they are bringing it in to some places to act as gravel and help minimize the mud and cover the feces that is common. I carried bags and felt incredibly out of place.

We passed through the "meat district," where slabs of various kinds of meat hung and were being separated into smaller portions. One man was hacking away at the chunk in front of him with a machete, which was spraying pieces of fat and meat in an arc around him and was evident by the globs covering his bare chest. Behind him there was a bef (cow) tied up grazing. We stopped at multiple vendors to spread out our purchases to a variety of individuals.

I understood nothing of the conversations around me and began to question what purpose I was serving that morning other than carrying a bag of goods. I quickly reminded myself that the purpose that day was simply to experience the market and did my best from there out to just observe and activate my senses. It was hot, sticky, and smelled of body odor. Haitians pressed close together to utilize the crowded walkways and obtain the goods they were seeking. I realized that yelling doesn't always indicate anger, not even when I think the tone might support that deduction.

Jeannette was protective at different times, steering me with our small group and trying to trade bags so that I wasn't carrying a heavy one. She directed me before her for a while, but eventually seemed to sevse that I was ok with my surroundings that that I wouldn't get separted. She and Clement took an opportunity at one "shop" to help identify the kreyol name for some of the items (of course I forgot them before we even made it back to the compound). It helps to hear the information in a variety of contexts and situations so that the words begin to connect more readily.

Jeannette and Clement were also very cautious at the roadside. One thing that can be tricky in crossing the roads here is that the vehicles won't stop for people. Pedestrians do NOT have the right of way as is custom in the US. Therefore you have to time your crossing carefully, particularly in a group so that everyone can stay together.

The drive to and from the market was sadder to me than my trip from the airport. I saw so much need. I saw people making do with incredibly little, just trying to survive another day. People milled about tent camps or on the edges of camps of "shelters" which were no more than fresh, raw timber from local trees or sheets to create some privacy and/or protection from the sun.