My first impressions of Port-au-Prince revolve around the driving and the thousands of people, people, people spilling out of ramshackle houses and dusty markets, stepping fearlessly in front of moving cars and picking their way through potholes and garbage or merely standing aimlessly on corners watching the world pass by. The sights and sounds were colorful and alive, but my sense of many of the Haitian people we saw was one of life suppressed. By that I mean to say that the colors and music shouted that this was a nation of vibrant people, yet the look in their eyes was just the opposite … as though suffering and struggle had snuffed that joy of living out long ago.
As in Santiago, there were vendors and panhandlers and window washers approaching the car at every stop, but here there were so many more and much more insistent. The driving was chaotic, not due to speed but to the lack of infrastructure relating to roads in this city. Giant potholes that a person could fall into were unavoidable, so we learned to hang tight and hold the babies’ heads still as the truck dipped in and out of these. I was thankful for our driver who, though he spoke little, seemed to understand the many unwritten rules of the road and brought us safely to each destination. I was thankful also for Mirlande, who was definitely in charge and knew exactly what to say and do in each situation we encountered!
The United States embassy in Port-au-Prince was exactly as I expected: the largest, most visible and stolid building in sight. The main room where our adoption coordinator awaited was packed full of Haitian families dressed in their Sunday best, waiting quietly and patiently for the opportunity to apply for a visa to the United States. Needless to say, we attracted a lot of attention as we entered with two babies and headed for the corner to meet Barbara and with her help to complete the information we were lacking on our I-600 and Orphan First forms for each boy. She decided that although our appointment had been changed, it would be best to check with the officer in charge and see if we could file today anyway. I am so glad we did! When our turn came, the office was accommodating and helpful and seemed to genuinely like the babies. Ian in particular turned on the charm for her (and everyone else in the room, for that matter – he is quite the social little man!) Alec was content to be snuggled quietly as the paperwork was completed.
More thrilling than the filing of our own paperwork was a visa given to little Juan, a happy 15-month old who is headed for Argentina via Miami. We would spend more time with him the following morning before he left with Barbara for his new home. Not only Juan, but as we exited the building we also stopped and spoke with a Canadian woman holding a pretty little girl in her arms. After two years of paperwork, she was here to take her daughter home. SO exciting to witness the happy ending that we all long for!
The events after the Embassy are something of a blur, but basically we hopped back into the pickup truck for another two hours of errands around the city. Everywhere we went, people would approach with questions and requests – they seemed to recognize the vehicle and know that assistance would come from it in one form or another. Indeed, the truck was loaded with school backpacks filled with over a hundred dollar’s worth of supplies for families whose children were returning to their studies. (School is not free in Haiti, nor are the uniforms and supplies, so many many children are unable to even attend.) At one point we made a stop to hand out these supplies and a crowd of people immediately circled around, hoping they would receive whatever was being offered. Pedro and the babies and I remained in the car, and soon there were knocks on the window by beggars and street vendors wanting our attention as well. It was, well … interesting, and hot, and we were glad to witness the event but also relieved when the truck pulled back onto pothole alley and we slowly headed towards “home.”
To be continued …
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