From September 29, 2022
Yesterday I woke up just before 6:00am, after a full eight hours of sleep. I needed a long sleep. In Haiti I rarely sleep more than six hours. I sent the Journal before I tracked the Hurricane Ian. Overnight, the hurricane “wobbled” a bit, which made the projected land fall move a bit further south than anticipated. This was good news for Tampa, but horrifying news for those living between Ft. Myers and Sarasota.
From September 28, 2022
A friend who has visited Haiti many times wrote to me yesterday and told me about a middle school in the north, in the town Gonaives, run by Italian nuns was ransacked last week. I once visited the school, La Sainte Famille, many years ago on an excursion with Fr. Tom. The looters stole computers and destroyed things they didn’t take. They inflicted much damage to the chapel.
From September 27, 2022
Yesterday, Gabens sent me four-minute audio message containing an update on the situation in Haiti. The promised protest and strike did in fact materialize. Banks and businesses were all closed. On the main road through Delmas there was a lot of trouble: barricades, shooting, burning tires, and chains strong across the road.
From September 26, 2022
My flight pushed back from the gate on time and we landed a few minutes early. I caught the bus to furthest parking garage at the airport. After paying the $330 parking fee, I exited the airport at 3:15pm. My hope was to be on the road by 4:00pm…so I was thrilled. I was on the southern end of the island by 4:50pm. I stopped at a supermarket and was home at 5:40pm.
From September 24, 2022
Tomorrow will be my 21st day in Haiti on this trip. That is about the maximum amount of time I
can spend here before real exhaustion sets in and makes every day seem like 40 hours long. And
these three weeks have been extra stressful due to the angry, volatile, destructive and completely
unproductive protests. For all the adults inside of Santa Chiara and beyond our walls, their mood
and outlook has been dark. People are genuinely fatigued from the relentless turmoil, chaos, and
uncertainty. The frustration level can’t be calculated.
From September 23, 2022
Last evening, about two hours after sending yesterday’s update, I saw plumes of the dreaded
black smoke rising from the busy intersection near us. So, that told me it wasn’t really over. It
might linger on and off here and there for a few more days.
From September 22, 2022
7:40am: I just took this photo from my office window of a goat in the alley below eating breakfast.
After his breakfast the goat was headed for a protest for better nutrition for goats.
From September 21, 2022
Today seemed a little less tense. Early this morning, around 7:30am, I heard an old, noisey water truck outside. It ws delivery water to a neighbor down a narrow, steep road. They had to run a hose a long way. But the fact that the truck was up in our neighborhood indicated to me that the drive had made it along the main road without encountering any barricades.
From September 20, 2022
At 9:00am, the policeman who serves as our part-time security agent called to say he found someone who could sell and deliver us 5 gallons of diesel fuel. Using our current conservation strategy, that amount of fuel could last us for three days. The cost of 4,500 gourdes, which comes to about $38 which is about $7.50 per gallon. Plus, we had to pay 1,400 gourdes to have the fuel delivered to us, which came to an additional twelve bucks.
From September 20, 2022
On Sunday morning, Steph ran into her father. He is a police inspector. He said he was going to go get his small propane gas tank filled. She asked him if he would take our small tank. He said sure. He returned with the two tanks. He told Steph the guy where he got the propane gas was a friend and he would fill the two big Santa Chiara tanks.