Haiti Blog 9

I am sitting at the Jacmel airport at this time.

The way it works, when you are ready to leave country, you are transported to the airport by van. For the past month, there has been a constant stream of aircraft of all shapes and sizes shuttling health care volunteers and supplies back and forth from the Dominican to Jacmel.

 The Canadian Army controls the airport (the control tower is an open elevated platform).

What used to be a small lobby is now a room of packed with soldiers at desks marked “Communications”, “Quartermaster”, “Transportation”, etc.

When we arrived, there were two very small helicopters waiting to fly people back to the DR. And I mean small ! They were the type where the entire cockpit was a glass dome. Each chopper could only take 3 passengers, so I asked for volunteers. Peter, VJ, Deann, Suzanne, Tasha, and Bill would take the helicopters. Just one week ago, Bill Fennell had never been out of the country. He had never flown! Now here he was getting on a small chopper to fly over 10 thousand foot mountains to the DR. Amazing how someone’s life can change so much in just a few days. After they boarded, the helicopters took off together, made a pass over us, and then flew off in formation towards the mountains in the distance. You could almost hear the closing music from MASH.

Marie, Gary, and I will wait for the next aircraft to come in. There have been days when none arrive throughout the afternoon, stranding would be travelers. Hope that doesn’t happen, as we are booked on JetBlue at 6AM Saturday out of the DR.

As I sit next to Marie and write this, I am reminded of a story she told the other night about her grandmother. Marie was originally from Normandie, but her grandmother lived in the French Alps. During the war she had harbored injured French Resistance fighters in her home and nursed them back to health. Her bravery was incredible, considering that she had 7 small children of her own who were being put at risk. A German search party came once, and she remembered that she had a bottle of Schnapps. She sat down and drank it with them. They finally left, and apparently had forgotten what they had come for in the first place.

She would be very proud of what her granddaughter had accomplished this week.
I don’t mind the wait. To me, it is the tropical version of the Paris air show, with a steady stream of private and commercial aircraft of every shape and size. Big Sikorsky helicopters, citation jets, Cape Air planes, etc. It is a truly amazing operation. Private pilots and companies have donated their own time and resources. Without them, I am not sure how the relief effort would have ever materialized.
It is like the scene from an old war movie, where the fresh troops arrive to replace the old. (Again, in no way do I mean to equate our service to that of real heroes, those serving in Iraq, Afghanistan, etc.). It is easy to distinguish those who are arriving from those leaving by the looks on their faces . . . apprehensive vs. weary. I use the term apprehensive and not scared, because when we arrived just one week ago we were somewhat nervous about the unknown, but not fearful. Similarly, the word “tired” is more of a physical term, where ”weary” also encompasses the mental drain which we were all experiencing. You could almost feel your adrenal glands slow down the production of adrenaline, which for days had been running at barrels per minute and had now backed off to the more normal rate.
There was the usual banter among the incoming and outgoing. Many questions, with informative and hopefully reassuring answers. One group of arriving doctors consisted of a pediatric orthopedic surgeon, a high risk pregnancy OB-GYN, and a urologist from the University of Rochester. Again, a byproduct of this horrific natural disaster was that one of the poorest countries in the world was now receiving medical care at a world class level (although without the ancillary equipment and supplies).

As I had mentioned, I didn’t mind the wait. A middle aged fellow in shorts came up to us and asked if anyone needed a ride out of country. We quickly responded in the affirmative. He led us out to his luxurious prop jet. Seats 8, leather seating, mahogany details. When I told him I had my private pilot’s license, he invited me to serve as co-pilot. Quite a thrill.
This gentleman was an American, made a lot of money on real estate, and got out at the right time. He flew down here a couple of weeks ago with some of his buddies, and they were staying at a 5 star resort in Punta Cana, DR. He has been all over the world, and told me that this resort was second to none. Each day as his friends went to the golf course, he would fly the twenty minutes from Punta Cana to Santiago, then spend the day shuttling personnel and supplies to Haiti. At the end of the day, he’d fly back to join his friends for dinner, and retire to his luxury resort hotel room. I will miss meeting people like this and hearing their stories.

After a glorious flight (one of the best I have ever had), we landed in Santiago, DR.
No sooner had we stepped onto the tarmac, VJ called to tell us they had arrived. They had left almost 2 hours before us! It turns out that those small helicopters had to skirt the mountains and not fly directly. In addition they needed to make a stop to refuel.

We were met at the airport by an American missionary worker. She had a pickup truck, and was going to make two trips. At this point we were willing to pile in the back with our entire luggage to expedite matters. I had a picture taken of us riding in the back of a pickup truck through the DR. Can’t wait to share it with my Dominical friends. The mood was very upbeat.
We were perplexed as she drove right past the airport hotel where we had been told we were spending the night. She drove another couple of miles, turned off the paved highway onto a rural dirt road, passing shanties, litter strewn lots, goats, cows, etc. We were immediately flooded with recent memories. She pulled into a gated home and we all got out. Plans had been changed, and we were to spend the night at this house. She explained that there would be twenty-five of us in total, and she had prepared a meal. An urgent team meeting was called, and the first word spoken was a unified “NO.”
We tried not to hurt her feelings, but we did not relish the thought of sleeping on the floor again and having 25 people fight over 2 showers at four in the morning.
Back to the hotel which we had passed. Hot showers, a bed, reliable electricity, toilets that work. Be still my heart !
I had asked for a wake-up call at 3:45 AM, and two taxis at 4:15.
I received a wake-up call at 4:15, informing me that a taxi (only one) had been waiting since 3:45.
Rushed to the airport. Fortunately our flight was delayed an hour, so we had no problem. Gary and I had what we both agreed was the best cup of coffee we had ever had.
Interesting scene going through security.
As a background . . . Dr. Sigman had called me after Mike Kettenbach had dropped off the supplies at his house (it seems like decades ago). He described the abundant prepared meals, satellite phone, headlights, solar generator. He exclaimed “we even have booze.” I didn’t know what he was referring to, and quickly forgot it.
Those bags were checked going down, but Peter asked me to transport the electrical equipment in my carryon on the return flight. No problem.
I was detained at the security checkpoint.
“What liquid do you have in your bag”?
“I don’t have any liquid in my bag.”
“We will ask you one more time, what liquid are you transporting”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
They then rummaged through my backpack, opened the sat phone carry case, and produced two silver hip flasks. It must be the booze Sigman had been referring to.
“What is in these containers”
“I really don’t know, I was asked by another person to put them in my bag and take them on the plane”
The minute I had completed the sentence, I knew once again . . .poor word choice! Fortunately we were able to resolve the issue.
As we rumbled down the runway and took off, there was a feeling of relief and excitement in anticipation of returning home to our family and friends. It was dawn, and a bright sun was shining through my window. I pulled down the shade. All was good.
As the aircraft made a sweeping turn to assume its northward route, the sun no longer shone directly on my window, and I opened the shade a bit. We were passing over Haiti, still in pre-dawn darkness.
I am not generally an emotional person, in fact far from it. However, that one moment was a little tough. I almost felt that we were abandoning our new found friends.
Did we do some good this past week? Maybe a little. Not much. I truly believe that we have benefited far more from Haiti, than they from us.
Conclusion to follow.