Tiger-Cats offensive lineman Jason Jimenez was one of seven CFL players that took part in Huddle For Haiti, a CFLPA, WestJet and Oxfam Canada driven initiative that supports Haiti relief one year after the devastating earthquake. Jimenez recently returned from his 10-day visit to Haiti and will discuss his thoughts on the experience in a series of stories on Ticats.ca…
—
Traveling to and preparing for Haiti was similar to preparing for a football game. There was a heightened sense of excitement and anxiety for the unfamiliar. My game plan was to gain as much insight as possible before traveling to Haiti. Admittedly, reports of cholera lynch mobs and aid workers arrested on charges of kidnapping and voodoo had me a bit rattled.
Travel advisories also painted a very bleak picture for travel to Haiti. I scoured over as much information as possible to get a real sense of what it was that we were getting into. When I sifted through sensationalism and implausible that negatively depicted Haiti, I began to realize that their culture, ethos, and society were as genial as any other island in the Caribbean in spite of their misfortunes. Ultimately, nothing could fully prepare any of us for the havoc that Mother Nature wreaked on the already fragile country.
From the moment we arrived in Haiti, we quickly had to acclimate to the local environment and customs. The sun, humidity and lively incessant barrage of porters attempting to haggle and handle our luggage, quickly overwhelmed some in our group.
The look of shell shock on some faces was priceless.
Once transportation and logistics were sorted out, the next challenge we faced was the ride to our compound. Our caravan navigated strategically through traffic, ever mindful of the imminent proximity of other vehicles, pedestrians, vendors, debris and livestock sharing the road.
Yes, livestock.
As we left the airport, the fragile state of affairs that has gripped Haiti for several decades quickly manifested itself into collective land developments secured by high walls, armed sentries and razor wire. Clean, late model SUV’s at the command of the United Nations and other international community benefactors slowly patrolling the roadways starkly contrasted against the backdrop of dilapidated jalopies and tap taps—a local, colorfully adorned makeshift taxi.
As we arrived at the compound, the sighs of relief signaling that we had safely arrived were unmistakably clear. Our 25-minute ride was a primer for what we would see and experience in the days ahead. We were well received by the family of Winnipeg Blue Bombers running back Yvenson Bernard, and welcomed with a sumptuous feast of delectable Haitian dishes. The group favorite: pikliz – a very spicy vinegar-based cole slaw.
We all found a place to set up our tents and sleeping areas within the home, and prepared for the following day. That night, as we all lay on the floor trying to find a comfortable position to sleep, we were constantly awoken by the sounds of roosters. The mosquitoes also welcomed us to Haiti—some of us looked like we had contracted chicken pox overnight.
Early the next morning, we navigated the outskirts of Port au Prince towards Gran Goave to visit with Haiti Arise. Purveyors of evangelical influence and technical skills education, Haiti Arise is a promising and uplifting example of what private organizations with a vested interest in the community can do for the local economy and people. They are helping mostly orphan children with schooling and technical skills, while providing them with the means to self-sufficiency.
Their model of reconstruction and rehabilitation evinces a sense of belonging and direction for those without either, and serves as a good example, in my opinion, of how Haitians should organize to overcome the lack of leadership and corruption that is essentially holding them back as a nation.
We were deeply moved by their work and the stories that were shared by the people involved with Haiti Arise. We met some interesting people in Gran Goave and also participated in a parade that commemorated the ‘taking back’ of their town. The symbolism was too profound for my understanding, but I got a sense that the gesture of marching was a form of emancipation for the grief-stricken Gran Goavens.
All in all, it was a positive experience for all of us, and we left Gran Goave with a better understanding of what it was that Haiti had endured.
