Darkness and Art in Port-au-Prince

A blog post by Melissa and Adam. Haiti was an amazing and intense experience. And it started as soon as we arrived at the border. First, we had the interrogation. Then we had a slow going gravel road for many miles. And then we had the traffic. As we came into Port-au-Prince we rolled to a stop, at one point moving about five feet in a 30 minute span. Not only was traffic overwhelming, but this city of more than 2 million people was dark. Yes, it was night (after all, more than 10 hours had passed since our "six-hour" bus left Santo Domingo), but night in most cities is full of bright lights. Surrounded by hoards of people and cars and no electricity, the bus crawled through Port-au-Prince's suburbs, finally arriving 11 hours after departing. We were no longer in the Dominican Republic.

We were exhausted, but we decided to rally for a Thursday night RAM concert at the historic Olaffson Hotel. RAM is a Haitian "roots" band, that plays into the wee hours without fail every Thursday night. The music was loud and fast and the large band was accompanied by a trio of tireless dancers (check it out yourself here). While the darkness and crowds of hours before were one side of Port-au-Prince, this artistic music was another. In the days to come we wouldn't see tourists, but we would see more darkness, corner stores lit by candlelight and a vibrant culture teaming with artists and musicians.

We spent three days in Port-au-Prince. On our first day we visited both the national museum and the Iron Market. The museum was small but good - we learned a bit about Haitian history and saw the anchor from Columbus' Santa Maria. We also learned about Konpa, another form of  upbeat Haitian music. The Iron Market was beautiful in its own right, newly reconstructed following its destruction in the 2010 earthquake. We had our first taste of Haitian visual art, which was as colorful and interesting as the music from the night before.

The entrance to the reconstructed Iron Market.

More impressive than the Iron Market, however, was the informal market around the Market. For blocks and blocks and blocks (perhaps we should say miles and miles) the market spread out in every direction. The market had completely taken over some streets, leaving just enough space for a trim human to walk between stalls. On other streets, horns honked incessantly as drivers tried to weave through traffic, vendors, and endless streams of pedestrians. Everything was for sale. A small sampling of items for sale included rusty computer parts, food (prepared and raw), phones, shoes, clothes, books, hair products, plastics, and lots of bagged water.  And on the few patches of ground not occupied by human beings there were tons of trash, much of it a thick carpet of discarded plastic water bags. The trash presented a sad contrast to an otherwise lively market scene, including the beautiful Iron Market.

Your average Haitian market stall.

That night we made a picnic dinner on the terrace of our hotel, which looked over much of the city. Here and there lights appeared below, but it was far from a bright scene. With night falling on the scenery below, we planned a trip to Croix des Bouquets, an area of town with blocks and blocks of Haitian metalwork artisans. We hoped the next day's trip would bring more art and less darkness.

To get to Croix des Bouquets we had to take a tap tap, or the perfect representation of Haiti in vehicular form. Only in Haiti would public transportation become such an elaborate work of art. We also have rarely had a louder, less comfortable ride. Tap taps come complete with a blaring staring system and people are packed in like sardines. Nonetheless, with assistance from helpful and friendly Haitians, we safely made it we made it to the metal work center.

A tap tap, complete with a note to God in English (perhaps specially made for us non Haitian Kreyol speakers).

Not be topped by the tap taps, the art in Croix de Bouquet was also fantastic. Made out of pounded out, discarded steel drums, the men worked tirelessly. Some women in the shops told us that they made metal work, but we never saw a woman pounding the metal. The artists used rudimentary hammers and chisels to pound out delicate works of art. They created everything from trees to scenes of Haitian musicians to miniature tap taps. We likely visited at least 15 workshops, and purchased far less than we appreciated.

Pounding out art in Croix des Bouquets

This is an example of a finished product from a website that sells Haitian art. 

We returned to our hotel in the early evening, took a rest, and then headed out to find a nearby restaurant. Our hotel was located in one of the nicer parts of the city, full of very large houses and good hotels. Like the rest of the city, however, there were no street lights and very limited sidewalks. And as it turned out, there were no restaurants either, despite mention of restaurants in the guidebook. We returned to the hotel, where we ate our final dinner in Port-au-Prince. Whereas the day had been a feast of one of Haiti's greatest assets (the art), the night was a reminder of Haiti's struggles (a lack of light and tourist infrastructure).

Our final day in Port-au-Prince included a visit to the city's labyrinthine cemetery (full of art and disorganization), a stroll to an art collective (lots of phallic art), and a quick stop in Petionville, one of Port-au-Prince's nicest neighborhoods (where we bought yet one more piece of art). We ate some lunch and headed off to the airport. We leisurely waited at the terminal with Sean and Delcia, prepared to fly to Haiti's second biggest city, Cap Haitien, and Leah awaited her flight to Santo Domingo.

After 30 minutes of waiting we realized only Leah was in the correct terminal (international flights only). Upon realizing this fact, we frantically said goodbye to Leah and jumped in a cab to the domestic terminal (a ride that lasted 2 minutes and cost $25 US...and this was after a bit of haggling). It was a chaotic end to a chaotic mix of positive and sad feelings about our time in Port-au-Prince. We wondered what surprises Cap-Haitien would offer as we boarded a very small plane Melissa feared would go down somewhere in the mountains along the way.

Adam in front of our little plane, ready for more adventures.