Adventures in the caribbean

My 3 week sojourn to Haiti is coming to an end. Yippee! It has not been an easy trip, mostly because of the situation in Port-au-Prince. Yes, I realize this is a country still reeling from tragedy and devastation. And yes, I am fully aware of all of the people living in the tent camps tucked into former parking lots, parks, sports fields and barren hillsides. More on that later.

Due to the shortage of hotel rooms, we rented a house for the duration of our stay. In principle, a good idea - more space, the ability to cook, no crazy old french men to deal with ( the hotels are full of them!). Alas, the day before we arrived into the city, a big storm / hurricane / tornado came through. It is unclear what type of weather phenomenon it was, but it was intense and not forecasted. And it resulted in most of the city being left in darkness as trees fell, electricity poles broke, and tents blew away. Two weeks later, still no lights in the house. Given that it gets dark by 6pm, we’ve been rocking the candles and cold showers. But, for someone whose work involves the computer, internet, and other such office amenities, this threw a wrench into our plans.

Luckily (I think), the neighbor is a consultant for this study. And he suggested the house. He has a sweet set up, with satellite dishes, wireless internet, a generator to power it all, and many servants. If you are going to be a career consultant, its best to live in a country with a low cost of living! His “office” is on the balcony, overlooking the city and the sea. We basically kept going to his house to power our electronics, and use the internet, until we bought a 100 foot long extension cord, and strung it through a window. Now, we can sit in the dark, but have power to our computers. Working by candle light. It’s most incongruous.

These inconveniences aside, there have been, as there tend to always be, adventures. I spent a week with “Cousin of Tarantula” in my bathroom - it would come out in the evenings, and hang around the toilet. Once, it went into the toilet - and I could neither flush it down nor get it out. Of course, that meant I had to go to the bathroom. I came to accept “Cousin of Tarantula” - a hairy spider with a body the size of a silver dollar. Until one day.... when, during a shower, I looked up to see... Tarantula herself. This gigantic beast was hanging out in a corner, with a belly full of eggs (a white sack under the black hairy black hairy large hairy black body). Oh. It was not pleasant. This was my first week in Haiti, and we had decamped to an island (Ile a vache) in order to plan and strategize. That meant I could try and find a hotel staff person to deal with the beast. Except, how to say “Ridiculously large tarantula creature” in french? It was shooed off, for the moment, but it was not to be deterred.

Later in the evening, the far too solicitous hotel owner, fortified with several shots of rum, offered to “check out” my room for me. I wasn’t too keen on it, but relented and he went off alone to see if Tarantula was still in the bathroom. I, for one, had decided to use the bathroom of my colleague. When he still hadn’t returned after 10 minutes, I decided to go looking for him. I announced my arrival in the room loudly, and he appears in the door of the bathroom, disheveled, sweaty, wet... mumbling something about “don’t worry about that balled up towel behind the toilet.” and “I had to clean up.” The fight was dirty. But Tarantula was dead.

Russians, and 3 containers of hemorrhoid cream

Although my evenings in Haiti were few, there was enough time to hear stories from some very willing story tellers about the days in the aftermath of the earthquake.

As an example of the ridiculous reach of litigious American society, in the days immediately after the earthquake, when relief workers, doctors, EMTs and others were pouring into Haiti willing to do anything, at least one USAID employee was tasked with running around the tarmac, trying to identify surgeons and get them to the Embassy. The plan was to identify them, make them into teams, and deploy them to the various sites where they were needed. Seeing as how they were arriving from the US, it made sense for the US embassy to want to coordinate their deployment. Alas, the US military was also arriving. And they did not feel that they could ensure the security of the medical teams. So, surgeons, who had come for the express purpose of saving lives, were napping in the embassy compound while USAID and the military argued over the security assessments. In the meantime, relief teams from other countries were arriving, and getting right to work. The airport runner ( a really nice man with a much more important job normally) told me:

“The doctors were lying on the ground with their hands behind their heads. Just waiting. They had everything with them for a mobile hospital. But they couldn’t go, in case something happened to them and the government got sued. Finally, 3 days later, the military said that they could provide security. We went at 2am to set up the tents. By 6am, they were operating. But you know who got there before the Americans? The Russians. The Israelis. The Turkish. The RUSSIANS!”

This was the same man who has no love lost for Dr. Sanjay Gupta, because he maintains that our favorite Indian reporter was purposefully seeking out the bad stories, and not telling any of the good ones. Currently, if CNN reports something, it comes to the attention of President Obama. Who calls Hillary. Who calls Rajiv. Who calls the USAID mission director in Haiti. Therefore - CNN=Bad.

All of the help which poured in from around the world came in many different forms. Much of it came in random donations. Including some company which sent 3 shipping containers full of hemorrhoid cream. Given that many of the medical storage facilities were also affected by the earthquake, there is neither any place to put all of these supplies, nor the need in Haiti for so much salve. Some of the donations now have to be destroyed, because they cannot be used or stored properly-a real shame.

A well-meaning American came to Haiti saying that he had a machine which could make water out of air. Given the shortage of potable water, this could be a useful machine. Prior to the earthquake, Haiti’s main tertiary care hospital did not have potable water on its premises. He requested (read demanded) that the USAID mission assist him in getting his machine from the port to the hospital. Given poor road conditions, this was a tricky affair to organize, and not a priority as locals figured - the hospital didn’t have water before...surely it isn’t an emergency now. But Mr. Well-meaning is also well-connected, and had the ear of some senator. CNN came to do a story. The machine found its way to the hospital. 6 months later, the hospital administrator wants the machine off of his property. He didn’t ask for it. He doesn’t use it. It consumes too much fuel to operate.

Stories and observations in Haiti

It does not take a lot of knowledge to stand on a soapbox. With a little bit of balance, and an ability to know when someone might push you off, one could stand and expound to their heart’s content on a wide variety of subjects. Given the little skill required, I am taking my turn. With about 5 minutes of in person knowledge of Haiti, and perhaps 10 minutes on the world of “development”, as well as no requirement to cite my sources, this is my time to shine.

Haiti. The only Caribbean island where malaria is still prevalent. One of only a handful to speak french. And the poorest country in the western hemisphere, with a UN security force which has been present for over a decade. This is a country which has required, and received, international assistance for a number of years, but with dictators, deposed presidents, political unrest and natural disasters, even before January 12, 2010, progress would have been hard to notice.

My visit here came at short notice, and has totaled just 3.5 days. Nevertheless, I was apprehensive about what I would see, how I would react, and what it means to have 200,000 dead, 300,000 injured and 1.5 million people in tents. The destruction is not what I had feared. While there are many many destroyed buildings, and piles of rubble everywhere, there are just as many intact buildings, and these are seemingly randomly dispersed among those that did not make it. The narrow winding streets are jammed with vehicles, the Caribbean air, sea, and sun will put a smile on anyone’s face, and business, in everything from bread and batteries to tires and generators is brisk. The first hotel we stayed at was about 60 miles away from Port-au-Prince, to the north, along the coast. That distance from the city, there was no destruction, and perhaps little evidence that such a grand tragedy occurred in this country. Of course, the reason we had to stay so far is that the major hotels in town collapsed, and there are not enough rooms for all of the international agency representatives.

The US embassy has come up with a novel solution for the hundreds of temporary workers (TDYers in their lingo). Build a tent city within the secure gates and walls of the embassy compound. So, upon entry into the embassy, where there was perhaps once a wide lawn, there are now 50 or so high end tents, with electricity, fans, and doors with locks. And a 24 hour marine guard. Still, it is a tent at the office, which means that while colleagues are arriving in their 4x4s, the tent dwelling consultant is scurrying from the locker rooms near the pool back to the shared tent to get spiffy.

Given the many questions that I had both prior to arriving and once I laid eyes on this city, I’ve been lucky to be able to have a few chats with my new Haitian colleagues, as well as with our driver, whose french/creole mix I can mostly understand. Through their stories about the day of and just after the earthquake, I have learned many things, including why 1 colleague professed his extreme distaste for CNN and Sanjay Gupta.

For starters, my colleague and I both agree that there is no way that there are 1.5 million people in tents in Port-au-Prince. Unless camps with tens of thousands of occupants are miraculously hidden, this figure, used by the UN and other agencies, must be grossly overstated. The camps developed informal management committees, and when they are asked how many live in “their” camp, overstating of figures, sometimes 10 times or more, is not uncommon. By overstating their occupancy, they feel, even now 6 months after the earthquake, that they will receive more food and commodities, which they can sell to others. There are political reasons too for overstating the IDP situation. Until they can be better enumerated, the Haitian elections cannot be easily accomplished. Confusion during elections often have a beneficiary.

There is no government coordination of the clean-up. As a result, rubble abounds. For an average person, there is no way to finance the clean-up of their own home and property. It requires people, construction equipment, and trucks to cart away the detritus. Coordination of this effort is not evident, and when I asked if there are radio or other messages indicating what is going on, it did not seem as though there were. I also have not seen a single newspaper in 3 days. No people selling newspapers. No people reading newspapers. No billboards advertising newspapers. Curious.

This is now. But what about then?

Random observations

I've been having an odd, and surprisingly strongly negative reaction, to the font that is being used for all the official FIFA signs. Let's back up. I have an opinion on a font. WTF is wrong with me? !!? Surely there are other things that I can form opinions on. But, there it is - FIFA: Bad choice on the font. Too childish.

Transport to the games is well organized - I've tried 4 methods now. Walking, new bus system called Rea Vaya, park and ride (actually park, walk, ride, walk, walk, walk...) and hired minibus for a group. For my last match, I think I'll have to try the train. It's quite amazing, because Joburgers with means never take any form of public transport. And now, they are having epiphanies and revelations on a daily basis - white people on the train is massive!

Yesterday at the Argentina-Mexico match, I saw the FIFA police in action. There was a highly innocent, well decorated banner hanging on the rail in front of me, from a guy who had followed Argentina to 3 recent World Cups. On his banner, he had painted the logos for 2002-Japan, 2006-Germany and 2010-South Africa. Apparently, this was not cool. Not regulation. Not officially sanctioned. No more banner for Mr. Argentina. This, out of the hundreds of banners hanging around the rails. Those are some hawk eyed FIFA police.

I'm considering filling my suitcase with vuvuzelas. Do you think there is an ebay market for that?

Official FIFA everything

It is very interesting to see that in stadiums, fan parks, and any associated FIFA venues, viewing areas and the like, there are only a handful of products available for sale. These are the official licensed FIFA products. From the point of view of the spectator, it is boring - you can buy Coke, Sprite and Powerade; Budweiser; Cadbury chocolate; and hot dogs, boerworst rolls (not sure if they are branded...) and biltong (jerky). As for merchandise, there are official jerseys and other paraphernalia available at the stadiums, but there are also a host of other official licensed products which are not available. These products, for which the companies have paid large licensing fees to FIFA, include the products of Soylights, the company of my hostess here in Joburg.
As a new company, they thought that getting these wonderful products into the market for tourists would be a solid business opportunity. All has not worked out as planned, however, because all of the markets into which they were promised entry before signing the contract and paying the high licensing fee were subsequently denied to them. This included sales in the official fan shops at the stadiums, because they candles were deemed "missiles", and therefore dangerous. It also included 3 national retailers with whom they could not enter into exploratory negotiations until after they signed the contract with FIFA. And as a final blow, they were denied entry into the official web platform, because the products displayed on the web platform had to be created, approved and ready for sale by January 2010, when they only signed the contract the prior month. Each and every product had to be approved, with samples sent to Singapore, and only a finite number of images previously approved by FIFA could be used. Their own brand name is not allowed to grace the packaging, and all profits after the license costs are covered belong to FIFA. For a small company, these restrictions are very constraining. Sadly, she told me that of the 30 some odd official license holders in South Africa, only 4 make products locally, using local labor and materials. The rest, as I alluded to before, come from China. The candles are great small gifts, and should have been picked up by the hospitality and corporate gifting industries, but it turns out that some enterprising individual has the license to deal with all corporate gifts. As gatekeeper, he collects 15% sales commission, without having to engage in much legwork - that is the realm of the product manufacturer. To my delight and admiration, the company's owners have taken a very positive view of the learning opportunity presented to them. I am nonetheless wracking my brain for ways for them to increase sales before the end of the event. The online sales limitation is really a killer.

This is a resilient country and people - on a number of levels. One example has been from my friend Ant, who put together a labor of love in light of the loss and elimination of the home squad from the tournament. He was worried that local support would wane since Bafana Bafana is no longer playing. So, he created an inspirational presentation to share with his friends. I share it below - it had music, which does not come through in the google docs embeded format.




Ke Nako = It is time.

Other local catch phrases for the games:
Ayoba = "It's all good"
Laduma = Goal
Makarapa=the safety helmet which has been cut up and painted

Fick Fufa

The legacy of the world cup in South Africa won’t be known until weeks, months and even years after the 64 games have ended, the tourists have left, and all the FIFA officials have turned their energies to Brazil. Nevertheless, stories of distress, injustice, absurdity and misfortune are already surfacing. In the midst of a global recession, in a country desperate for job creation, however, it certainly appears as though the primary beneficiary of retail sales is somewhere in the Guangzhou province.

South Africa is the host, and my experiences so far have led me to believe that it is a very accommodating and gracious host. Like well appointed homes all over the world, they have cleaned and swept, dusted off their best china, and are wanting to provide their guests with experiences they will cherish and “gifts” they can return home with. On the streets, we can find vendors selling the flags of many nations, hats and scarves and beaded trinkets of all sorts. The genius behind the vuvuzela socks (flag inspired covers for the generic plastic horn) came to a budding entrepreneur as a vision, and is now a business which employs many compatriots, at least for the duration of the big dance. Stories of success will certainly emerge, and it is those stories for which we must search when the inevitable recriminations occur.

So why the angry title? It was the newspaper headline two days ago, in the wake of the arrest of the “ambush marketers” - 18 women dressed in identical orange dresses, dancing in the stands at the Netherlands-Denmark match last Monday. Police surrounded them, arrested them, made them leave the match...because apparently, some eagle eyed FIFA official (because surely the South African police would not have been aware of this) recalled that the particular orange dress the women were wearing was somehow associated with a Dutch beer company. And the only beer company that can be associated with FIFA is Budweiser. As in many countries, the judicial processes in South Africa are slow, and generally under-resourced. Yet, while the dance card is open, 56 additional courtrooms have been made available expressly for FIFA related “crimes”.

If the idea of a FIFA related crime sounds a bit absurd, especially in the context of a city with one of the world’s highest violent crime rates, it probably is. These are crimes which are perpetrated against the pocket books of the corporate giant which is FIFA. I had never before thought of FIFA as a corporate giant, and if I had ever considered the idea of exclusive marketing rights or sponsorship, it was buried deep somewhere below the frontal cortex. FIFA, it seems, have the power to bend multinational corporations and governments to their demands - the ultimate beneficiary of whom is...not the South African people.

More to come soon...

World Cup Fever!!!

Just two days back in Jozi, and I’m already finding ways to get into situations. It must be something about this city. The memories are coming back for sure- Campus Square Mall with the Pick N Pay, and people selling things at the corner. The only difference is that now they are selling flags of every country, hats that look like soccer balls, and of course, the ubiquitous vuvuzela.

For all the vuvuzela naysayers, you have to be here. The vibe in the stadium when people are going, in rhythm - some of them sound like old elephants, while others sound like kazoos - absolutely wild. And the horns aren’t just confined to the stadia - people walk down the street blowing them, take them into the bars where they are watching the games, have them in their car. On a public health side note, there will be a great deal of hearing loss as a result. Even with earplugs, you get the full effect.

My first match was seen in Melville, on 7th street - an old haunt. It was South Africa-Uruguay, and the town was decked in yellow. Every bar was packed, and tvs were blaring. But, after the red card and penalty kick, things fell flat. The stadium started clearing out, the vuvuzelas stopped their song, and those who could, probably drank more. For the host nation, Bafana Bafana is not a very smooth team.

And then today, the first live match. USA-Slovenia at Ellis Park, on the other side of the city. It was a project, to figure out how I was going to get there alone, and how to get back after dark. There is a new “rapid transit” bus system called Rea Vaya, with built stations throughout the region. But, of course, nothing in Melville. So, I decided to take a combi, my old form of transport, into city center. Someone advised me that I could walk from the Nord rank to Ellis Park. But the first foray into city center, after 6 years, was disconcerting. I remembered some things, but have forgotten most of my zulu. Street names were familiar, but not registering. In the end, after asking a couple of uniformed folks - some kind of pseudo police who are deployed all over during the event, I think - someone decided that I was lost. I was not lost, in fact. I was just a bit disoriented. But it was 1pm, sunny, and I had no problem walking. Unfortunately, I could not explain this adequately to my new guardian, who decided that... I should get a police escort. Yes. Just to set the record straight, though, I was in the front seat of the van. It was ludicrous. But, they drove me like a kilometer, and then couldn’t get any closer anyway, so I walked.


The transport systems have been improved. But the attitude, about how foreigners, or even non-black people - cannot possibly figure out there way around town remains. There are park and ride stations, but if you don’t have a car and you are in one of the more upscale neighborhoods, there is no answer for how you will get to the stadium. The official guide alludes to a “westport” transport hub. Is it the Bree taxi rank? Who knows. No one has ever heard of such a hub.

On Sunday, I will travel in style to Soccer City, for Brazil-Cote d’Ivoire. My hostess and her whole family are going, and they have rented their own combi for the event. :) And before I get there, I have to acquire some random flags/hats/scarves so that I don’t feel naked.

I'm purposely not discussing the game I just saw. As exciting as the 2nd half was, there was so many frustrating moments, that there is no need to relive it.