The Haitian citadel

This amazing but little-known UNESCO World Heritage site (photographed here through the plane window as I flew to the north of Haiti) came out of an interesting part of the history of Haiti.

In 1804 the Haitian slaves prevailed in their revolt against their French masters, thus gaining their liberty and at the same time becoming the first black-led republic in the world.  Seven years later, however, these gains were partially reversed as the army general Henri Christophe proclaimed himself Henry I, King of Haiti, and imposed a system of forced labour on the people.

Fearing further attack from the French he set to work building a massive defensive fortress in the mountains behind Cap Haitien. Or rather, his men - 20,000 of them - set to work, in an eight-year undertaking that must surely have been worse than the work and conditions they had endured as slaves.  The fortress (known as Citadelle Laferierre) sits on top of a 3,000 foot high mountain.  Not only did the men have to haul rocks about and build the thick, imposing walls, but they had to equip the fortress - with some 365 cannons and 15,000 cannon balls.

The cannons weigh 2-2.5 tons, and each took 100 men some 15 days to haul up the mountainside.

The French never invaded, and in 1820 Christophe shot himself after becoming incapacitated by a stroke.

As well as the Citadel, he built himself a very grand palace, the Sans Souci, 7km away (as well as eight other palaces around the northern half of Haiti).  The place was badly damaged by the earthquake of 1842, looted of its contents and all but one of its marble statues, but is still an impressive site.

I visited both one Saturday during my three-week assignment to Haiti.  Thankfully you can drive most of the way up, and the last part can be done on horseback although it would make a tremendous walk for anyone fit enough.

Back in Haiti

You may recall my posts on my louiseinsenegal blog about my trip to Haiti in November 2010, and I am pleased to say that things have improved enormously since then.  Most of the rubble has been cleared away, displaced persons' camps have gone, roads have mostly been cleared away and the security situation has improved although Port au Prince is still quite a dangerous place.

But I was given a little tour around town on the Saturday, visiting the rather interesting museum and the iron market.  The latter has a fascinating voodoo section, with some very strange items on sale.

Voodoo is still a big force here, but difficult to see much of it.  In West Africa voodoo is seen as just another religion, albeit a traditional African one, and people are happy to talk to you about it.  In Haiti however it has become associated rather too much with the misuse of spiritual power and so it has become rather hidden away.  People still believe in it but have become embarrassed to admit to it.

On one Thursday evening I was taken to an old traditional style wooden hotel where a local band, RAM, play a live set every week.  They play the traditional voodoo music of Haiti, 11 of them on drums (four different types), guitars, metal gongs and a collection of strange vuvuzela-like tin horns, plus two singers and two dancers. A colleague described the sound as a "train-wreck".  I think that was pretty accurate, but it was a lively, fun, musical train-wreck which I really enjoyed.

I also had to spend a few days up in the north, at Cap Haitien and at Fort Liberte.  In that part of the country the security situation is much better and I was able to wander around the streets.  I got to visit the partly ruined Fort Dauphin in Fort Liberte, but also the incredible UNESCO World Heritage site of La Citadelle Laferriere - see next post...

First impressions of Panama

After the sensory overload that is Africa, I have to say that Panama City seems very bland.  I've not been getting any sights, sounds, smells or encounters that shout out "This is Latin America!", just a neat, clean and tidy set of streets and pavements with the occasional bank or fast food outlet - and lots of greenery.

Our office is in the canal zone, effectively a 1950's army barracks set amongst remnants of tropical forest.  It's full of birds (saw my first scarlet-chested tanager today!), and has the surreal sight of giant ships appearing to pass along between one field and the next, but otherwise it seems to have no character whatsoever.  I'd been keen to live near the office, having got used to a five minute walk to work in Dakar, but one look out of the window persuaded me otherwise. This is American family territory - great for those with children, dogs and cars but with nothing to offer someone single, childless and carless like me.  There aren't even any supermarkets that don't involve a drive to a mall, let alone anywhere to go out in the evenings.

Understanding my response to the canal zone, on Saturday afternoon a colleague drove me into the main part of the city.  Single herself, she was keen to show me why I might want to live downtown like her, in one of the skyscrapers lining the bay.  & I must say a 30th floor apartment, overlooking the Pacific Ocean and with a communal gym and pool on hand, certainly has its attractions.  I was surprised though to find just how well sound travels upwards, the noise from the four-lane dual carriageway down below making the high rise balcony anything but tranquil.  A major disadvantage too would be the daily commute from that side of town, with a choice between losing a good part of my income to taxi fares or spending 2-3 hours a day on buses.

So what to do?  I'm trying not to forget the lesson of Dakar as to just how important it is to live somewhere you like, somewhere you look forward to getting home to at the end of the day, but it seems that there will be nowhere here that ticks every box.

I'm off to Haiti tomorrow for a three-week assignment, but I think that on my return I'm going to have to get out there and onto those buses and see whether I could cope with them on a regular basis.