Vassar Haiti Project

Sarah Oliver is a senior at Vassar College, majoring in Anthropology and pursuing a future career in medicine. In Vassar Haiti Project, Sarah is currently serving as the President of Internal Operations and is an invaluable member of the organization. She has had the opportunity to go Chermaitre, Haiti twice, during both her freshman and junior year. In the following, Sarah shares a beautiful recollection from one of her trips to Chermaitre.

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A wispy cloud of dust settles behind our truck as we pull up to the base of the mountain. We’ve arrived midmorning because the hike up to Chermaitre will take about two hours and we don’t want to be hiking in the heat of the day. Not that it matters; the sun is already beating down, its sizzling rays hitting our backs, our heads, our arms, our legs and instantaneously transforming into tiny beads of sweat. So much for escaping the heat.

The local Boy and Girl Scouts greet us, singing and clapping, while the older boys and girls grab our bags from the back. I feel so guilty letting others carry my stuff, yet everyone knows that us Americans are too weak to carry our own things up the mountain. Our hearts aren’t strong enough, not conditioned by daily treks up and down to the market or over and around to the stream. The teens load the packs on their heads and backs and take off. The little ones, not yet strong enough to carry things, grab our hands and lead us up the mountain.

The Haitian mountains are strangely beautiful. I want to say cliché things about verdant green peaks, rushing clear waters, and rich chocolately dirt, but that’s simply not true. The mountains I hike through are a different paradise all together. There are fewer trees, due to enormous deforestation, but that clears the way so I can see the faded outline of people hiking to their homes. The rivers are a muddy red, full of erosion, but also full of life as women wash clothes and toddlers bathe and play. The dirt is everywhere, a layer of sepia suede that wraps itself around all things, creating an aura of earthiness.

Haiti is vibrant and buzzing. There is an internal happiness that escapes from inside and explodes into the air, seeping into the artwork that we inevitably bring back. There is such a difference from what I’ve seen in the media of destruction and despair. It reminds me to constantly question what I think I know.

The little girl who is holding my hand has beautiful big brown eyes. There are mint green bows in her braids that perfectly match her school uniform. Although her sandals are slipping off her feet, she keeps her balance on the shifting dirt, managing to help me and my secure hiking boots find bigger rocks to step on. She speaks to me in Creole. I don’t know, M’pa konnen, I say, with a slight frown, wishing I could communicate more. She smiles and squeezes my hand. I smile back. We hike on.