Given all of the recent weather-related unpleasantness in the US, I would imagine that most of you have not heard much about the weather here in Haiti. For the last week, a storm front has been stalled over Haiti and Jamaica, making for an uncharacteristically grey, breezy atmosphere. (It was so [relatively] chilly last week that I even broke out the going-to-the-US-in-winter long sleeved wardrobe.) Today things got particularly nasty, as it rained in the mountains from the early morning hours, which of course means that the Port-au-Prince metropolitan area flooded even without actual rainfall in these areas, due to the heavy runoff from the surrounding mountains.
Then the fun *really* began.
When Stephane left his office in Carrefour at 530pm this evening, there was already 1-3ft. of standing water, which is typical in that area due to its negligible elevation and vastly inadequate sewer system. Unfortunately, this deeply impoverished, densely populated area is also the current site of a cholera resurgence, as well as being home to at least 300,000 camp dwellers. One can only imagine the implications of even this minor flood in such an area....
Just after Stephane finally reached our home almost two hours later (we live only about 15 miles from his office, incidentally), the rains finally reached this side of the mountains. It POURED for more than 30 minutes, with thunder strong and close enough to shake our concrete house. Poor Ewan shook like an epileptic for most of the evening before collapsing from fear and exhaustion. (He and McArthur, who seemed wholly unperturbed by the evening's clamor, are now curled up together, asleep -- very cute.) There is a ravine directly behind, but about 500 feet below our house that is normally bone dry; tonight, we could hear the water rushing through it like a rapid, punctuated by the shouts of the people who live precariously close to its banks.
We even had some flooding in our house, though only a couple of inches on one side (tells you something about the construction here, no?), so we can hardly complain. One of Stephane's employees lives down the hill from us and has already called to say that his house has flooded completely. We offered for him to bring his family here at least for the night, but they want to try to start clearing the water.
To make all of this more ridiculous, we are now a full week into hurricane season and no government ministry can articulate a coherent 'plan d'urgence'. We are trying concertedly not to consider what will happen if an actual hurricane arrives.
1 comment:
Eeeeeks ... thinking about you and hope the rain ceases. I liked the Mr. T. entry much better.
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