Rufus T. Firefly wrote:up148 wrote:Haiti was one of the lowest and scariest....
My previous boss had traveled there and he would have agreed with you - when he was there the Ton-Ton Macoute was still there driving all the taxis.....
For such a small 3rd world country, that lacked so much of the basic necessities of life, it was very politically charged as I remember. You couldn't ask about or discuss the country and its horrible condition, without the name François "Papa Doc" Duvalier coming up. Political corruption at it's finest. Forgot who was in power at the time of my visit, but he was just as corrupt and elections were coming up in a year, with another corrupt opposition leader running.
I remember the island was preparing for Madeleine Albright to arrive, but don't remember if this was when she was Secretary of State or in her UN role. But, it was a big deal and I was glad I was leaving before her arrival, as the locals were worried about violence.
Haiti was the 3rd Caribbean country I visited in the 80's-90's and soldiers with machine guns strolling were present at all.
My 1st experience was Trinidad, in the mid 80's, which is a pretty peaceful little country, but lots of poverty. You either had a job and lived in some kind of house or had no job and lived on a huge hillside, 500-600 foot tall, overlooking the town of Port-Au-Prince. Your home was a makeshift metal and cardboard shack and there were thousands of them. The cab driver pointed it out to me, but being night and no electricity in "shacktown" as they called it, there was nothing to see, just the overpowering stink. The next day in sunlight it was overwhelming.
I was a pup as a world traveler back then and never actually became a globe trekker. I avoided overseas travel whenever I could and just wanted to stay in the "good old" USA. Best part of any overseas trip to me was getting on the aircraft for the trip home. Anyway, I arrived on a Friday night about 10PM. Cleared customs and went towards the door to catch a cab to the hotel. I remember looking out the terminal door and seeing nothing but a sea of darkness and thinking "steady boy". No parking lot lights, no street lights, just hundreds of locals selling everything from trinkets to food and singing on the terminal steps. Several small fires over in the trees with lots of people standing around. The adrenalin was peaking that night and although I was scared sh+tless, I didn't want to show it. I could handle myself in most situations, but I wasn't prepared for this.
I wasn't one step out the door when a black (everyone was) soldier with a machine gun grabbed my arm. He asked where I was going and when he learned, he told me to never walk outside that airport terminal by myself at night. He walked me through crowd of locals selling their BS and down to a cab and put me in it. He told the driver where I was going and asked to see the driver's cab license which he wrote down. Trust me, this solder was my new best friend and I thanked him and told him so. I was just about the only white man at the airport, except for some VIP's in suits who were whisked away to waiting cars.
I made several trips to Trinidad before our business was concluded and within a month I was an old hand at arriving and departing. But, the scenario was always the same. Hundreds of locals greeting and selling trinkets, food, statues and "Hot Roti" to anyone who would buy.
BH
