Cultural Space

I’ve been trying to get out as much as possible, and I’ve realized some very interesting differences about Haitian culture. A few weeks ago Shelly wanted to have all of her Haitian friends over for dinner. She was about to leave, and she wanted a chance to say good bye to everyone and thank them for all they had done for her. In the US, a customary thing to do in this event is to invite someone over for dinner. Shelly decided to do this, and I thought it was a really nice idea. The week before she went around and asked everyone to come Thursday night, and she also gave Jazumen (one of the women who cooks here) money to buy chicken, rice, beans, and vegetables for the evening. The night eventually rolled around and both Shelly and I were excited to see everyone. Together we had invited about twenty five people, and we thought that it would be a really fun dinner party where we would get to thank the Haitians who had contributed to our well being the past nine months. This is something I’ve done quite a few times in the US and I thought it would be no different here.

Shelly and I thought we would do the majority of the cooking, since it was our party, but Jazumen and Yvette (the two women who work in the kitchen) would not let us make anything. They didn’t really kick us out, but anytime we went to do something, they would push us out of the way and start doing it themselves. This was not uncommon, when we try to make dinner they usually intervene and end up cooking whatever we are trying to make, but we thought this would be different. First of all we told them that we were cooking, and more importantly, we had invited them. We felt bad asking someone to cook the meal for the party they themselves were attending.

When the women brushed me off in the kitchen, I used to think it was because I was a guy. I figured that they saw the kitchen as their domain and having a man in the kitchen was some broach of cultural conduct. It would kind of be like having a straight man working at a make up counter in the US. After talking with Pastor Pierre about this for a little while after the dinner though, I began to realize there was another aspect of Haitian culture (specifically rural culture) that I had missed up to that point. Jazumen and Yvette both take their jobs very seriously, and they are rare in that they have formal employment. Most Haitians in the rural country don’t have a formal job. They work on their fields and sell the produce, but having a formal job, being employed by someone is a big deal. They didn’t want me doing their job because they took such pride in their job. This is strange for me, because all this time I thought I was doing them a favor by trying to cook for myself, when I might have actually been a bit offensive.

Everyone started arriving at 6:00, and by about 7:00 everyone had come (some people were functioning on Haitian time) and we sat down to eat. There was more than enough rice and beans, and there was just enough chicken. Everyone was very civil, and there was a little chit chat, but most people served themselves and focused on their food. About ten or fifteen minutes passed, and then everyone was finished. This wasn’t a problem, but it wasn’t exactly what Shelly had planned, she wanted to have everyone stick around and chat, but no one really seemed inclined to do so. We took some pictures, and everyone was extremely friendly and perfectly happy to stick around for a little while longer, but it certainly wasn’t the same as it is in the US. In the US dinner parties like these last for hours, this one lasted a little more than an hour.

After clearing the plates (I would have done the dishes but Jazumen and Yvette wouldn’t have wanted me to do that much work in the kitchen) I realized that coming over to dinner isn’t really a thing in Haiti, and there are a few factors of Haitian life that make this the case.

The first factor creating this dynamic is that food is much more scarce in Haiti than in America. Not everyone goes hungry (though there is a high percentage of the rural population that is malnourished), but even those who have money and can afford food don’t have a readily available supply at home. Homes in rural Haiti don’t have refrigerators stocked with food, they don’t have convenient stores within driving distance. The only food they have is few bags of dry goods stored in a small shack located outside of their homes, and those generally need to be prepared. There are some small stands by the road that sell cooked rice or friend plantains, but overall food is much more difficult to come by in Haiti. The types of food that people do eat is also pretty bland. People don’t brag about the nutty flavor of their walnut chicken like they do in the US. Overall food is in Haiti is much more expensive and much less exciting.

The food however was not the only factor creating this cultural difference. Shelly and I both thought about the fact that people don’t have the over abundance of food most Americans have, and figured that breaking bread with our friends would be a really great way to show our appreciation. Even if food isn’t as celebrated, wouldn’t that just emphasize the intention of our gesture, and maybe make the people want to stay longer? For the most part those who came were quite touched that we invited them to break bread with us. After talking with Pastor Pierre for a little while, I think the reason our guests didn’t stick around to socialize was because, unlike Americans, Haitians spend most of their time around other people and very little time in private. Most Haitian Lakous (the collections of Haitian homes) are much more densely populated than American neighborhoods. The Lakou right next to the mission probably occupies the same amount of land that two or three US houses, but has ten or fifteen families living on it, and each family probably has at least four children rather than two or three. The community of Hope, the mission’s housing project, has twelve families living in it, as well as a gain mill and a carpenter’s shop, and the land it sits on is probably only twice the amount of land that my house at home occupies. Every time I walk out of my home in the US, I might see one or two neighbors, but there’s a likely chance I won’t see anyone. If a Haitian walks outside of his or her home, he or she is right in the midst of the ten of twelve other families hanging out. The mud huts that the majority of the population lives in don’t offer much ventilation, and they can get unbearably hot in the mid day sun, so most Haitians spend the majority of their time outside of their homes. I remember walking through a Lakou one day and thinking how much like my freshman year dorm it felt, because everyone was hanging out in the common areas, not in their rooms. Then I remembered the times in college where I felt overwhelmed by never having a minute to myself, and I realized that this is the life of most Haitians. If they want to wash themselves or their clothes, they have to go to a river or stream where there are probably four or five others washing. If they want to go get water they have to the pump and wait in line behind three or four other people getting water. If they want to go any where by car, they most likely have to travel via Tap-Tap. The average Tap-Tap is a pick up truck, and there are twelve to fifteen people packed into it. I’ve seen tap taps with people literally sitting on the roof because the inside was so crowded. All aspects of life besides sleeping are done with dozens of people around. Privacy is a rare privilege most rural Haitians never get to enjoy.

In the US, most people can go days on end without needing to interact with anyone outside of their immediate family. When I was working this time last year, I could easily go from Friday night to Monday morning in my house and see no one besides my parents if I didn’t want to go out with my friends or go to church (this was rare, but was still possible). During my twenty minute commute to work, the only person I listened to was Steve Inskeep on NPR, I traveled by myself in my own car, not packed into the cab of a tap-tap with fifteen other people. Most Americans spend much more time alone or with their immediate family than the Haitians in La Croix do. As Americans, we spend most of their time away from other people, so we go out of our way to see people by cooking for them and having them over. Haitians have the opposite problem; they are constantly tripping over each other. Time alone is a privilege, which was why most Haitians didn’t linger with us as we assumed they would.

Once I realized this, once I began to consider how space affects people’s interactions, I began to understand other aspects of Haitian culture that had previously mystified me. Haitians don’t have the same notion of personal space as Americans do. The other day when I was riding back from repairing a well, I was in the back of the big truck with our supplies, and we picked up about ten teachers who needed to come to the mission. They piled in, and they were all over each other. They were leaning up against each other, resting each other, and it was no big deal. If I were to rest my hand on a friend’s thigh like I saw a few Haitians do, he or she would think I was coming on to them and quickly scoot away. If I saw someone else doing it, I would assume they were dating. Yet this was totally common behavior between Haitian friends. I began to speak with a group of male teachers about soccer, and pretty soon I had about three guys within eight inches of my face. The road we were traveling along was a bumpy dirt road, so I was constantly bumping into them and they into me. I was worried that I might spit on them or head butt one if we hit a big enough bump. I am a pretty affectionate person, but I also like my own personal space. Having three people so close to me was a bit unnerving for me, but was no big deal for the Haitians.

Just as I was writing this post, I saw Jethro, one of the guys who works here, and he was listening to music on his phone. He said to me “m’renmen mizik” (I love music), so I thought it would be nice for me to bring my computer out and share some of my music with him. I sat next to him, and he immediately scooted right next to me and began to stare at my computer screen. His face was about two or three inches from my shoulder amd neck, and he was looking right at my screen. I wasn’t doing anything secretive (and he can’t speak English so even if I was it wouldn’t have mattered), but it was a little unnerving. Imagine if you sit down at a coffee house with a friend and they come right up to you and lean in to see what you are doing. It wasn’t normal for me, but after thinking about how closely packed I see the children sit when they are in school, or how tightly seated everyone is at church, it made sense to me. This wasn’t uncommon for Haitians.

Haitian culture is, and will hopefully always be, a mystery. Just when I think I understand it, something comes my way and I am totally blindsided. Discovering Haitian culture has been one of the best parts of this experience. Not only have I emerged myself in another surrounding and learned about another way of life, but I have made so many great friends in the process. I just now need to figure out how I can thank them in other ways beyond inviting them over for dinner.