Haiti is a tough place

I am currently back in Haiti to do an assessment on violence against women in elections (VAWIE). Conducting an assessment means millions upon millions of meetings. I have been meeting from sun up to well past sun down and have a ton of information that I have to sort through. Except I can’t because in a short while, I have to go for more meetings. Today’s meetings start at 8am and end at 5pm. With the heat and humidity, I am reduced to nothing by the end of the day.

However, I would be so sad not to blog once. I would love to take a moment and try to describe Haiti. This would take a lot more time. Instead, I’ll sum it (Princess Bride!)

Whenever I am not in Haiti, I always say, “Haiti is one of the most difficult places I have ever been to. I think Haiti is right up there or not too far from South Sudan.” South Sudan! I think I am being dramatic, and then when I return, my pithy summary does not do justice to this complex and catastrophic place.

Because I have been meeting so many people, I now have absolute clarity about how true that statement is. I don’t have time to unpack it though, so I will tell one story.

We arrived at a Ministry which I won’t name. We had two meetings scheduled. One with the Secretary General of the Minister and one with the Minister herself. We were escorted to a waiting room and then the Secretary General came and got us and moved us to her office, which was outside this main building, in the back of the compound. We crammed in (4 of us, including our interpreter Edwich.)

After introductions and protocols, she began to answer my questions. She started with “Violence is everywhere in Haiti,” which is how everyone begins talking when I ask my first question. She told us that every Monday between 30- 45 survivors of sexual violence come to the Minstry for service. The Ministry!

We continued talking and then were interrupted when the Minister herself came in. Ana, my colleague, and I were like, “wait, that’s the Minister? Why is she coming to get us? She walked all the way here? Huh.”

Once we get to the Minister’s office, we make introductions and then she starts telling us about her work. It was all fluff. She kept saying she had a vision and that we all needed to follow it, but didn’t say what that vision was. A few minutes into it she starts complaining about the other woman to us and how she should not have met with us before the Minister met with us. It got awkward. I asked Edwich to stop translating at one point. We talked a little longer and then the other woman walked us out. The Minister smiled and shook our hands.

A few hours later, we met my other colleague at another Ministry and she told us that the Minister we met with in the morning was extremely angry that we met the other woman first. Huh? She was on a rampage and as a result of her wrath and our disobedience of protocol (huh?) she was pulling all of the participants for our two day meeting that was starting the next day. Wait, huh?

Our team in Haiti explained to us that they absolutely followed protocol and asked for a meeting with the Minister and that it was her office that scheduled the meetings the way they did.

I won’t go into all the details, but in sum, apparently she’s known for her “personality” and apparently she and this SG have been battling during her short and fiery tenure. For me, this is emblematic of the failure of governance in Haiti. This woman lost it over a misstep in protocol (made by her office) and not only couldn’t let it go, but then, with furious vengeance, made her best effort to torpedo the rest of our visit.

It doesn’t torpedo it. What it does do is tell us that we’ve lost a vital partner and that Haiti has lost yet another opportunity for good leadership and on such a critical issue.

So it’s a minor incident in Haiti, a minor one for us, but it is unfortunately indicative of the one step forward, two steps back approach to democracy that plagues the country, along with extreme poverty and violence.

This is a tough place.

The CEC

Anxiety over how exactly to draft a gender policy with the Central Election Commission of Georgia  has been forefront in my mind as I prepared for this trip. "With" was where it all collapsed. How does one write with others full stop let alone with government officials?

Day two with the election commission and we have done pretty well actually. A diehard NGO-er at heart, I planned the first day for a mix of training, consultations with civil society and listening (on the part of me) to the CEC's priorities.

I was given a tip just before I left that I should present them with a draft and have them wordsmith and translate to Georgian rather than show up with a blank slate. This turned out to be a key tip.

At the end of day one I went back to the hotel and took the boilerplate gender policy I had (of course I had it, I'm a gender and elections specialist) and tweaked it to points made in my listening sessions and added in Georgia-unique points.

Voila! Or at least as we tucked into drafting this morning I was met with very little resistance. We made it through the introduction, weaving in Georgian history lessons (for me) and gender equality missives (for them).

We went through the guiding principles section, getting stuck on "affirmative action strategies" as controversial and likely to meet resistance from the broader group. I agreed and changed it, but refusing to equivocate on "discrimination." It is god damn discrimination!

I didn't say it like that.

So, it turns out drafting with is not so difficult if you have a game plan. Such is life.

Post script: Because everyone was feeling good about our progress I was let go early. With this time I went to a local craft market, bought some jewelry AND a painting, but resisted the kitsch (although those interlocking kissing coffee mugs were tempting). I ventured out for dinner and wound up in a heavenly, absolutely heavenly restaurant, Sabatono, where the wine on tap was divine, the trout with walnut sauce was lovely and the sauteéd mushrooms were delicious. I love a foodie town.

Georgia on my mind

In the pouring rain, I headed out onto the not-mean-at-all streets of Tbilisi, Georgia. As anywhere when it's raining, it's hard not to judge the town by its temporarily slick streets and dreary pall. But I'm trying.

I found the restaurant recommended by the receptionist at the Tbilisi Marriott and although it was cafeteria style, the menu had all of the items Hayden and others have made me promise to eat.

I'm trying to get a handle on the place, something travelers do moments after landing anywhere. I have not been to this part of the world. It reminds me of Austria and Turkey mixed together. I suppose that's due to the geography. If I had ever been to Russia it would probably be more like that. But I have never been to Russia.

Smoking is a big thing here. I have been warned to schedule lots of smoke breaks in my meetings this week. People light up in restaurants. Waitresses change ashtrays. I remember when that was a thing. So glad we are post-smoking in the US.

As I navigated puddles, I was trying to figure out if the Georgian style architecture that prides people here is related to the Georgian style doors of Ireland. I have just embarrassed myself writing this. The answer is no. I should have known it when I was looking around and thought, "I don't see a relationship between styles." But it took writing this to remember that "Georgian" in Ireland is after King George. Sigh.

I ate a delicious eggplant and walnut paste dish (not mentioned by Hayden) that made me so happy. Eggplant is a dish that is so wonderful when cooked right and so terrible when cooked wrong. I have not been able to cook eggplant.

I drank a dark house special beer that has the weirdest taste. It looks like Guinness without the head, but has a sweet taste; not too sweet but surprisingly fruity. I can't think of an equivalent.

I spied another person on Metekhi bridge, taking photos in the rain. I felt a little silly, especially as I awkwardly set down the ginormous Marriott umbrella to indiscreetly photograph with my iPhone. But hey, the rest of my time here will be in a likely windowless room with election commissioners.

So when in rainy Tbilisi...