Haiti - The Mountains

On the day after we'd arrived, we headed into the mountains to deliver water filters. Tom had talked to a small group of leaders in the mountains whom he was going to distribute the filters to and they would take them back to their family groups and use them. Heading into the mountains was a wild experience. The town of Verette was full of cinder block houses. The mountains was a whole other world. It was like something out of National Geographic.

Interesting thing about the mountains; Tom explained to me that the caste system in that area was composed of two things: skin color (the lighter the better) and where you were from (the mountains versus the village).  The poverty in the mountains was amazing, or I guess what looked like poverty to me.  The houses were made of mud and rocks between sticks with roofs made of either tin or other natural material.  The wood used in the houses were the tree branches used as supports.

The roads in the mountains aren't so much roads as they are paths without trees.  The roads would be 12 inches higher in one place over another, be straight up or straight down and washed out at the bottom where you'd have to get out and find rocks to fill in the wash-out so that you could pass.  You'd ford a river just to get on the road to the mountains and then from there you'd wind your way around up miles and miles of roads.  On the way up the road you'd see random cows, bulls and horses tied up along the side of the road grazing.



You pass people who would yell out for a ride up or down. Tom would stop and let them in, either inside the truck or in the back.  When they wanted out they'd tap on the side of the truck to get out (hence the term "Tap Tap" for their cabs).  Everywhere we went, no matter how remote, we'd drive through and kids would hear the truck, see Tom and come out yelling "Tom! Tom!" and the adults would wave.  Tom seemed to be thought of very highly to everyone up in the mountains.

As we drove up the mountain I was in awe of what I saw.  Not just the view, but the houses, the people, the land, the differences.  Seeing women walking up the mountain carrying a giant laundry bin on their head or a 40 lb bucket of water on their head.  It was just so different and tough to take it all in.  We stopped multiple times to let people just in the cab until it was full.  We stopped for two little kids, maybe six years old and we let them sit in the back seats on our laps, so at this point we had probably 13 people in the truck.  They'd then tap on the side of the truck and we'd let them out.

We got to a guest house at the top of the mountains expecting to see 20-30 people and instead saw hundreds.  We pulled the truck in and were immediately surrounded on all sides of the truck by people who wanted water purifiers.  In America, you'd see a mob like this if someone was giving out $100 bills or iPads, but water?  One of Tom's guys tried to organize people, but it wasn't working.



Guys had machetes and it was going to get ugly.  Tom was able to back out and we jumped in the truck and took off.  We pulled off to a distance and tried to distribute them to smaller groups, but that didn't work either.  We ended up taking down names on a list and had them come to Tom's place one by one to get the water filters.

Here's a video I filmed of some of what was going on.  I think it seemed even scarier since everything was so new to me.

On the way back down, Tom took us up to show us this beautiful view and some property where he'd eventually love to build a guest house.  As we walked into the area we heard a drum beat and walked in on this amazing worship service going on.  One of the guys with us explained that we'd walked in on a desert retreat.  We watched from a distance as the women were in this small shelter, singing beautifully, dancing and worshipping.

The following day as we drove through the mountains we saw a group of women on a porch singing and we stopped to listen.  They danced and sang, celebrating international women's day.  Echo of course joined in an danced with them.

The same evening we saw a group of guys gathered on the side of the road shouting.  Tom explained that it was a cock fight, so we stopped.  Bill wanted nothing to do with it.  Because they knew Tom, they let us in to watch.

The cock fight was more like a boxing match than a gladiator match.  Tom explained that none of the people can afford to loose a roster, so they don't let them fight to the death.  After being woken up repeatedly by roosters at 4am, I had no problem with one of them experiencing a little pain.  The people were more fascinating to watch than the fight.

We stopped at Ficilta's parents house in the mountains and got a chance to look around a little.  This was the food shed where they store the food and cook.  The smoke from the cooking fire keeps the bugs away from the food.  You can see in the second picture below how the corn is stored in the shed.

On the left is a rain water catcher.  The only problem is that it's made of clay and it looks pretty appealing to play on.  Those two things don't go together.  On the right is a mortar, who they pound the corn into flour.  Seems like a lot of work. 

As we'd headed up into the mountains, we dropped Limene off at her boyfriend's house and we all got a chance to meet him.  We tried to make it as awkward as possible for both of them.  I think the equivalent of a dad cleaning his shotgun when the boyfriend comes over is the equivalent to the Haitians cleaning their machetes.  

One of my favorite moments was riding up into the mountains while  Echo and I were riding in the back of the truck.  We drove through town, and I'd hear people yell "Echo!" as we'd drive by and the kids would wave at me because I was the white guy.  The dust was amazing and we were both getting it everywhere - eyes, mouth and hair.  I gave Echo my sunglasses to wear and he thought he looked very cool in them.  People would jump in and out of the truck to ride with us up the mountain and we would speak the small amount that we understood of the other.

I'll go into detail about some of Tom's work that I saw in the mountains in another post.

Haiti - The Country

I'd never been to a third world country for anything but a vacation. Sure, I'd driven through the nasty parts of countries, like the Bahamas, on my way to the resort. I'd seen the touristy areas off of the cruise ship ports, but never really been in a third world country.

For those of you who don't know (and I didn't know much about the place), Haiti is an island connected to the Dominican Republic on the island of Hispaniola in the Caribbean, south of the Bahamas, near Turks and Caicos. Things are in bad shape there.

Basically, the place is dirt poor and the government incredibly corrupt. They speak Creole and the population is black (is that politically correct to say that people are black?). I was told that they break it down into 25 different shades of black as part of their unofficial caste system, the darker, the better and the higher up in the caste system you are. They broke away from the French a couple hundred year ago, but they still speak french and creole and almost no english, unfortunately.

This 4 minute video does a great job in describing why Haiti is the way it is, though it leaves out some of how Voodoo fits into their plight:


As you know, there was a huge earthquake last year in Haiti that killed over 300,000 people and displaced millions people from the capital city of Port Au Prince out to the surrounding areas. There was also a big outbreak of Cholera, a disease that kills you quickly through dehydration. On the political front, past president Duvalier (aka Baby Doc) returned to Haiti January after being thrown out in 1986. He was a bad man, and it's bad news that he's back.

All that being said, things are ugly there, but I figured that before reading about my experience in Haiti, you should at least know more than I did going into the country.

Haiti - The Arrival

View Faith In Action - Verrettes, Haiti in a larger map
When we arrived into the town of Verette, it was dark and to me, a little scary.  My brain was still adjusting to what I was seeing.  Tin roof cinder block houses instead of 2 story colonials.  People of a different color, culture and language and no one that I really knew, except Bill, whom I'd had 12 hours that day to get to know him.
Bill wanted to surprise Limene (Tom's semi adopted daughter.  More on her later) .  They dropped Bill off at a neighbor's house and I showed up on my own.  I met Tom's wife Ficilta Limene and a host of other people that were there visiting.  I could tell Limene was disappointed that it was just me.

Bill walked in a few minutes later and surprised Limene and everyone was thrilled to see him.  I was taking all this in, standing there listening to everyone speak Creole, sitting around as one of the only white people in the city, seeing barbed wire on top of the wall and about everything that could be different, was different. 


Even though I couldn't understand what was being said by anyone but Tom and Bill, everyone was very welcoming.  Half of the guys were wearing red shirts and explained to Tom that it was red shirt day and how could he not know.  Tom and Ryan put their shirts on to complete the red experience.

The only thing I had that was red was my hat.  I had the chance to meet Obenes (aka le profesor) who later became my Creole teacher.  More on him later.

We sat down to a great dinner that Ficilta (Tom's wife) made and I had a chance to get to know the whole group.  The whole day went by pretty quickly but I felt incredibly welcomed by everyone I met.  I knew that this was going to be a crazy week and I sensed that I wouldn't return the same.

Haiti - The Journey

Bill and I left early Thursday morning and flew to Haiti through Fort Lauderdale. The flight to Port Au Prince was full of two kinds of people: missionaries and Haitians. The missionaries were mostly white, the Hatians black. Pretty easy to figure out who was who. You had the missionaries striking up conversations with each other, using phrases like "If I don't see you again in this life, I'll see you in the next", wearing the same bright colored shirts and even singing in the airport. Bill and I didn't do much singing, but we got to know each other during the layover in Fort Lauderdale. While boarding the flight down to Port Au Prince, they pulled us aside in line, which I figured was for additional screening. Instead, they bumped us both into first class. Kind of an ironic way to arrive in a third world country.

As we started our descent, my first impression from the air of Haiti was beautiful mountains and trees. As we got closer and closer, my jaw dropped. I saw destruction and utter poverty. I saw tents everywhere, buildings crumbled. My eyes got moist at what I saw. What I saw was some of the worst, and in my trip I got a chance to see some of the best parts as well, thanks to Tom.

We arrived in Port Au Prince and were ushered into exactly what you'd expect when you think of customs and immigration to be in a third world country. It was a warehouse they'd created due to the recent influx of relief workers. Immigration was a cursory glance and a passport stamp and at customs, the guy didn't even ask for my slip of paper declaring what I was bringing in and just waved me through.


Bill and I found our luggage and stepped outside to a million porters all looking to get a tip. Bill found a one armed man named Jackson that he recognized named Jackson who led us to Tom and Jean Rooney (after asking for $5 for him and another $5 for his buddy who had glanced at our bags at one point), waiting for us with the pick-up truck. Bill, Jean-Rooney, Tom and I drove through Port Au Prince as I sat there, trying to take in what I was seeing.

I saw UN soldiers stationed with their tanks. I saw tent cities labeled with the name and flag of the countries that had donated the tent (who would of thought that the People's Republic of China does some good in the world?) pick-up trucks loaded with 15 or more people driving down the road. Tom explained that a few weeks prior the route we were taking had been marked as dangerous due to car jackers. He told me the story of driving along this road and having guys with guns trying to stop him to take his car and probably his life. With some hollywood style driving, he was able to escape.

The road from from Port Au Prince had crazy pot holes in it, but Tom explained that this was good compared to how it had been.  We stopped in one village to get some fruit and while we weren't looking, a guy helped himself to some food in a cooler in the back of the truck.  I saw a beautiful sunset along the way as we arrived into the town of Verette at night.  

Haiti - The Pull

I was sitting in church over a year ago listening to this guy named Tom talk about the work he was doing in Haiti and how he'd ended up there. I've heard missionaries talk over the years and they all seem to be doing great things, but at the end of hearing them talk, I end up feeling bad for the people they work with and guilty that I'm not doing enough and wondering if all we're doing is putting a band-aid on the problems things. With Tom, I connected with what he was saying at a lot of levels:

• As a businessman, it made sense in terms of the return on investment of what he was doing.
• As a consultant, it made sense that he was getting to the root cause of some of the issues and addressing them in ways that would be self-sustaining
• As a person, it made sense that he wasn't doing the normal missionary plea. He got up and told his story and didn't use a lot of christianize like "blessed", "evangelize" or "conversions".

All of those things connected me and flipped a switch inside of me that said, "I want to be a part of this". Fast forward to a year later and I'd done nothing as a result of that switch being flipped. I was at an event at church in January where people had tables setup different people were talking about the ministry they were a part of. I walked up to an older guy who reminded me of Cathie's grandpa that I'd never met before and asked him what he was a part of. His name was Bill, and he was talking about Haiti.  It turns out, he and his wife were the people who'd connected Tom (the Haiti guy) to our church originally . Bil told me there was a group going down in September, and then said: "I'm going down in March. Do you want to go with me?" Before I could even think about it, my immediate answer was, "Yep, I'm in" The switch had already been flipped a year ago and I reflexively answered.

We booked our flights and got our vaccinations for malaria, hepatitis, tents, etc. My wife and I had a "get to know you" lunch with Bill and his wife to learn a little more about the plan and figure out the logistics for the trip. Seems a little strange to some that I'd agree to spend a week with a guy I'd never met in a place I'd never been. In my gut, I sensed that Bill was a good guy and it turns out I was more than right. I guess I can't discount God's pull on me around this whole Haiti thing either.

Haiti - The Pictures

Ping Pong

In 2009, Cathie's parents got Nate a ping pong table for Christmas.  For the past year, Nate and I have played ping-pong just about every day that I'm home.   We'll play rounds of best 2 out of 3 and play those sets 3 or 4 times per day.  Working out of my house, I'll play him in a quick match as a mental break.

We've both improved a lot.  I guess playing that often is bound to do something for you.  I can still beat Nate pretty consistently, but he wins at least one game per day, sometimes two in a row.

We've got odd things we say at the different scores:

• 7 - 11 - Slurpee (a conveinence story called 7/11)
• 9 to 5 - Dolly Parton (from the movie)
• 9 - 10 - Radio Disney (a radio station)
• 9 -11 - Sad Day (Get it 9/11?)
• 17 -11 - Giant Slurpee
• etc

My sister Susan made Nate a "ping-pong safety kit" for Christmas.  It consisted in gloves dipped in this stick-um stuff and a set of goggles.  Safety first!

I'm hoping someday we both get as good as Bruce Lee is in this video:

Maddie's Smile

An ode to Dave

I couldn't go on the youth group's Winterblast Retreat this weekend.  In honor of my past announcements, Maddie and her friend Jordan were kind enough to recite a poem they wrote:

Oh I love my DaddyDear
And how I miss him when he's not here
Dave is sick and note feeling well
But his wish for us is not to dwell
His decision was swift and very fast,
But he really couldn't come so he had to pass
(Jordan)
Maddie's my best friend and he's like my father
and I hope to him, I'm not such a bother
He wanted us to do these announcements for him
And before I left, he told me to break a limb (in honor of him)
We hope he'll walk in on this glorious day,
But since he's not here, we might as well pray
I love you daddy!
Get well soon Dave!

My PizzaPopolis Complex Explained

Reason #1046 I'm proud of my Dad

My Dad's friend Bakar (the muslim Somalian refugee I'd blogged about eaerlier) stopped by and got a chance to meet the family. You'll notice in this shirt that my Dad is wearing a shirt that says, "I'm Awesome". Now normally in the Kurt family we would joke and mock anyone wearing this shirt. Heck, we'd mock the pope for wearing his silly hat. Before you mock, here's the story behind the shirt.

As I'd mentioned in the other post, my Dad has helped Bakar since he came to this country as a refugee with nothing. He's worked with him to get a job, his first car, cell phone, helped him get Cochlear implants (Bakar is deaf) and braces.

My Dad uses the same skills that made him great at his job to help Bakar make it in America. What would the middle east conflict look like today if Muslims saw Americans giving and helping sleflessly? My Dad is living out what Jesus calls us to by helping the poor and hurting.

Bakar got this shirt for my Dad because this is the best way to express the way he feels about my Dad. He simply thinks my Dad is awesome and thought that this shirt was the best way to express it. Can you blame him? My Dad wears this shirt proudly, and he should. We're all proud of him.

Usher Trip

To celebrate our 18th anniversary, I got Cathie tickets to see Usher in St. Louis.  Why St. Louis?  Because it was recently voted the most violent city in the US?  Maybe... Or... Some buddies of mine down there have connections to get great seats to some of the R & B shows.  Jon and Beth watched the kids for us and we flew out on Friday morning to St. Louis.  Trips like these almost make my travel worthwhile, as we were able to use hotel and flight points to basically make the trip for nothing.

We were picked up by my friend's driver, in their sweet party bus:


We stayed at the St. Louis Downtown Hilton, right across from the Arch.  The manager at the Hilton was kind enough to send us a bottle of champagne in celebration of our anniversary.  Diamond status has it's privileges.

It was freezing cold when we got to St. Louis, so Cathie needed a slightly different outfit.  We walked to the closest clothes store to our hotel to get a new outfit.  The only type of clothes shopping I like to do with my wife is for lingerie (for her) and to pick out something to wear  to an R&B concert.  We passed on this vest for some reason:

We had dinner at Lombardo's and then headed over to the concert to see Usher.

I was clearly in the minority in the concert, as it consisted of 95% women.  It's not my style of music, but I enjoyed the fact that Cathie enjoyed herself.  Miguel opened the show, followed by Trey Songz and then Usher.  I was impressed that Usher can dance ever better than I can.

Here's a quick video synopsis of the concert as seen from my iPhone. We'll see how long YouTube lets me keep it online without editing out the audio due to copyright restrictions:


The girls sitting next to us explained that Washington Ave was the place to go hang out after the concert, so we walked over there and went to the bar.  The first bar we went to we were twice the age of everyone in the bar, so we decided the that the hotel bar was more our speed.

The next morning we slept in.  I ran up to get Cathie a latte and bagel from Panera, but we didn't get out of bed until about 3pm.  We sat around and watched the MSU football game until it was time to head to our Couples Spa Retreat at the four-seasons hotel.


The massages were amazing, and we hung out in the steam room afterwards.  We met up later that evening with a friend of mine that I used to work with, Michelle, who Cathie had gotten to know through Facebook.  She took us out to Sub Zero, a sushi & vodka bar. Michelle has been managing a country music singer, Johnny Henry, and we had the chance to hear his music and meet him that evening.  It was a fun night.

We were picked up the following morning at the crack of dawn and made it back home early.  We met my brother Jon half way in Grand Ledge to pick up three kids who had missed their Mom and Dad a lot:

Thanks again to Jon and Beth for watching the kids, and everyone else who helped out, including Cathy Hannigan & Kevin and Susan!

Amusing things I saw in London

Was this phone ad campaign designed by Will Ferrel? Sounds like it came out of Anchorman.


Why would I want to use a disabled toilet?  I want one that works.


It was this sign that led to the story of Monkey Hangers


This picture was on the front of a recycling bin.  No idea how the shorts on top of the jeans link to recycling.

If you buy a bunch of tea-bags, you get a free monkey.  Wow was I upset when I saw that it was only a stuffed monkey.


Nothing like Coca-Cola with Vegetable Extracts..

Trip to London

I had the chance to head to London for work.  I went out early and stayed at my friend Ben's house in Wandsworth right outside of downtown London. I'd met Ben at a Xerox leadership class in 2004 out in Colorado Springs and we stayed connected over the years.  My flight got in about 8am and my car service took me over to Ben's house, or so I thought.  It actually took me to the wrong place.  In true British fashion, the woman was wonderfully polite when I showed up at her house, with my suitcase early in the morning, and told me there was no Ben there.

I got to Ben's house and we went for a 'proper english breakfast', complete with blood pudding, bangers and mash, tomatos, beans, fries and deep fried toast. The common denominator was that everything had lots of grease and filled you up for your trip to the pub.

After breakfast, we hit the local pub to watch the big rugby match, England vs. Australia.  I've never seen a rugby match.  Ever.  The Patriots and Broncos had just played at Wembley arena the week before, and I had to hear over and over about how slow our american football is.  After watching Rugby, I agreed.  They basically play 80 minutes straight.  No pads, and at least as brutal.  The players are all either tight ends or D-backs.  Big, fast guys who take a beating.  There were some great rivalries in the pub, between countries instead of colleges or teams.  Ben gave up going to this match in order to hang with me.. Nice.

I was amused at all of the little things in town, including the Humped Zebra Crossing.

My friend Ben was kind enough to make up random facts as he took me through town, showing me where the cover of Abbey Road picture was taken, and where Eric Clapton was born.  I did learn a great story about Monkey Hangers.

Ben, Kat and I headed home and watched some quality British TV, including 'The X Factor' and a documentary on one of their boy bands 'Take That'.  Being on a completely different sleep schedule, I got up early and walked downtown.  There were stands setup all over with pastries and I couldn't decide on one, so I got a bunch: all of them fantastic.

We watched the Rememberence Day ceremony Later that morning, our equivalent of Veterans Day, but a whole new level of symbolism.   Ben and I headed out to the market to pick up the makings of a 'proper english roast' so that I could experience a 'proper english sunday'.  The meal was great.  I'd never had parsnips, and would be ok with never having them again.  Over dinner, I was able to get Ben and Kat to record some video for Maddie to work on her British (not English) accent.  Ben made sure that we had 'Spotted Dick' for dessert.  He'd never had it, but made sure that I didn't leave England without it.

I had a great time with Ben and his roommate Kat.  The highlight for me was NOT sightseeing, but instead of getting a taste of the local culture, the pubs, the market, tv and people.  The hospitality was wonderful, and it was a great time.

I headed out that evening to my work event.  Traffic in England is a whole new deal.  Half of the roads aren't wide enough to fit two cars, all of them driving on the left at breakneck speeds.  There are no cops to worry about for speeding, because the cameras track everyone's driving and just send you a ticket for speeding or running red lights in the mail.

The President's Forum I went to was fantastic.  They took 14 of us from around the world and put us in a room together with our executive management team.  The executive team presented out to us on our corporate strategy, career planning and leadership.

They had us workshop a number of issues and report back to management on some of the solutions.  These classes are great for connecting within people in the company and getting visibility in front of our leadership team.

They took us into London one night for fish and chips and a bus tour.  The fish and chips were mediocre at best, maybe because I was car sick after being in a bus for 3 hours.  On Tuesday night, after the class was done, we headed to our hotel over by Heathrow and took the train into town.

We walked for miles and saw 5% of the downtown area, including Buckingham Palace, Westminster Cathederal, Churchill's war room and more. Downtown was still decorated with the poppy wreaths from the remembrance day ceremony.   I got to see the Cenotaph, which if you listen to Pink Floyd, you'd heard of on The Final Cut.

I flew back on Wednesday morning out of Heathrow and got in around noon.  I felt like I had been hit by a truck with the time change.  It was great to be back home and back in my own culture and country.