I experience what I believe to be a great irony: I often indulge (what I think of as the great,) need to carefully and consistently consider the consequences of actions in order to project my sight as far into the future as possible; the irony being (or perhaps compensation,) stemming from my inability to see physically far at all without the assistance of my glasses. In this brief update as to what I've done the last few weeks, I wanted to discuss the importance of impact, but after some reflection, I've decided rather on vision. So, without further ado, let's begin.
As I mentioned in my last post, I've been working with the Water Team on making repairs to the water system and traveling to more remote villages where CEDC has worked in the past. A little over a week ago I boarded a kannòt (canoe) and embarked (see that?) on a twenty-minute ferry across Lake Peligré (history on that in the next post) to visit a village where previous interns worked on a water system. Accompanied by Colón, Gregg, Sadrack, and Hermane (a man from the village who works consistently to improve life there,) we followed a process similar to when I first arrived in Cangé, in which we walked (climbed) the system from end to end evaluating what can be improved and what needs to be repaired. As a consequence of not being able to actually see into the future, we plan with an accounting in mind of possible scenarios when selecting a course of action in response to a situation, however, even good design and planning are undermined at times by external and unforeseen factors. It was with deep regret, I made notes while walking the system of the many sections of the system in need of repair. After making our way to the source for the water system, we descended a short way back down the mountain to where the village proper is; a silver lining found in that the parts of the system there are in excellent condition. After descending back down to the shoreline, we discussed what could be done to help the village.
Back in Cangé, we've experienced a great leap in optimizing and repairing deficits in our system. I'll begin with a short description of our water distribution: after the water pumped from Bas Cangé has been filtered and passes through the chlorinator (for an additional step of purification,) the water is stored in a network of cisterns. All of the water is pumped to the (aptly named) Summit Cistern. Afterward, water for the Partners in Health campus is stored in two other cisterns named for a Partners In Health co-founder, Tom White, and Jackie Williams, who has contributed greatly to the community with the co-founding and management of the Artisan Center (Sant Art) in Cangé, respectively. The water delivered to the fountains in the village itself (with the exception of Rezima, the fountain closest to Summit Cistern,) is stored in the Village Cistern. Each of these cisterns have their flows managed by ball valves. These valves are in chambers next to the cisterns. Village Cistern's valve chamber is just downslope from crops of a family that lives next to the cistern. As such, water (as is its tendency) travels downward and toward the chamber, which has a slit in the door to accommodate a standing pipe connected for the management of air pressure. Colón showed me that dirty water (as a result of the water flowing from the crops accumulating earth and rocks as it moved downhill,) was entering the chamber with some passing into the piping due to a compromise at the tee connection of the standing pipe with the water line. We determined that the best of course of action to solve this problem was to remove the standing pipe, cut the end, and re-thread it, as well as raising the height of the chamber with cement blocks in order to prevent runoff from entering in the future. We completed the new chamber this afternoon, and with the first rain in a few days falling earlier around dinner time, we'll see how the new chamber is faring quickly.
Those are the major updates since last time. Next week will see my travel to the village of LaChapelle in the neighboring Artibonite départment, but now, picture time:
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| This is the fountain closest to the shore when you cross the lake. As I approached it, Hermane told me that no water is flowing from it and hasn't for a while. The reason as to why the fountain had no water was immediately clear as we continued the walk along the system; which had piping split in several places along the path with water spilling onto the ground at the sections with uninterrupted connection to the water sources. In addition to repairing the what's damaged, the development of companion preventative measures will be crucial going forward. |
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| This is the new cement block box for Village Cistern's chamber, nearly complete before replacement of the door. It may look low, but the box is actually five levels of block tall, in addition to making the surrounding ground more level to further divert runoff in the future. In keeping with vision, this is a solution we're confident will last for some time. |
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| Often, in the name of progress, there are casualties. In this case, a pair of my shorts. After making the necessary repairs to the piping yesterday, but while waiting for a delivery of sand to mix the mortar, we cleaned the inside of the cistern. over the course of climbing atop the cistern to the access hatches, what was a small hole became a tear; and following the tear was a near complete split the length of my thigh. Not before a healthy amount of laughter, Colón suggested that I take them to Jackie and maybe the talented folk at Sant Art could mend them for me. Although, I think this may be the end of the road for this particular pair and perhaps time that they *rest in peace.* Following the split, I found myself instantaneously reminded of an iconic cartoon character who was once in a similar situation... (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BQF0EFToYB0) |
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| Just before we made our way back across the lake, we decided climbing mountains and evaluating water systems was hungry work. We were fortunate to pass a home with particularly fruitful mango trees whose owner graciously allowed us to take as many as we could carry. During the roughly twenty minute ferry, we divided the twenty or so mangos we had. At the time of our disembarkation, two saw the journey completed. |
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| I took this picture just before we crossed the lake the first time. It was around nine o'clock and the angle of the sun made for a rather picturesque scene. What I couldn't see from my vantage point admiring this view through a camera lens was the copious trash floating on the surface of the lake. Here's why I wanted to end with this picture: Musing in the canoe astonished at the volume of trash I saw, I realized two things: the first being that often when there is something so much bigger than ourselves before us, it is difficult to see past the surface upon that which we are looking. We miss details until that picture is scrutinized, and it is only then that we understand the impact and repercussions of previous actions. The second thing was the impact of singular actions. In the United States, we heavily (though less so than other countries) prioritize proper waste management. Although, many people underestimate the effect produced by the improper disposal of their trash. We have prevalent municipal waste management, as well as good samaritans who will clean the trash of others in the interest of the environment. In Haiti, it isn't typically part of the frame of mind what happens to something after it ceases being useful or functioning as intended. As a result, trash builds along roads, and at times, makes its way to the natural environment. While trash is a real problem in Haiti, my discussion of it here is allegorical for this purpose: no action is so small or insignificant that it does not produce a ripple. The sum of many "insignificant" actions accumulates into something much larger than its individual parts. I found the thought an important one to consider in ponderance humanitarian work, this subject being the very reason for my tenure as Project Management Intern. |
