I Am Scared of Earthquakes

Leogane is stinking hot, with squelching humidity and a blaring sun that sucks the life out of you. After sunrise you can’t sleep because it’s too uncomfortable to lie in the greenhouse your tent has become and as soon as you get up you start to wilt in the heat. Exposed skin starts to prickle and sweat pops out of every pore. If you put sun cream on it washes off after 5 minutes, even in the shade, because you’re too wet for it to soak in, and by lunch time you’re drenched down to your underpants, literally. If you are hungover your head feels stuffed full of cement mix and your whole body aches. Any hydration your body had was leached out of you while you slept. Your mattress is soaked and the tent reeks of dank sweat rancid man smell. This is derived from the alluring scent of male pheromones (err..) and sweat, soaked into a dirty singlet and left to ferment for 48 hours in a tent with no ventilation and an ambient temperature of 45C. At any rate you feel crusty because even though you’ve taken the fly off, exposing the tent to the night air, there is no wind at all and you’ve woken up every 20 minutes to slide around your mattress in an attempt to find a comfortable way to lie. The only way to sleep in this heat is on your back, spreadeagle, nude or maybe in briefs, because people can see right in since the fly is off. That doesn’t bother me but out of courtesy to others I wear undies most nights. I am down to three undies from five-one pair lost in transit somewhere and another due to an unfortunate case of follow through on a demolition job on my second day. Oops.

During the day dogs walk across the road and slump down on their haunches in the middle, to lazy to get to the other side. Haitians sit around under improvised awnings made of sticks and bed sheets, on the side of the road, or on the verandas of the few buildings still standing and play board games or do chores. Many of them look at the crazy white people slaving away in the middle of the day and shake their heads in wonder. They think we’re crazy, but I think they’re lazy, you be the judge. Some of them sit around drinking rum from small bottles. Some Haitian guys offered me a swig of theirs today while I was hammering away-Haitian rum is 43% alcohol and at 35C-it’s wasn’t delicious. Another guy from Texas did the same and was vomiting in the gutter a few minutes later-what a weapon. It’s not just the temperature that’s the real killer but the humidity, and the physical work that we spend our time doing. At lunch after four hours in the sun when I wring my socks out the sweat drips onto the ground like I’m squeezing a dishrag. My body sweat runs down my legs and into my socks. I’ve been told I’m a disgusting human being but I’m not so sure. Anyway, the heat is one of the striking features of this place, along with the dust, poverty and destruction all around (and rum).

Until today.

At 4.30pm the clouds rolled in, the wind picked up and the sun disappeared early. It hasn’t rained here for a month but it really opened up tonight. From the first drops, which created little dust clouds on the road until the end of the downpour when the stars popped out again was only about an hour, and it was still dry outside when the first lightning hit, right outside the compound. Then the sky collapsed, there was constant lightning and you couldn’t speak for the deafening crash of thunder. Within minutes the entire central courtyard of the base was flooded, about 3 inches deep in water. A few people used the storm as a chance to pair off and run to a tent for some romance, confidant they could be as noisy as they wanted and for once nobody would hear them Something about rain after a long dry spell makes people act weird and before long everyone was running around fully clothed in the deluge, soaked to the skin. I considered getting nude but some people here are pretty conservative and it’s best not to offend. Other people were using it to wash (without a bucket for once), others sliding around like kids, it was bizarre. Charlie fell over and cracked his head which dampened spirits a bit (couldn’t resist) and then the wind hit.

It was really pouring, a typical thunderstorm with thunder, lightning, the whole set up. I’d gone up top to close Simons tent (Simon is a foul mouthed Scotsman who is one of my best mates around here) and my own, but forgot to close mine so had to race up halfway through the storm to zip it up, discovering it had collapsed. Still waterproof though so I jumped inside, I was prepared to stay with the tent all night to save it and the contents. Apart from the flimsy poles which kept buckling, I had anchored it well so it stayed dry and intact. Once the storm passed I hung out the few things that had got wet and took the fly off and for the first time since I got here, I had to use my sleeping bag at night, because it actually got cool-it was great.

The storm was a nice prelude to other events that made me realise that life is full of choices. Tea or coffee, Playstation or Xbox, stay at boring job or go overseas etc.

In Leogane I get to choose between zipping my tent closed to keep the mozzies out, or leaving it open so I can get out when there are earthquakes. I don’t know what the point of getting out is since I’m still stuck on a roof 30 feet of the ground with no exit route whatsoever. At any rate the mozzie won’t kill me (unless he gives me malaria and even then…) or even bite me very often but he buzzes past my ear all the time so I keep the tent closed. I even slept through a small aftershock once and was only woken up by the screaming from the people in the bunks downstairs.

Tonight there was a tremor, and it was the first big aftershock I’ve really experienced since I got here. It was midnight and I was fast asleep and I woke up to my tent shaking and air mattress bouncing. There was rapid vibrant banging as the bunks downstairs frantically started swinging into each other and the whole earth was moving as if a giant jackhammer was pounding into it. It’s like the world is a pot of water on a stove and the surface is the lid which starts to suddenly jump around when the water hit’s boiling point. It usually takes me 4 hours to really wake up, but I knew I was in an earthquake about one millionth of a second after my eyes opened and to be honest it completely scared the living shit out of me! I was terrified, and I couldn’t open my fucking tent zipper. FUCK.

Holy shit, I thought, I’m going to die in a $32 Walmart tent in Haiti. Dying in a tent just seems to shite for words, something a fat, uncoordinated, asthmatic, androgynous 36 year old virgin would do, it doesn‘t appeal to me at all! Just as I was about to rip the zip off entirely it came undone and I burst out onto the roof. Usually it takes me 2 minutes to unfold from inside my tent. In reality I was stuck for about three seconds but when your brain is really in imminent-death mode it works much, much faster than normal and three seconds is really 30. I experienced that once before, flying through the air in the moment immediately after launching over the handlebars on my motorbike, but preceding the moment I hit the ground. Ah clarity and reasoning, why aren’t you always with me!?

Anyway it’s pretty interesting experiencing an earthquake for the first time. We were told this morning that it was only a 4.0 so apparently I am a coward and was scared for nothing, I’m glad I didn’t scream. I thought about it…just kidding. Some girls downstairs slept through the whole thing…but I found out later they were drunk, which is cheating really. The first tremor we had when I got here (which I slept through) was a 6.0, but I guess it depends where the epicentre is and if you’re awake for it.

My heart rate went from a standing start to completely off the chart by the time I’d removed myself from the tent. The night, which had been silent, erupted in noise as every dog, cat, cow, goat, duck, turkey and chicken panicked and started making their respective noises into the night and for once I didn’t resent them for it. It took a few minutes to relax enough to go back to sleep but it’s good to be able to say I’ve popped my earthquake cherry. I fully understand now why the locals live in tents on the road even if their house appears intact.

In all an eventful couple of days.