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melissa_427's review against another edition
4.0
Amy Wilentz covers a lot of history, astute observations regarding disaster relief and the odd characters drawn to such situations and those specifically drawn to Haiti. This is the type of reading I recall falling in love with while a student at university. It makes me question everything from my own current government, to historical revolutions, to cultural differences and to my own motivations to travel to such a place (as we are soon doing). Haiti's story always seems so complicated, but Wilentz presents the story in a way that feels raw, authentic and somehow balanced - reminding the reader (ironically) that perhaps Haitians should be the ones to tell their stories and tackle their dilemmas.
I will carry many stories with me, but a few passages really stuck out:
"There is barely a moment in all Haitian history that has no relation to the United States. Haiti is like a fifty- first state, a shadow state, one that the United States wants to keep hidden in the attic and bears all the scars of the two countries' painful twinned narrative. " pg. 12
"But the fire was still in him [Frederick Douglass]. Standing there before the alter in the recently built church, he unloosed a blistering cannonade against American mercenaries who were busy fomenting internecine battles in Haiti, and told his receptive audience that the United States had "not yet forgiven Haiti for being black. " His words ring out from Chicago to this day. " pg. 90
"The Haitian Revolution was one of three defining revolutions of the 1700s, and as much as the American and French Revolutions, it has shaped the world we live in. It destroyed the era's economy of slave capitalism; it wrecked the global ruling powers' [desires] of eternal colonialism. The Haitian Revolution, outcome of the fervor and intelligence of so many unlettered and enslaved Fred Voodoos, anonymous but valiant warriors, also extended the ideas of the Rights of Man to all men and women; and it suggested the concept of labor rights that was later expanded on in Europe and, eventually, the whole world. It distracted Napoleon and forced him to sell the Louisiana Territory to the Americans, thereby turning the United States into a continental power. In addition, the slaves triumph in Haiti limited France's future economic power and ironically made an opening in the global economy for the rising United States, which was still the beneficiary of its own unpaid slave labor force. " pg. 91
"No one should co-opt someone else's pain. My rule is, don't be full of pity and charity. Don't feel sorry for them, rule number one. Be glad you're not in their situation, but don't pity. Their pain is theirs, and, in disasters and destroyed places, their pain and their survival are sometimes even important aspects of their identity. Don't pretend it's your story. Don't bee an occupier of their narrative; don't be an imperialist in their lives; don't colonize their victimization. " pg. 210
I will carry many stories with me, but a few passages really stuck out:
"There is barely a moment in all Haitian history that has no relation to the United States. Haiti is like a fifty- first state, a shadow state, one that the United States wants to keep hidden in the attic and bears all the scars of the two countries' painful twinned narrative. " pg. 12
"But the fire was still in him [Frederick Douglass]. Standing there before the alter in the recently built church, he unloosed a blistering cannonade against American mercenaries who were busy fomenting internecine battles in Haiti, and told his receptive audience that the United States had "not yet forgiven Haiti for being black. " His words ring out from Chicago to this day. " pg. 90
"The Haitian Revolution was one of three defining revolutions of the 1700s, and as much as the American and French Revolutions, it has shaped the world we live in. It destroyed the era's economy of slave capitalism; it wrecked the global ruling powers' [desires] of eternal colonialism. The Haitian Revolution, outcome of the fervor and intelligence of so many unlettered and enslaved Fred Voodoos, anonymous but valiant warriors, also extended the ideas of the Rights of Man to all men and women; and it suggested the concept of labor rights that was later expanded on in Europe and, eventually, the whole world. It distracted Napoleon and forced him to sell the Louisiana Territory to the Americans, thereby turning the United States into a continental power. In addition, the slaves triumph in Haiti limited France's future economic power and ironically made an opening in the global economy for the rising United States, which was still the beneficiary of its own unpaid slave labor force. " pg. 91
"No one should co-opt someone else's pain. My rule is, don't be full of pity and charity. Don't feel sorry for them, rule number one. Be glad you're not in their situation, but don't pity. Their pain is theirs, and, in disasters and destroyed places, their pain and their survival are sometimes even important aspects of their identity. Don't pretend it's your story. Don't bee an occupier of their narrative; don't be an imperialist in their lives; don't colonize their victimization. " pg. 210
stevienlcf's review against another edition
4.0
Amy Wilentz has been reporting on Haiti since 1986, immediately before Jean-Claude Duvailier “Baby Doc” fled the country. She knew Aristide when he was just a shantytown priest. Wilentz reluctantly returned to Haiti shortly after the devastating 2010 earthquake, and this work of literary journalism exposes the ugly underbelly of the international aid machinery (most of the $1.6 billion pledged by the United States in relief was given back to U.S. entities, such as Homeland Security, Health and Human Services, etc.), her impatience with the “disaster newbies” with their “salvation fantasies,” the humanitarian workers who enjoy big cars and nice apartments as part of the job, and the celebrities (Oprah, Anderson Cooper and Donna Karan) who adhere to the maxim coined by one Haitian urban planner that “a disaster is a terrible thing to waste.” Wilentz herself does not go unscathed in this admittedly jaundiced report. She acknowledges that she has profited from the continuing human tragedy since a large portion of her income has been derived from reporting on Haiti in the aftermath of the earthquake. Wilentz reserves her praise for the doctors and health care workers who offer an immediate, life-saving and life-changing effect, especially the dedicated doctor Megan Coffee who has been treating tuberculous patients for over two years. Interspersed with vignettes of contemporary life in Haiti, Wilentz offers a lucid summary of Haiti’s past (it staged the only successful slave revolt, it was the first black republic), the long history of meddling outsiders, and the corruption and the lack of a serious government that continues to plague the country today. Wilentz brings all of her formidable gifts as a reporter to this acerbic and probing report on a country for which she clearly has much affection.
kfreedman's review against another edition
The writer is almost painfully self aware of being a white woman in Haiti… reminds me of me! She discusses a lot of the complicated issues around international aid groups and the disasters of the earthquake and some of her friends in Haiti.
trutiffany's review against another edition
3.0
This book presented one journalist's look at Haiti over the years. Wilentz manages to paint pictures of scenes from Haiti - from before and after the earthquake - allowing the reader to enter into the country without previous knowledge necessary. Though a journalist, this book is very subjective and focuses on "characters" in play in Haiti. These characters make multiple appearances throughout the book, though the book does not seem to follow a cohesive pattern.
Overall, this book was enjoyable for me to see through the eyes of another person a country that is often talked about.
Overall, this book was enjoyable for me to see through the eyes of another person a country that is often talked about.
bgg616's review against another edition
5.0
Who is Fred Voodoo? Fred Voodoo is a term invented by foreign journalists to mean “the (Haitian) man (woman) on the street”. It reflects a condescending view of Haitians. But Haitians know that, and they almost always beat foreigners at their own game, which the author Wilentz describes repeatedly in the book. In Haiti, every Haitian looks for his/her own “white man” (who can be a women) as a matter of survival. But the author contends that foreigners are equally dependent on Haitians to make them into do-gooders, and that the “white man” can be any foreigner, regardless of race.
Should Haiti be called a “developing country”? The substitution of the more politically correct “developing country” for “third world” may obscure the myriad ways in which countries like Haiti are underdeveloped. I am not an expert in international development. Despite this, I have been exposed to the theories, been in meetings at The World Bank, the Organization of American States, and the International Development Bank. More than anything, I have been struck by the huge contradictions at play – the grandness of these international institutions in Washington DC that exist to help the Global South grow their economies. What a contrast between these centers of power and the extreme neediness of the poorest nations on earth, and the most disenfranchised citizens on our planet. Less than a decade before I moved to the Washington DC area, I lived in Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic, where there were frequent strikes and riots against the latest imposed price increases ordered by the International Monetary Fund. I saw it through the eyes of my ex-husband and his extended family and in how these manipulations were making life harder for all of them, working class and poor people. In 1999, I lived in southern Brazil, and although I worked in education, the talk of the impact of neo-liberalism was part of daily discourse. So my perception of “development” work has certainly been shaped by observing the other side of it, and first learning about it from the recipients rather than the "do gooders".
Many residents of the Global North – Americans, Europeans, Canadians – genuinely want to “make the world a better place”. What could be wrong with that? Wilentz’s book is an excoriating account of the impact of foreign do-gooders on Haiti. She describes how much harm is done, and how the condition of Haiti and its people deteriorate while huge amounts of money and profits are involved. One example she gives is the story of an American woman and her Haitian husband who try to build housing in a rural area after the earthquake. They end up buying the land they are building on three or four separate times, due to the lack of clear ownership. After two years, trying to build, they give up. After the earthquake, many worthless parcels of land owned by wealthy Haitians were sold for many times what they were worth. Disaster became a huge economic opportunity for "the haves". The Haitian have-nots already knew how it would all shake out.
Wilentz is also critical of herself, questioning her own involvement in Haiti for decades. She is fluent in Kreyol and has a deep affection for the people. She tells an account of a day spent with Haitian friends during her early days in Haiti, when she declared she loved Haiti. One of her friends then said that then she would gladly trade passports with Wilentz and leave Haiti to live in the US, and Wilentz could stay in Haiti. Wilentz does praise some genuinely good efforts – Dr. Paul Farmer and Partners in Health, and a Massachusetts doctor names Megan Coffee who has spent a couple of years in Haiti caring for TB patients for no pay, depending on the charity of others for food, shelter, wifi and an iPhone. She describes a business, Digitel, a cell phone provider, which has actually managed to change life in Haiti for the better, as Haitians, for the first time, have cheap access to phones and everything that access brings. She gives Sean Penn mixed reviews but by the end of the book seems to have decided he is genuine, though she is still not quite sure why he is in Haiti.
One of the most telling segments in the book was the following:
"The fault (for instability in Haiti) is not with the ignorant many, but with the educated and ambitious few. Too proud to work, and not disposed to go into commerce, they make politics a business of their country. Governed neither by love or mercy for their country, they care not into what depths she may be plunged. No president, however virtuous, wise and patriotic, ever suits them …."
From a lecture in Chicago in 1893 by Frederick Douglass, Ambassador to Haiti. One hundred and twenty years later, the haves still prevent Haiti from being what she could be, and Haiti remains one of the poorest countries in the world.
Should Haiti be called a “developing country”? The substitution of the more politically correct “developing country” for “third world” may obscure the myriad ways in which countries like Haiti are underdeveloped. I am not an expert in international development. Despite this, I have been exposed to the theories, been in meetings at The World Bank, the Organization of American States, and the International Development Bank. More than anything, I have been struck by the huge contradictions at play – the grandness of these international institutions in Washington DC that exist to help the Global South grow their economies. What a contrast between these centers of power and the extreme neediness of the poorest nations on earth, and the most disenfranchised citizens on our planet. Less than a decade before I moved to the Washington DC area, I lived in Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic, where there were frequent strikes and riots against the latest imposed price increases ordered by the International Monetary Fund. I saw it through the eyes of my ex-husband and his extended family and in how these manipulations were making life harder for all of them, working class and poor people. In 1999, I lived in southern Brazil, and although I worked in education, the talk of the impact of neo-liberalism was part of daily discourse. So my perception of “development” work has certainly been shaped by observing the other side of it, and first learning about it from the recipients rather than the "do gooders".
Many residents of the Global North – Americans, Europeans, Canadians – genuinely want to “make the world a better place”. What could be wrong with that? Wilentz’s book is an excoriating account of the impact of foreign do-gooders on Haiti. She describes how much harm is done, and how the condition of Haiti and its people deteriorate while huge amounts of money and profits are involved. One example she gives is the story of an American woman and her Haitian husband who try to build housing in a rural area after the earthquake. They end up buying the land they are building on three or four separate times, due to the lack of clear ownership. After two years, trying to build, they give up. After the earthquake, many worthless parcels of land owned by wealthy Haitians were sold for many times what they were worth. Disaster became a huge economic opportunity for "the haves". The Haitian have-nots already knew how it would all shake out.
Wilentz is also critical of herself, questioning her own involvement in Haiti for decades. She is fluent in Kreyol and has a deep affection for the people. She tells an account of a day spent with Haitian friends during her early days in Haiti, when she declared she loved Haiti. One of her friends then said that then she would gladly trade passports with Wilentz and leave Haiti to live in the US, and Wilentz could stay in Haiti. Wilentz does praise some genuinely good efforts – Dr. Paul Farmer and Partners in Health, and a Massachusetts doctor names Megan Coffee who has spent a couple of years in Haiti caring for TB patients for no pay, depending on the charity of others for food, shelter, wifi and an iPhone. She describes a business, Digitel, a cell phone provider, which has actually managed to change life in Haiti for the better, as Haitians, for the first time, have cheap access to phones and everything that access brings. She gives Sean Penn mixed reviews but by the end of the book seems to have decided he is genuine, though she is still not quite sure why he is in Haiti.
One of the most telling segments in the book was the following:
"The fault (for instability in Haiti) is not with the ignorant many, but with the educated and ambitious few. Too proud to work, and not disposed to go into commerce, they make politics a business of their country. Governed neither by love or mercy for their country, they care not into what depths she may be plunged. No president, however virtuous, wise and patriotic, ever suits them …."
From a lecture in Chicago in 1893 by Frederick Douglass, Ambassador to Haiti. One hundred and twenty years later, the haves still prevent Haiti from being what she could be, and Haiti remains one of the poorest countries in the world.
decafjess's review against another edition
2.0
I can't decide if I liked it or not. It reads like a memoir and is a page turner, but at the same time, I'm not sure what the author wanted the reader to take away. Wilentz is very dismissive of most foreigners in Haiti that seem to come just to gawk at suffering, despite being a foreigner in Haiti just there to gawk at the suffering. The author does do a good job of briefing the history of Haiti and the current situation, but I can't help but wonder what the point of the book was.
bluepigeon's review
5.0
I had started Farewell, Fred Voodoo before the trip, so it was the only book I took with me in physical book format.
I finished it shortly after we landed, despite having watched a stupid Hollywood film on the plane, a long-standing flight policy of mine that goes something like this: I will never pay to watch this horrendous film that has nothing to do with reality and has molded some "true" story under the iron hammer of Hollywood formula into a hollow nothing, unless I am on a plane and it is right there and it's free. Clearly, it is a policy that I need to quit, but, alas, not this time.
The flight, being a February flight taking off in the middle of a snow storm at JFK to the Caribbean, was full of well-to-do white people, except, of course, one of the flight attendants, who had an accent that placed her somewhere in the Caribbean, but not exactly our destination. So there we were, on an almost-all-white flight with a super-large carbon footprint (the de-icing took an hour, and I do not even want to try to calculate the amount of environment we murdered during that time, let alone the flight, the stay, and the flight back) headed for a tropical paradise with a poor, mostly black population, of whom over 80% depend on tourism for their livelihood... A very good time to read Amy Wilentz's masochistic farewell to Fred Voodoo.
Incidentally, the film I chose to watch on our way to the islands was Captain Philips, whose commercial ship gets taken hostage by Somalian pirates, and who is eventually rescued by the brave US Navy. But, Captain Philips is a conscientious man, and he lets us understand some things during his painful stay with the Somalian criminals. (I will paraphrase the dialog based on notes I took on the plane, on the cardboard box of the Beef Up meal JetBlue was offering at a price equal to what a villager would earn in a month in the islands, I wager):
Philips: We're taking food to starving people in Africa... including some Somalians.
(an "Ah!" moment)
Inevitably, I am thinking of the Crisis Caravan and the foreign aid groups and religious missions...
Later, we learn something about why the pirates might be doing what they are doing:
Somalian pirate: I'm a fisherman. They came and took all our fish. What is left for us to fish?
(an "Aha!" moment)
Inevitably, I am thinking of Miami rice that flooded the Haitian market, and inadvertently took away the income of rice farmers in Haiti.
The crew of the captured vessel lay out a trap for one of the pirates, who cuts his foot on the glass shards they had hoped he would step on. Later, good Captain Philips bandages the pirate's foot. A bandaid solution, but a well intentioned one nevertheless, for a wound caused by the ship's crew, though one can easily argue the pirate brought it upon himself.
Meanwhile, the Somalian Pirate keep reassuring Captain Philips: "Everything will be OK." He smiles. I think, this would make a good shot for the photojournalists.
And he reveals his dream, of going to America, to New York.
Inevitably, I am thinking of Amy Wilentz's acquaintances, the Aristide boys, who now and then describe their dreams for the future, of which the most incredulous one is going to America.
And the semi-naive Captain Philips, like the missionaries and do-gooders in Wilentz's book, eventually realizes, and allows himself to pass a judgement on his captors: "You're not just a fisherman." He repeats this twice, unable to process, perhaps, how he had missed this fact in the beginning. He understands, truly understands, that he was their "white man." And the Captain seems to arrive at the conclusion that there is something wrong with the Somali pirate, something wrong beyond the fact that the is a jobless fisherman, rendered impotent by the colonial powers that be.
Inevitably, I am thinking of the foreign aid that is promised to Haiti, none of which is directly trusted in the hands of the Haitian government or Haitians, because, well, there is something wrong with them, isn't there? We want to help them, but all they want is to take take take and waste and never improve. This is, I presume, is how Captain Philips must be feeling.
Before Philips is rescued, he tries to understand and reason: "There's gotta be a better way than being a fisherman or kidnapping people."
Somalian pirate: "Maybe in America."
And the Somalian pirate does, in the end, go to America. He is told he will go to jail in America. And we now understand that the only way for him to really have gone to America was like this. What other way could there be for this unskilled ex-fisherman, who wasn't really a well-trained fisherman to begin with? We are left shaking our heads and feeling sorry for Captain Philips, and maybe, a little for the pirate, though rationally, we do not think he deserves much of our sympathy.
When we landed in our tropical paradise, we are very white. And everyone who is servicing us, cabbies, restaurant people, policemen... are black locals. The hotel owners are white, though they grew up on the islands, we are told. And we hire local businessmen for our excursions, all of whom were born and grew up on the very island we are vacationing away from the annoying crowds on the main island. For the most part, the locals we deal with are well educated. Some have worked in the US before. We do not feel out of place much, because we know, as racial as the divide seems, it is very much a class divide, the same class divide that we find vacationing in Turkey, where everyone is Caucasian to some degree, but those who serve and those who vacation clearly belong to different socioeconomic classes.
There is one incident that puts me right back into Amy Wilentz's book: I usually over-tip when on vacation in places like this, aware that this is very much appreciated by the people who work there. I tip the local guide who takes us around the caves more than 50%. I know, he is also getting 66% of the tour price to himself, the remaining portion goes to the island, presumably, for the maintenance of the protected area. But this is not enough; he asks me to pay the cab driver, too. Our hotel owners are very detailed in their directions and they have never mentioned this fee, and I know, I just know because I have been in similar situations before, that I am now officially the tour guide's "white man." I pay and smile. I sincerely hope he enjoys his earnings. But I can easily see how this can become a source of resentment very quickly.
When we are flying back, I count the number of non-white people in the airport (not just our flight, but a good 8 flights!): Four. We are at the airport for over 4 hours, and a total of four black people are among the ocean of white people with pink children are flying today.
In Farewell, Fred Voodoo Amy Wilentz reports not only the state of Haiti and its people, but on the complicated and often contradictory state of foreignness in this seemingly cursed, yet beautiful land. Wilentz's observations and experiences, which she dissects with relentless self-criticism and journalistic vigor, are very much the blueprint of the experiences of the privileged and lucky in the world, who may intend to help struggling nations and peoples, who may vacation in places that suffer from chronic poverty, who may do business in such developing countries.
Wilentz sets out to answer many questions, but one is very difficult to pin down an answer for: Why does she keep coming to Haiti? Why is she still there? What is she doing there? And the answer seems to be: to be useful. But even this is unsatisfactory, as she questions just how useful she is, or her book is, or how selfless, as she will put it on her resume, and earn something from the book sales, just like the doctors who rush to disaster areas and become celebrities based on their sacrifices, and the religious missions, who are, undoubtedly, doing good to be good in their God's eyes.
We met a couple during vacation. I told them about the book. The woman said she had been to Haiti several years ago. On a mission trip. I recommended she read Farewell, Fred Voodoo. I tried not to smile too widely.
I finished it shortly after we landed, despite having watched a stupid Hollywood film on the plane, a long-standing flight policy of mine that goes something like this: I will never pay to watch this horrendous film that has nothing to do with reality and has molded some "true" story under the iron hammer of Hollywood formula into a hollow nothing, unless I am on a plane and it is right there and it's free. Clearly, it is a policy that I need to quit, but, alas, not this time.
The flight, being a February flight taking off in the middle of a snow storm at JFK to the Caribbean, was full of well-to-do white people, except, of course, one of the flight attendants, who had an accent that placed her somewhere in the Caribbean, but not exactly our destination. So there we were, on an almost-all-white flight with a super-large carbon footprint (the de-icing took an hour, and I do not even want to try to calculate the amount of environment we murdered during that time, let alone the flight, the stay, and the flight back) headed for a tropical paradise with a poor, mostly black population, of whom over 80% depend on tourism for their livelihood... A very good time to read Amy Wilentz's masochistic farewell to Fred Voodoo.
Incidentally, the film I chose to watch on our way to the islands was Captain Philips, whose commercial ship gets taken hostage by Somalian pirates, and who is eventually rescued by the brave US Navy. But, Captain Philips is a conscientious man, and he lets us understand some things during his painful stay with the Somalian criminals. (I will paraphrase the dialog based on notes I took on the plane, on the cardboard box of the Beef Up meal JetBlue was offering at a price equal to what a villager would earn in a month in the islands, I wager):
Philips: We're taking food to starving people in Africa... including some Somalians.
(an "Ah!" moment)
Inevitably, I am thinking of the Crisis Caravan and the foreign aid groups and religious missions...
Later, we learn something about why the pirates might be doing what they are doing:
Somalian pirate: I'm a fisherman. They came and took all our fish. What is left for us to fish?
(an "Aha!" moment)
Inevitably, I am thinking of Miami rice that flooded the Haitian market, and inadvertently took away the income of rice farmers in Haiti.
The crew of the captured vessel lay out a trap for one of the pirates, who cuts his foot on the glass shards they had hoped he would step on. Later, good Captain Philips bandages the pirate's foot. A bandaid solution, but a well intentioned one nevertheless, for a wound caused by the ship's crew, though one can easily argue the pirate brought it upon himself.
Meanwhile, the Somalian Pirate keep reassuring Captain Philips: "Everything will be OK." He smiles. I think, this would make a good shot for the photojournalists.
And he reveals his dream, of going to America, to New York.
Inevitably, I am thinking of Amy Wilentz's acquaintances, the Aristide boys, who now and then describe their dreams for the future, of which the most incredulous one is going to America.
And the semi-naive Captain Philips, like the missionaries and do-gooders in Wilentz's book, eventually realizes, and allows himself to pass a judgement on his captors: "You're not just a fisherman." He repeats this twice, unable to process, perhaps, how he had missed this fact in the beginning. He understands, truly understands, that he was their "white man." And the Captain seems to arrive at the conclusion that there is something wrong with the Somali pirate, something wrong beyond the fact that the is a jobless fisherman, rendered impotent by the colonial powers that be.
Inevitably, I am thinking of the foreign aid that is promised to Haiti, none of which is directly trusted in the hands of the Haitian government or Haitians, because, well, there is something wrong with them, isn't there? We want to help them, but all they want is to take take take and waste and never improve. This is, I presume, is how Captain Philips must be feeling.
Before Philips is rescued, he tries to understand and reason: "There's gotta be a better way than being a fisherman or kidnapping people."
Somalian pirate: "Maybe in America."
And the Somalian pirate does, in the end, go to America. He is told he will go to jail in America. And we now understand that the only way for him to really have gone to America was like this. What other way could there be for this unskilled ex-fisherman, who wasn't really a well-trained fisherman to begin with? We are left shaking our heads and feeling sorry for Captain Philips, and maybe, a little for the pirate, though rationally, we do not think he deserves much of our sympathy.
When we landed in our tropical paradise, we are very white. And everyone who is servicing us, cabbies, restaurant people, policemen... are black locals. The hotel owners are white, though they grew up on the islands, we are told. And we hire local businessmen for our excursions, all of whom were born and grew up on the very island we are vacationing away from the annoying crowds on the main island. For the most part, the locals we deal with are well educated. Some have worked in the US before. We do not feel out of place much, because we know, as racial as the divide seems, it is very much a class divide, the same class divide that we find vacationing in Turkey, where everyone is Caucasian to some degree, but those who serve and those who vacation clearly belong to different socioeconomic classes.
There is one incident that puts me right back into Amy Wilentz's book: I usually over-tip when on vacation in places like this, aware that this is very much appreciated by the people who work there. I tip the local guide who takes us around the caves more than 50%. I know, he is also getting 66% of the tour price to himself, the remaining portion goes to the island, presumably, for the maintenance of the protected area. But this is not enough; he asks me to pay the cab driver, too. Our hotel owners are very detailed in their directions and they have never mentioned this fee, and I know, I just know because I have been in similar situations before, that I am now officially the tour guide's "white man." I pay and smile. I sincerely hope he enjoys his earnings. But I can easily see how this can become a source of resentment very quickly.
When we are flying back, I count the number of non-white people in the airport (not just our flight, but a good 8 flights!): Four. We are at the airport for over 4 hours, and a total of four black people are among the ocean of white people with pink children are flying today.
In Farewell, Fred Voodoo Amy Wilentz reports not only the state of Haiti and its people, but on the complicated and often contradictory state of foreignness in this seemingly cursed, yet beautiful land. Wilentz's observations and experiences, which she dissects with relentless self-criticism and journalistic vigor, are very much the blueprint of the experiences of the privileged and lucky in the world, who may intend to help struggling nations and peoples, who may vacation in places that suffer from chronic poverty, who may do business in such developing countries.
Wilentz sets out to answer many questions, but one is very difficult to pin down an answer for: Why does she keep coming to Haiti? Why is she still there? What is she doing there? And the answer seems to be: to be useful. But even this is unsatisfactory, as she questions just how useful she is, or her book is, or how selfless, as she will put it on her resume, and earn something from the book sales, just like the doctors who rush to disaster areas and become celebrities based on their sacrifices, and the religious missions, who are, undoubtedly, doing good to be good in their God's eyes.
We met a couple during vacation. I told them about the book. The woman said she had been to Haiti several years ago. On a mission trip. I recommended she read Farewell, Fred Voodoo. I tried not to smile too widely.
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