I took it for Heather Riden and all the rest of you arachnophobes out there. That is one giant cobweb. On closer look, it's dense with leaves, trapped insects, and big fat spiders. On that note, here's one of a spider in my kitchen. I don't know how you define a tarantula, but this thing was hairy, and you can compare its size to that orange there. Sorry so blurry.
Here's some photos of the training seminar. First, me with Gibbs and Viles, coworkers of mine who organized the training. I'm holding a drum that was used for the song we sang as a group to welcome each trainer, and then again to thank them when they were done.
Here's another coworker, Lelene, with her son who sat in on her talk about gender equality:
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Here's the group photo of most of the trainees. See if you can find me (hint--I'm the bald one):
I've written here before about how people who live outside of Port-au-Prince rarely smile for photos. This is a great example of that. The only people smiling in this photo are those who live in the city. Everybody else is playing it cool.
Here's the chapel, upstairs from where we had our training sessions:
Early every morning there would be a half dozen or so sisters scattered around the pews praying. Then at 7:00 they'd start singing in a transcendent, echoing acapella.
Now for something completely different. If you've got Google Earth on your computer, I've found my exact coordinates, and you can check out my pad from space: 18°30'33.59"N/72°17'18.52"W should take you to my deck, where I like to get my quota of hammock time each week. My studio is just the bottom left corner of the structure you see. A block east and you'll see the bright green roof of the Kinam Hotel across the street from St. Peter's Place, a city park. As you'll notice, I'm on the edge of the tight grid of streets that is known as Petion-Ville, one of the few areas like this in Port-au-Prince. But just west of my place, you'll see an enormous bidonville, or shantytown, called Jalousie. Unlike the squareness of Petion-Ville, Jalousie is like a blanket of houses draped over the contours of the steep hills. From above there's a sort of organic look to it, resembling a seashell. The houses are built right on top of each other, and some of them collapse each year when heavy rains erode the ground that they're leaning against. Many of them are about the size of my studio, but there might be 10 people sleeping there each night. Now, look just to the south of the Jalousie, further up the hill, at the sprawling mansions, some with swimming pools. The ultra rich and ultra poor, a stone's throw away from each other. Is it any wonder that Port-au-Prince is a tinderbox of class tension?
Well that's it for my grab bag of a posting today. Hope y'all are enjoying your Sunday.
