Trou Do

Trou Do (pronounced “True Dough”) was a remote area in Haiti, seldom visited by Caucasians. It was located in the mountains that stood guard over where we lived. Below is a photo of the mountains viewed from our back fence.

Night Trails

In Haiti, ordained Pastors were usually responsible for a large area with lay preachers being responsible for running the day to day affairs of the church. Because it was so hard to get to Trou Do, our pastor only went once or twice a year. At these times he would perform any weddings or baptisms that needed to be done. Usually the weddings were a group affair with several couples tying the knot during the same ceremony. If there was only one trip to be made, it was during the church’s annual harvest festival. So I went with our Pastor during one of these services.

Double Wedding in Trou Do

We left Tomazo (pronounces Toe-mah-zoh) at 4:30 am so we could make the rough climb while it was cool.  It was very dark.  We had one horse, which the pastor rode.  I was on foot with my backpack.  I had no idea where we were going.  I was usually following the sound of the person in front of me since I could not see the trail,  (The pack animals had no problem finding the trail.)  When it was finally light enough to see, I looked back and was amazed to see what I had gone through.

Heading Up the Mountain to Trou Do

While in many places the children were afraid of white people, in Trou Do, they were just plain awestruck.  The first time I visited it was near Mardi Gras season. When I walked into the area carrying my backpack (something they had never seen—they carried everything on their head), a young boy, who had likely never seen a white person before, started jumping up and down shouting “Wow! Mardi Gras!”  The last white person to visit Trou Do was probably did so 5 years before that.

Muddy water made clean

During this trip I toured the area to see what needs there were and if there was anything I could do to help.  I was amazed to see remnants of old French forts from the 1700’s.

The topography was very interesting.  The whole area was a large plateau covered with sinkholes—I stopped counting at 19.  The area got its name because some of these sinkholes held water: Trou Do means “water hole”.  Many of the sinkholes were small—maybe 150 to 300 feet across.  Frequently the rim of one pothole was also the rim of the next.  Because of these potholes, there was no surface water runoff.  All the rains disappeared down these holes.  Consequently, there was a huge need or clean water.

One of Many Sinkholes in Trou Do

There was only one spring located on the other side of the mountain that towered over the area.  The people stood for line in for hours in order to scoop out some muddy water to fill their gourds.  Often the ladies would head to the spring at 3 or 4 in the morning to get in line. The locals asked if there was anything I could do to help alleviate the water issues. I thought about it and said that we could fix the spring up. I told them how much PVC pipe, blocks and cement that would be needed. The cost would be about $80 US.

The Muddle Where Locals Got Their Water

Hauling Water From the Spring

The locals bought all the supplies and then I made arrangements to go back to Trou Do. When I arrived—the day before work would start—I asked if there were any masons around. We located two masons and they told me they had never done a spring development before. I told them that it was okay, because I was not a mason. The next day was like a big part. The locals made some huge puts of rice and beans. People were helping carry supplies. I guided the masons as they did the work.

Local Mason Working on the Spring

At the end of the day, when we were done, I was the first one to put cup my hand under the clean flowing water to take a drink. If the white guy is brave enough to drink it, it must be good. The villagers had a great boost in self-esteem. Not only did they have clean water, they paid for the project and did the the work themselves.

Childbirth 101

Playing Obstetrician

In Haiti, the foreigner was assumed to be the expert in everything.  Though my training was in forestry and soils and my main work was with agriculture, that didn't mean that I wasn't supposed to be an expert in health care.  On one visit to Trou Do, I was asked to visit a lady who was pregnant and having difficulty.  I found the lady in bed in great pain.  From the size of her belly I surmised she was well along in her pregnancy.  I told here I wasn't a doctor but that she might get some relief by removing the cloth belt that was tied tightly below her waist (Haitian ladies who were pregnant would frequently tie a belt below their belly to help support the child).

The next morning I asked how the lady was.  I was told that she was doing fine—the proud mother of a new child!  The reason she had been in pain was that she was in labor and the child couldn’t get out because of the cloth belt!

Baby Delivery, Mother in abstentia

On another occasion I was back at our place in Letan cleaning up in front of the clinic my wife ran.  It was a day that the clinic was closed, but a young couple showed up carrying an infant.  Since I didn’t like for my wife to get harassed on her day off I would often take care of minor first aid problems.  But when I saw how small the child was, I figured I had better get my wife.

So I ran and got my wife.  Our investigation revealed that the child was born the previous night.  The man with the child was the father and the woman a friend of the family.  They had made the 5-hour walk because the child was born complete with the placenta and they didn’t know what to do.  So my wife cut the cord, which meant, in their eyes, that she officially delivered the child.