The Work We Do

We all work.

It gives us purpose, satisfaction and sometimes money.

Even in damaged Haiti, people work hard.

Naturally, many jobs there are typical of ours here.

Yet, I want to share some pictures of working people working in situations not commonly seen here in the US.

Typical of streetside vendors, this woman also has chickens for sale.

Not the kind I buy, all wrapped in clean, clear plastic with dates to use by and not even a bone evident to remind me where the food originated.

No, these poor chickens are still very much alive.

Their feet and necks are tied so they cannot move, but lie in a desperate bundle on the sidewalk, probably hoping for the soup pot, honestly, as it would be a better fate than this.

I also saw a woman transporting chickens like these in a large basket perched (no pun intended) on her head, the chickens' heads dangling helplessly over the edge of the basket.

(I had to turn my head away.)

(For the strong of heart, you can click on the picture and see them more clearly.)

Here's how those large containers are carried. Usually you don't even see a hand supporting them as this lady is doing. Wonder the weight?

A covered "store".

Freezers like these are common, but, since there isn't any electricity, their purpose is not what we would think.

This man never needs to go to gym to lift weights!

We calculated the weight of his load and it must have been over 2,000 pounds.

Can't you imagine him saying to the man talking to him, "Oh, please, I can't stop!

Just walk with me so I can keep moving!"

The roads are horrific, made up of with holes and loose stones and piles of hard rubble so I would imagine tires are often replaced!! This tire business must be busy.

Across the road from the house we stayed in was just destruction from the earthquake.

Still, 15 months later. But, on the spot directly next to this one....

There was this man who worked every day on this remaining slab,

located right next to that mess in the previous picture.

Drawing from a pile of finely crushed gravel (or something), he made cinderblocks--

ONE AT A TIME, using a hand mold.

Reminded me of the sand castles we make with damp sand packed into a pail.

Once dry, he very carefully pulled off the mold and set the block aside.

And here is his finished product--rows and rows of blocks.

I was quite blown away by this.

If all the mountains of broken up cinder block could be ground up and recycled...

just think! Recovery could be within reach.

By the way, these young girls were just walking by, saw me with the camera and, knowing how they love getting pictures taken, I let them jump in the shot.

These smiling ladies do the laundry for our house, both that of the family and the teams.

Our clothes were returned to us so fresh and clean.

Andre shared that he had a choice--to buy a washing machine or employ 3 women.

I strongly believe he made the right choice.