In the village of Chinchion, people were doing the best they could to just survive the cholera epidemic. They told us it was a great distance to get water from the river. They had a collection tank at the river, but no way to get the water to the village. Leaders told us that French and Canadian NGOs erected the tank "three or four years ago," but that the Japanese pump was no longer working. The Haitian Red Cross gave them purification tablets a month ago, but they were about to run out. 6,000 people depend on this water, and for now they have to try to travel to market to buy Clorox at the cost of 5 Gourdes for a "small bottle (12 cents)." With average daily income in Haiti of less than $2 per day, and even less so in remote areas, 12 cents to purify your drinking water, the basic staple of life, is difficult to bear.
This narrative may seem like a digression from the Clairin investigation, but it demonstrates how completely forgotten and expendable these people are--forgotten by their own government, by the Red Cross, and other organizations who come to put a band aid on water problems, garner publicity and then leave without addressing the core infrastructure issues. The deaths of 12 to 15 villagers by poisoning was not getting much serious attention by their government. Villagers knew methanol was being sold as Clairin and that the Haitian Red Cross had taken "Maybe 15 people" from Fond Baptiste to the hospital. But, no one seemed to be doing anything about it and they were as hungry for information as they were for Aquatabs.
We reached Fond Baptiste shortly after the village market closed, although there were a few stands in place selling fruit, rice and legumes. The residents viewed us almost with indifference until we explained that we were looking for anyone with knowledge of the villagers who had died. Was anyone still sick? We were also looking for discarded containers that may have held the Clairin. Naively, we assumed we would find distinctive containers, like discarded Coke or rum bottles. It was later we learned that villagers brought their own containers to purchase the brew from blue 55-gallon drums in the markets.
A young woman who was chewing on a stalk of sugar cane offered to take us another half hour or so up the road to the home of a man who had fallen ill from the poison, had gone blind, but was still alive. She was almost nonchalant as she explained that her mother died from methanol and that her infant had been killed during the earthquake when a wall collapsed on the baby. Such is life in Haiti's remote areas. Life and death are so closely intertwined that death does not seem to be a surprise. It is always just around the next corner, is not shocking, and is accepted with a stoicism that both inspires and repels first world sensibilities. This is unacceptable to the American mindset, which demands entitlement. Haitians and others of the world's dispossessed do not experience the basic human right of clean water. Life and death is game of winner take all, and death takes all with no impunity.
Incongruously, we also encountered a wedding along the way. Life does go on.
Without extending this narrative, here is a video we made of an interview with the blind survivor we found in Fond Baptiste.
Villagers explained that the first victim was a 45-year-old woman who went to market down the mountain--they were not sure which market--and purchased what she thought was Clairin. She immediately fell ill with great pain, blindness and a swift death. Not making the connection, the villagers prepared a funeral and did what they always do, which is to celebrate or ease their pain, it was not clear which, by drinking what they assumed was Clairin at the funeral.
More deaths followed, and still the connection was not made. Somewhere along the way the tainted brew was also given to an infant. As little as a couple of tablespoons (about 14-28 ml) of methanol causes methanol poisoning in children. In adults, two ounces (56 ml) is all it takes. One thing was very clear. The man in our interview purchased what he thought was Clairin at the market in Montrouis for his father's funeral, drank it, and shared it with others who all died. It turned out that his father had also died from methanol poisoning.
The 34-year-old man we interviewed may or may not be alive today, but his testimony was strong and unwavering. Listen to it to get the full picture. He seems to have been lucky, if you can consider permanent blindness "luck." His testimony indicates that he initially got to a hospital where "they gave me an IV and pills." He did not fully understand what was happening, but an IV drip of ethanol is standard treatment for methanol poisoning. Or it may be that the Haitian Red Cross took blood samples that proved methanol poisoning. Patient advocacy is non-existent here, and it was clear the man was confused, frightened, and had no idea what was happening to him. A Cuban doctor had given him a prescription for Vitamin B, but Vitamin B is not the standard treatment for methanol poisoning.
Next Page 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7
(Note: You can view every article as one long page if you sign up as an Advocate Member, or higher).
2
2
2
