Saturday, February 22, 2014

Survival Purse

My parents came to visit me here in Gonaives about a month ago.  It was a great week spent showing them around the city and introducing them to all my students, friends, and neighbors.

We climbed the mountain...



We shopped in the market, spent lots of time in Jubilee, and took a dusty motorcycle ride to the beach.








We made some great memories and had a wonderful time together, but there is one event from their trip here that I will never forget.  One day, we decided to take a motorcycle ride about an hour into the countryside to another "city" called Ennery.

I drove my mom on the back of my motorcycle while my dad borrowed a friend's moto.  As we were leaving the city, we realized there was a gas shortage.  My tank was already full and my dad thought he had about a half tank so we weren't concerned about making it there and back.

Little did we know, the moto my dad was driving had a gas leak.  We made it the resort in Ennery and we stopped to walk around the grounds and have a coke.

As we were sitting, my dad mentioned that he had felt gas dripping on his leg while he was driving.  Bad news.  The gas station in Ennery had no gas either so our only choice was to hope for the best and head back to Gonaives immediately.

We left around 3 PM and made it about two minutes down the road when my dad's moto ran completely out of gas.  I talked to some men on the road and asked for their help in transferring some gas out of my tank and putting into my dad's tank.  Of course, neither men had anything we could use to siphon the gas.  Our only option was to use a crusty dirty water bottle that they found on the ground to drain gas from my tank into the bottle and then pour it into my dad's tank. Until it was all said and done, it took about twenty minutes for this process.

It took a while to get my dad's moto started and we decided to drive as fast as possible so all the gas wouldn't have a chance to drip out before we made it back to Gonaives.  That plan didn't work because we made it only a few more minutes down the road before my dad broke down again.   Gas in Haiti is bad and very dirty.  Over time, the junk in the gas settles at the bottom of the gas tank.  So, when you run out of gas, that junk clogs your carburetor.  Our problem was more complicate this time.

There we were on the side of the road basically in the middle of nowhere.  Thankfully, a moto taxi driver past us and asked if we wanted help.  I explained our situation and he pulled out a bunch of tools and right there on the road started taking the moto apart.  Thirty to forty-five minutes later we had somehow attracted a small crowd of men all attempting to offer their two cents on our problem.  All the gas that we had transferred from my tank had leaked out.  I didn't have much money on me.  I bought half a gallon of very questionable gas from a random man at outrageous price.  And the leftover money was just enough to pay the man for helping us.

For the third time, we attempted to drive back to Gonaives.  The moto seemed to be running well for about half a mile until it broke down again.  At that point in time, the sun was going down and we still had at least 45 minutes to go until we reached Gonaives.  Being stranded after dark was not something that I wanted to deal with.  I did the only think I could think of in that moment.  I emptied my purse (that was made by men and women in Jubilee) and transferred my belongings into my mom's small backpack.  Then, we looped my purse around a bar on the front of my dad's motorcycle.  My mom with Herculean strength, held her arms behind her back (all while sitting on the back of my moto) and gripped the purse as I drove and towed my dad.



Now, doing that in America would be a challenge.  Here in Haiti, we were dealing with giant potholes, gravel roads, and goats and pigs to dodge.  There were mountains to go over, too.  My little green moto did the best she could, but I could only pull my dad about one third of the way up the mountain without fear of my mom flying right off the back as she tried to hold onto the purse for dear life.  So, he and my mom jumped off and pushed his moto up the mountain and I met them at the top.  Thankfully, that meant that we were able to coast for as long as possible as we went down the other side of the mountain.

Three hours after leaving Ennery we made it to Gonaives just as it got dark. It was truly a miracle that we made it back in one piece!


Shout out to 2nd Story Goods for their amazing quality made "survival" purses!  Everyone should have one of these bags in case of emergency (and because their are beautiful, too)!

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