The Fort(s)

In one of my first posts I talked about "Fort Bayonnais", a fort from the French colonial era far up in the Eastern mountains of Bayonnais. I had tried to hike to it in early June, not fully conscious of how far it was, and the hike and the beating sun crushed my spirits and I didn't make it. And since then, everytime I've looked up and seen the Fort in the distance, I have felt it judging me. Mocking me for my failed attempt at reaching it. But after weeks of mental preparation for the journey, I set out today to conquer the Fort. I will now recount my epic battle against nature.

Jonel and I set out at 4:30, while it was still dark. The sun was what killed me last time, so I was going to beat it to the punch. I carried a backpack with bottles of water, some fresh Haitian bread, a container of extra creamy Haitian peanut butter, and a knife (....for spreading peanut butter). We would need sustenance for the voyage. We managed to make it to the Fort in 2 1/2 hours, which is apparently really good time. But those were 2 1/2 hours of grueling hiking. The mountains tried to discourage me, and they were successful. I would look up and see a peak in the distance and think "If only I can get to that peak, I bet it will be easy walking for a while" and that was never the case. Every peak gave way to another peak, and another. And from the base of the final mountain, all I could see was a giant cliff in front of me, with no visible path up to the Fort. But I didn't realize how tired I was because I was too distracted by everything around me. We would walk through little towns in the hillside, miles away from anything resembling what most people would call "civilization", and I would wonder what it would be like to grow up here in the mountains, totally disconnected from the world (or....totally connected......). Or we would walk through fields of corn planted around giant, black rocks potruding from the ground. And each turn of the hillside gave way to an even greater view of the valley below, and I could see more and more of the coastline over the mountains in the distance. But we eventually made it to Fort, and it was epic. The area inside of the tall, stone walls was overgrown with tall grass and bushes. We walked through a stone archway to see the full view of the valley, and the valleys beyond the Bayonnais valley, and the coast curving around the gulf in the distance, and the view was every bit as miraculous as I had expected it to be.

















But the trip was far from over. I had been told yesterday that "Fort Bayonnais" was actually one of two forts in the mountains, and that if we hiked another hour past the first fort we would reach the second. We could not see the second fort from the first because a large cloud was passing through the two mountains seperating the forts (we were in the clouds). And as we walked I began to realize that Jonel didn't really know where he was going, but we still managed to make it to the second fort, and it was even more miraculous than the first. As I was walking up the stone steps at the entrance, I stepped over a large metal object half-buried in the grass, and it took me a second to realize that it was a cannon. And it was at that point that it really hit me that I was stepping over a cannon in the ruins of a fortress from the French colonial era in the mountains of Northern Haiti. Further inside the fort, we found a little room made out of stone and dirt that soldiers used to sleep in, and I climbed to the top of the stone structure and looked at the fort while Jonel took a nap on one of the cannons. And I looked at a large pit in the middle of the fort, about 20 feet deep with concrete walls, and out of this pit grew an enormous orange (as in the fruit) tree. I thought about all the battles that had been fought at this fort, and the many lives lost, and the hardship that was inflicted on slaves to build this fort during the colonial era. And all that remained was this orange tree.
















We took a different way down. We hiked a path down the mountain range, but on the opposite side facing Bayonnais. And eventually there was a break in the mountains that gave way to an enormous valley with high mountains on either side that cut through the range. And we made it through, and then down into the Bayonnais valley, and eventually back to OFCB. The last two hours of the trip were the worst. My legs were so tired, and my knees were shaking, and I think I pulled a muscle in my groin. And the beautiful scenery could not distract me enough, and I walked like a zombie back to OFCB. And the first thing I did when we got back was drink a tall glass of homemade lemonade (because our water had run out a while ago) and take the most delicious shower of my life (because I've never smelled worse in my life). And then I napped.

















Something I forgot to post about last week: Last Sunday, I saw Actionnel before church and he called me "Preacher James" and then asked me if I would be interested in preaching one Sunday before I left. Peter, my predecessor, apparently preached at the church more than one Sunday, and in Creole. And because I have told people that I am a religion major at Davidson, they have equated that to studying Theology. And if you go to college in Haiti to study Theology, you become a pastor. I told Actionnel I didn't know if I was capable of giving a sermon, and probably wouldn't know what to say sermon-wise, but that I'd think about it and get back to him. But in church that morning, Actionnel informed the OFCB congregation that I would be preaching on August 17th, my last Sunday in Bayonnais. Apparently, I have no choice in the matter. So, I have a little over a month to prepare a sermon.