January 22, 2002 - Down Town
In 1804, Haiti became the first ‘black’ country to break free from the then French rule. Today, out of the 7.5 million people in Haiti, more than 80% of them are unemployed. In Port Au Prince I saw a lot of unemployed people gathered at the capital’s streets.

Strong winds lift light and dry-garbage from the ground. Massive potholes mar the narrow roads. Roundabouts at Port Au Prince do not have traffic lights and cars move aimlessly and uncontrollably like drunken men. The low pavements along the main road seem made more for cars than for pedestrians- as vehicles frequently cross over onto them. Along an area called Down Town, street vendors and hawkers are busy cooking rice, vegetables, and meat. The different types of shops along the road make the place look like a street-festival. The whole world seems to be gathered here and everything from expensive wine to street-meals is sold. But as darkness dawns onto the hungered and noisy Port Au Prince, the hawkers and their customers leave. Only those with empty stomachs can be seen curled up in small balls on the same pavement.

January 24, 2002 - Uphill to Petion Ville
15 kilometres uphill from Port Au Prince is another city called Petion Ville. It took Remy and me - Remy is a Haitian cyclist whom I befriended - two hours to drag our cycles up the hill. Even though Petion Ville is not as cramped up as Down Town, it is still not exempt from the choking pollution. From Petion Ville, one can see Port Au Prince next to the sea, blanketed in thick black smog. Had Remy’s next destination, like mine, not been the Dominican Republic, I would have left this city long time back. I dislike this city, its crowd, its heat and its omnipresent pollution and dust. But since Remy wants a friend to cycle with, I have agreed to wait for him for two more days. Today, we went to the Embassy of the Dominican Republic for our visas. However, they informed us that we would get it at the border.

January 25, 2002 - A day with Remy
Remy and I spent all day wandering around the city. Remy is hot-tempered, so often he ends up fighting with people. Today he nearly beat up the editor of Le Nouvelliste in some childish rage for not mentioning his name in the day’s papers. Later, we were at the Ministry of Tourism to get a Haitian flag, and he quarreled with some of the people there. When we were walking down the street, Remy cursed drivers in their cars as they zoomed by. On the pavement too, he walks heavily, dashing past people and hitting them constantly and almost purposely. Then when he gets into a fight, he boasts that he is a ‘Caribbean Champion Cyclist,’ and that he can do them harm. I was constantly scared that we might get ourselves into trouble with the police. By the end of the day, I was annoyed with Remy’s behaviour. I did not like it one bit. He, on the other hand, was excited that I was going to cycle with him to the Dominican Republic. But for me one day with him was more than enough.

After dinner, I sat down at the hotel’s poolside. A girl approached me and started a conversation. I was talking to her when Remy came and asked me to go inside the room with him. I joked and told him that I would rather go with the girl. He told me that I shouldn’t go with her. I, playfully replied, “It’s my wish, I do what I want to”. He did not say anything and left. I stayed back and after about twenty minutes, two policemen, along with Remy, approached me. I was still talking with the girl then. The policemen looked at us, nodded and cornered me. They then told me to use a condom. I was shocked. I found out that Remy had called them. I can’t believe that I am actually going to travel with a half-crazed person like Remy tomorrow!

January 26, 2002 - Destination Dominican Republic
Half-crazed Remy woke up at four in the morning and started making a lot of noise. Although we had previously agreed to leave the hotel at 7 o’clock, he was now suggesting we leave at six instead. Half-barking at him, I told him he could leave at six, but I would only leave at seven. He got annoyed and pulled a long face, but in the end, we left at 7 o’clock. He wanted to ride my cycle. I told him that we’d better stick to our own cycles. He was angry again.

As we cycled, I saw that the northern hills were naked - no trees, no settlements- but the southern hills were covered with vegetation. There little houses sat clustered in intimate groups. From the valley between these two groups of surrounding hills, we headed east. I saw no arable land. Endless stretches of parched land greeted us with its melancholy sunburnt face. Small children could be seen ferrying twigs and whatever form of wood they could find in nearby jungles. The sun got hotter as we cycled further east with winds from the east hitting us directly - cycling was difficult. But at times when the road was empty with no passing cars, Remy went round in circles, singing to himself.

At 12 o'clock, we reached the border. At the Haitian Immigration we paid USD10 each. Remy wanted to change some money and there too, with the money-changer, he had a fight. When we crossed the border and reached the Dominic Republican Immigration counter, they did not give me a visa. They sent me back. Remy, on the other hand, was permitted to enter because he had a visa. He had never told me about it but during our visit to the Embassy, he had spoken to the officials in French, shown his documents and was issued a visa. Meanwhile, he had left me under the impression that we would both get visas at the border. I don’t know if Remy did that to annoy me and cause me trouble or if it was unintentional. I began to think he was indeed crazy.

Since he had the visa, I told him to go and that I would turn back. He said he was not going without me. He came back with me. At the Haitian Immigration, Remy asked for our money back. He said that we had not gone to the Dominican Republic, so we ought to get our money back. He started to quarrel but we didn’t get our money back.

I wanted to change some money. At the moneychanger’s, Remy started another fight. Remy shouted at the moneychanger for charging me comission. He was shouting loudly and soon people slowly surrounded him. Inevitably, there was a fight. Remy got beaten up. I could not separate him, because they would easily beat me up too. I did not want to get involved. Instead, I helplessly stood back and watched the spectacle.

Will Pushkar journey on to the Dominican Republic? Will he be rid of half-crazed Remy? Find out in our March issue.

Source, Pushkar's diary,wave magazine,Nepal