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General News    H4'ed 2/19/11

Death in a Bottle for a Handful of Haitian Coins

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Georgianne Nienaber
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When we stopped at the Cuban field hospital on Highway 1 several days later, the doctors there explained that when the poisoning first presented in the form of blindness, they did not know what they were dealing with.   As they put it, if a patient with sudden blindness comes in and is walking, talking and all other vital signs are normal, more specialized testing is needed. Methanol poisoning was not in the constellation of possibilities at that time.

 

Imagine drinking anti-freeze or Sterno. Methanol is the same, and poisoning occurs over a number of hours. It is only mildly intoxicating, but it is metabolized into formalin. Think of the lab specimens you had in biology class--preserved in formaldehyde. Treatment must be swift and it is complicated. 

 

Treatment for methanol poisoning is fairly intensive. Many patients have a nasal-gastric tube inserted with activated charcoal, which helps "pump the stomach." Patients are observed for sharp declines in blood pressure, seizures, or stopping breathing. It is quite common for people to need dialysis, and most people are also given an antidote to methanol in the form of ethanol. As symptoms develop, other medications, like anticonvulsants may be needed. Many people require breathing support like a respirator.

 

Now imagine trying to get this kind of an intervention in an emergency room in the United States, let alone in a remote region of Haiti, where there is no infrastructure for water and sanitation, and doctors initially had no idea what they were dealing with.

Our visit to Fond Baptiste produced some understanding, frustration, and an idea where we could investigate a known source of the methanol. It was Saturday when we started down the mountain, but we would not make it to the market in Montrouis until Monday morning.

 

The Montrouis market, located along the well-traveled Highway 1, south of St. Marc, is not as welcoming to "blancs" as the mountain villages are. We got the feeling that as far as younger men were concerned, we represented easy prey for money and abuse. I could not blame them, really. After all, the usual foreign visitors were well-heeled NGO employees on their way to pay over $100 per night plus the cost of a boat trip to the island of la Gonave. La Gonave had been our own agenda in order to investigate a proposed industrial and theme park, but NGOs had booked all of the hotel rooms and driven up the prices in the process. What they were doing on la Gonave is anyone's guess, but the inns were full. 

Nervousness aside, when I found myself alone and surrounded by a group of men screaming in my face and demanding money in Kreyà ²l, I could understand their fury. It did not take long for several sympathetic women to form a protective circle around me and pretend to be teaching me Kreyà ²l: "Tomat, Kreyà ²l; Papay, Kreyà ²l; Glas. Kreyà ²l." Tomato, Papaya, Ice. It was like a chant that kept me safe.

I was very happy to pay them for the timely language lesson and to learn once again that Haitian women are the "Poteau Mitan" or central pillars of society.

  

Meanwhile, our guide and translator was able to locate the local Clairin "distributor" deep in the alleyways and narrow passages of the market. The 55-gallon drums were well hidden and you had to know where to find the proprietor.

 

The owner of the Clairin stand was eager to demonstrate that his brew was safe and consisted of Clairin--not methanol--by drinking several shots and offering me the same. Of course he was aware of the poisoning and had no idea who had sold it, he said. We certainly were not expecting a confession, and there was really no reason to suspect him, especially after he readily offered that he was the only dealer in the market when we informed him that villagers in Fond Baptiste had obtained methanol in Montrouis.

He had heard rumors that the "Williamson" market had sold the methanol, but also heard another rumor that fishermen in the town of Luly found a drum of methanol "floating on the sea" and sold it. It sounded preposterous, but anything is possible, so we went to Luly to find out.

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Georgianne Nienaber is an investigative environmental and political writer. She lives in rural northern Minnesota and South Florida. Her articles have appeared in The Society of Professional Journalists' Online Quill Magazine, the Huffington (more...)
 

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