Getting to the Roots  Each time I set out on a trip in public transportation, I think I know what I’m getting myself into.  I am always mistaken. On Wednesday I went to the Port-au-Prince bus station and climbed aboard a bus headed for Cap Haitian, on Haiti’s Northern coast. My seat became infinitely smaller a moment later when a grandmother of generous proportions took up residence beside me. It may not have been so bad, but it just so happened that she was in the dancing mood. As the bus pulled out of the station and Kompa music started blaring from the front speakers, granny started moving to the beat. With vigor.  My problems were only just beginning. When heading North on Route Nationale 1, the road is more or less passable. Until it ends. It comes to a definitive stop two hours outside the capital, leaving five hours of rough, rocky, mountainous terrain to be navigated in an old American school bus packed with six people per row (and a few poor souls left standing to boot).  The situation is no better in the city of Cap Haitian, Haiti’s second largest city, where even the impressive city square is surrounded by unkempt pot-hole filled roads.  The current state of Haiti’s basic infrastructure has innumerable negative effects, from my sore back the next morning to limiting the country’s capacity for economic development.  The problem, which includes not only roads but electricity, water, and communications, can be directly linked to the inefficiency and instability Haiti’s central government has experience for decades. The first complaint of Haitians about the state of their country is almost unanimous: the government does not implement order in the country, starting with basic infrastructure.  While all Haitians I have spoken with hope that the upcoming elections will mark a turning point in this respect, many groups take the approach that they cannot afford to wait any longer for the government to act.  The purpose of my trip to Okap (Creole for Cap Haitian) was to visit two University of Fondwa students who are doing internships in the area with Veterimed, a Haitian organization that helps peasants care for their animals. I was able to participate in a formation session that was offered to AFLIDEPA, the Limonade Women’s Association for Agricultural and Artisan Production.  For the meeting, UNIF student Charles Edner and I trekked deep into the countryside surrounding Cap Haitian to find a group of 41 women doing their opening prayer for their meeting.  It was not a silent affair; they were standing in a cramped circle in a small tin-covered building singing the songs that define their existence.  “We are the base of the Haitian economy, we are the ones who work, we are the ones who suffer, we are the ones who give life to the world and assure the future of our children.  We are Haitian women.”  Before beginning the presentation, Charles asked the women what importance the day’s topic, caring for cows, has in their lives.  They explained that if they have a child they need to send to school, a family member who is sick, or a marriage or funeral to pay for, they can sell a cow to do so. Cows also provide income through their milk, hide, offspring, and meat. In short, they are essential to their lives.  Over the next four hours, Charles had the undivided attention of the women of AFLIDEPA, who, though illiterate for the most part, were actively seeking the knowledge that will help them improve their lives. The day of formation was an ultimate example of grassroots development. Whether or not change is brought about by Haiti’s elections, the women of AFLIDEPA and the other solidarity groups associated with Veterimed will continue to move forward with their own vision for the future. Brian D. McElroy, a native of Bloomington, Minnesota, graduated from the University of Notre Dame in 2005. He is the Secretary of the University of Fondwa, Haiti’s first and only university in the mountains (www.unif2004.org).  Visit Brian’s blog at , or email him at bdmcelroy@gmail.com.