Pulling into Gonaives on our bone-rattling Pumpkin bus was like entering a maze. We turned down dirt roads walled by concrete, single lanes where we could see a home rising block by block just above the wall. All I could think was whether this home, one day, would collapse on someone. The single-lane dirt road turns and twists back on itself, barely wide enough for our bus to make a corner. Every lot in town that can has a wall facing the road, even if the wall is only careful stacks of broken blocks. Read more >
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