Let me tell you a little something about... Clothing in Haiti

I always apologize for my long absences between blog postings, but shoot, life can get pretty crazy around here. I also have a rule I only post when I’m in good spirits, as not to trouble the folks back home, and although I am in good spirits a fair amount of time, I also happen to be busy doing other things while in good spirits. So although I regret not having the chance to share more with you, I also know it will probably happen again, and it’s understandable, so I will avoid the feelings of guilt that come from apologizing, and just realize that’s how life goes sometimes.

Today, I will return to my ongoing series of descriptive posts about aspects of everyday life in Haiti. Without further ado…

Let me tell you a little something about… clothing in Haiti.

There are no malls in Haiti. Or at least not in the sense we’re used to. I have seen a few outdoor shopping complexes in Port Au Prince, but most of them offer only a restaurant or two, a bookstore, coffee shop, pharmacy, and perhaps a travel agency or airline office.  There are clothing stores, but nothing like a GAP, Old Navy, or American Eagle- well-stocked, well-staffed, and well-organized. No no.. If you are looking to buy new clothing in Port Au Prince, you often have to step down into a cramped, poorly lit, basement room and scout around for what it is you’re looking for. If you can’t find what you want, or perhaps your size, you can ask, and sometimes the merchant will have giant bags filled with individually wrapped shirts or skirts, that they personally toted probably from the Dominican Republic after buying wholesale, which you can then dig through until you find what you’re looking for or get tired trying. In Mirebalais, there are a few small shops on the main market street, and I have on occasion, splurged and bought a new item for, oh, maybe $10. However, there is a whole other side to the business. There is what we call, Rad Pepe.

Rad Pepe is the term used to describe the second hand clothing market in Haiti. Rad is the word for clothing, and I’m not sure what pepe is all about.  I suppose when I say  this clothing is second hand, it’s more accurately like 3^rd or 4^th hand. What happens to all the clothing Salvation Army or Goodwill can’t sell, or perhaps don’t have the time to sort through? That’s right- some of it gets shipped to Haiti in large bales which are sold to merchants willing to take a gamble on what might be inside. They then sort through their wares, pack it up, and head off to sell on the busy streets of Mirebalais (or I suppose other similar locations throughout Haiti).

When you are setting out to buy rad pepe, you will come across large heaps of clothing on tarps spread across the sidewalk or street. Each pile usually has a theme. Skirts, children’s clothes, men’s clothes, formal clothes, etc. Once you find the correct pile, you just have to start digging. You might find a winner right away, and you might not find one until the very bottom of the pile, so perseverance is key. Sometimes I’m not even planning on buying clothing, but some irresistible piece of used goodness catches my eye on the top of a pile, and I simply must stop and ask how much.

Which brings me to pricing. Oh boy, is pricing ever something else. It is entirely contingent on your race, your personality, your stubbornness, and your ability to make the merchant smile. When I first arrived here, merchants could swindle me quite easily. Start at 500 gourdes? Ok, I’ll work my way down to 400 patting myself on the back as I walk away. Little did I know the piece was only good for 50. But I’ve learned my lesson. You shoot low. Really, really low, and you have to be willing to walk away.  There are always more clothing heaps to sort through.

I have also learned to buy articles of clothing based almost entirely on function. I am proud of this, and I hope this is something I take back to the states (although I don’t want to be dressing in burlap sacks as a weird outcast of normal society). When I look at an item, I think first if it will serve the purpose that I need. For example, I unfortunately left my favorite Boston hooded sweatshirt up on a mountain, in a small town where I attended a wedding, the trek of which takes a good 3 hours and is quite cumbersome. Needless to say, I left my hoodie there as a gift to whoever found it, and decided to go in search of a new one.  Sidenote- it can get “chilly” enough for me to wear a hoodie on occasion, although I’m quite sure my body’s tolerance to colder temperatures isn’t what it used to be. Somewhere in the mid-70s can now send a chill through my bones. Anyways, I happened to be with a band of helpers- Jon’s dad and grandfather was here, along with Jon and my best friend Nicole. Everybody pitched in to the pile digging party, holding up various items for me to examine. Each piece had a reason it wouldn’t fulfill the purpose- too dirty, too short, too huge, until finally I found the one that fit, that was originally meant for a woman, and that didn’t have any obvious flaws. Sure, it’s ugly, but who cares? It works. And I was so glad to be done digging, I decided to go for it. I went up to ask the price. 200 gourdes. Nope. No dice. I offered 50 (about $1.25). She said 100. I stood my ground. She kind of sighed. She looked tired and she’s seen me around before. She knows I’m not easily swindled, and when she looked at me, I knew this was going to be an easy one. She told me to buy it for 50. Victory. Now I own a fully functional, cozy, but ugly hoodie for those chilly mornings around here and my hikes into the high mountains.

Some might think it’s cheap to bargain when heaven knows people like me can afford to pay a little extra, however, bargaining is a huge part of the culture here. If they give me a ridiculous price and I just agree to it upfront and shell out the money, it’s kind of a bummer to them. Merchants offer high prices, partly to see if they can get them, but also as kind of a test. How well does this blan chick know Haiti? In a way, I am easy entertainment. Not only is the merchant selling to me watching, but also others nearby. They glance at each other, knowing they will either get a hefty profit out of the deal, or a good show. Why disappoint? If I can get their price down, and get them to laugh, I think we all walk away happy.

Because of the variety of clothing available from the rad pepe market, people watching can be a hoot. I’m always on the lookout for T-shirts that have come from closed to home. I know a girl who has a “Petoskey Michigan” baseball shirt, and I have seen a random stranger with an “Aquinas College” (closed to my home in Grand Rapids, MI) shirt. People wear all sorts of slogans that are super inappropriate for them and they often make me laugh. A little boy proudly wearing a pink shirt proudly saying “I’m a big sister”, or crass words emblazoned across the chest of a sweet, innocent old church lady. There are misspelled shirts that after the mistake was found, were shipped to Haiti and perhaps other countries who wouldn’t know the difference. I’ve heard from a friend here, there are many folks walking around with “Vote for Perdo” shirts, from the movie “Napolean Dynamite”- Vote for Pedro campaign. The point is, the words don’t matter. The clothes work. They function and that’s all that matters to these folks, and really it’s all that should matter to everyone, everywhere.

The other thing that cracks me up is clothes that are way out of context. I know a guy with a really vintage track jacket from some high school. He’s really rockin it as a moto taxi driver when he combines the shiny maroon jacket with his 80’s era tinted glasses, something similar to what my mother wore before my birth. I’ve seen bowling shoes as everyday shoes. I once saw a merchant using a pointed, brimmed, black witch’s hat from a former life as a Halloween costume, to keep the sun out of her eyes.  I’ve seen men in shirts that have survived since the 50’s, 60’s, and 70’s. One person might be donning pieces from 3 different decades of fashion fads, but as long as they are all laundered, neatly pressed, and in good repair, you’re good to go.

The beautiful thing to take away from this is what I’ve already alluded to before. Clothes are meant to serve a function. They keep us warm, protect us from the sun, and allow for modesty. Sure, they also let us express ourselves, and show the world who we are, but we shouldn’t be who we are because of what our clothes say. Take pride in your appearance, sure, but don’t let it control you. All my Haitian friends are dressed to the nines for Sunday church services and you’d never know they come from shacks with no power or running water. Everything is washed, pressed, and ready to go. They make do with what they got, and even make the most of the little that is. I hope to continue to do the same in my life as I soon begin the transition back to my homeland.

Thanks for reading.

Annie