I’m Kayla, and I test stuff for a living. Usually it’s gear. Lamps. Stoves. Water filters. But this time I had to “review” the thing shaping every day in Haiti now—climate change. Sounds odd, I know. Yet when you’re fixing a roof after a storm, or trying to cook with wet wood, it feels like something you meet, use, and live with. Then you judge it. And you wish you didn’t have to.
I unpacked that first encounter in much more detail over on Haiti, Heat, and Hard Rain: My First-Hand Review.
Where it hits hardest
My first week in Les Cayes, folks still talked about Hurricane Matthew in 2016 like it came last month. Tin roofs still looked patchy. Mango trees leaned wrong. I helped my friend Junior nail down new sheets. The wind? It howled even in the retelling, and UNICEF’s detailed look at Haiti facing the challenge of climate change says the same storms are only getting fiercer.
Then came those hot nights in Port-au-Prince. Sleep stuck to my skin. Power flickered. Mosquitoes sang their tiny, rude song. I checked the fan blades and laughed—like the fan could fight the heat all by itself.
Up north in Gonaïves, a quick burst of rain turned the road into a brown river. We watched plastic bottles race by. “Li pa fasil,” a woman next to me said. Not easy. Later, we cleared a clogged canal with a shovel and a rake. It took a day. It saved a street.
In Artibonite, the rice fields told another story. Some weeks, rain stayed away. Then it came too fast, too hard. My neighbor, Jean-Mary, rubbed a seedling between his fingers and said, “The calendar lies now.” He used to plant by a certain moon. Now he checks the cloud line and hopes.
And 2021 hurt. The quake hit the south. Then Hurricane Grace brought heavy rain on top of it. Tents soaked. Roads split. It felt cruel.
Tools I tried that actually helped
I don’t just watch. I test. Here’s what I carried and used, sometimes daily.
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d.light S3 and S500 solar lamps
- Pros: Charged fast in strong sun. Bright enough to cook and read. The S500 can charge a phone, which was huge during blackouts.
- Cons: If dust covered the panel, it slowed charging. Quick wipe fixed it.
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BioLite CampStove 2+
- Pros: Burned small sticks when charcoal was soaked. Boiled a pot for coffee and rice. The tiny USB port gave my radio a sip of power.
- Cons: Doesn’t like damp wood. I kept dry twigs in a plastic bottle.
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Sawyer Mini filter in a 5-gallon bucket
- Pros: Easy setup. Took the brown edge off flood water after a storm. No weird taste.
- Cons: You need to backflush often. I set phone reminders.
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WhatsApp plus a small FM radio
- Pros: Local groups warned us before big rain. Radio Caraïbes FM kept talking when cell service dropped.
- Cons: Rumors fly. We checked twice before we moved.
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A cheap rain barrel kit and gutter
- Pros: Stored clean roof water for laundry and dishes. Saved us on haul days.
- Cons: Needs a cover, or mosquitoes move in. A bit of screen did the trick.
One more bright spot: EarthSpark’s microgrid in Les Anglais. After a storm, those street lights still glowed. Shops stayed open a little later. Kids did homework. It felt like a small shield, and I won’t lie, I got teary.
Some of the lessons I picked up there echoed what I learned while working with the Caribbean Community Climate Change Centre, where regional projects turn into neighborhood lifelines.
Farms, food, and small fixes
Down in the South, vetiver fields near Les Cayes took a beating from wind. We replanted lines as hedges to hold the soil. It works like a fence that drinks rain. In Artibonite, we mixed rice with more sweet potato and pigeon pea. Those plants don’t mind a dry spell as much.
In Kenscoff, cooler air helps lettuce and carrots, but folks told me coffee moved higher up the hill. Shade trees got thin. Birds got quiet. I missed their morning chatter.
We tried little steps:
- Mulch with dried leaves to keep soil cool.
- Plant trees along gullies (mango, moringa, and breadfruit).
- Dig small stone dams to slow runoff.
It’s not fancy. It helps.
Coastlines and muddy knees
I joined a mangrove planting day near Caracol. We slogged in, calf-deep in silky gray mud. Kids laughed at my boots—fair. We tucked seedlings in rows, toes sinking, salt on our lips. A fisherman tapped my shoulder and said, “These trees keep my boat safe.” Simple words. Big truth. When mangroves hold, waves soften. Fish return. Storm surge loses some bite.
Heat, health, and those tiny choices
Hot days hit harder now. Water runs out faster. And the data agrees; NOAA’s breakdown of climate risks in Haiti shows how rising temperatures and erratic rainfall drive those stressed days. I carried a hat, rehydration salts, and a small LifeStraw just in case. I stored shoes up high after floods, because mold creeps quick. We kept bleach for buckets, and soap by the door. One habit at a time.
And yeah, mosquitoes. Long sleeves at dusk. A fan when we had power. I’m not fussy; I’m just tired of bites.
On the stickiest nights, though, people still crave a little light-hearted escape—something fun that cuts through the blackout gloom. During one of those sweltering evenings I tested InstaBang, an online hookup hub that matches you with nearby singles in seconds; it’s a quick way to find casual company when the rain’s pouring outside and your phone battery is ticking down, giving you a fast dose of human connection before the lights (hopefully) snap back on. If you’d rather scroll traditional personal ads than swipe on a glossy app, the low-data listings on Doublelist Aiken let you sift through nearby connections quickly and start a chat without burning through precious bandwidth.
What I loved, what I didn’t
Loved:
- Neighbors forming a konbit (work crew) to dig drains before rain.
- Solar lamps that turned a dark night soft and useful.
- Mangrove days that felt like a picnic with a purpose.
- The small, surprising benefits—like better solar power reliability—that I wrestled with in The Odd Upsides I’ve Felt from a Warming Climate.
Didn’t love:
- Flash floods that appear from a clear-ish sky.
- Heat that robs sleep and patience.
- Planting dates that never line up with the old wisdom.
Quick scores (because I’m me)
- d.light S500: 9/10 for blackout life. Reliable, tough, friendly to phones.
- BioLite CampStove 2+: 7/10 in the wet season, 9/10 when wood is dry.
- Sawyer Mini bucket setup: 8/10. Keep it clean and it loves you back.
- Community radio + WhatsApp alerts: 8/10 when verified, 3/10 when rumor wins.
- Mangrove planting as coastal “gear”: 10/10 over time. Not fast, but solid.
My plain-spoken take
Climate change in Haiti feels like a push and a pull. Dry, then drenched. Calm, then a wall of wind. You learn to move fast and plan slow at the same time. Sounds like a contradiction, right? Let me explain: we prep days ahead—clean gutters, charge lamps, stash water. Then, when the sky flips, we shift in minutes.
“Dèyè mòn gen mòn,” people say—beyond mountains, more mountains. It’s not just a saying. It’s a map for the heart. You climb, you rest, you climb again.
Would I say hope is easy? No. But hope is busy. For more first-hand stories and community fixes, swing by Our Voices and hear Haitians telling how they meet the same heat and hard rain.
Would I say hope is easy? No. But hope is busy. It looks like a clean filter, a tight roof screw, a tree in wet mud, a light on after dark. It looks like neighbors who show up with a shovel, no questions asked.
You know what? If you’re planning, pack for heat, for flood, for long nights. Solar, water, radio, a way to cook. Then add one thing for someone else. A spare lamp. Extra filter. A little goes far here.
Piti piti, zwazo fè nich li—little by little, the bird builds its nest. That’s the pace. That