Part 3 - Border Market at Elias Pina

As soon as we left the funeral we came upon cement block houses, the only ones we've seen on the entire trip and undoubtedly built by an international relief agency.

We finally arrive at Elias Pina, a small border city that rests in atop a fertile mountain valley. Three times a week a border market transforms the city's streets into seemingly bustling activity. The goods were similar to the ones in Dajabon: enriched imported pasta, cheap imitation perfume, toilet paper, powder soap, socks, plantains, etc.

But Elias Pina was marked by a pervading feeling of apathy and hopelessness. It looked like I was the only foreigner there and yet no one tried to hawk me their wares. Merchants fell asleep atop their goods or left their stands unattended (most of the merchants are women, and they pay a small fee for a slice of sidewalk.)

Dajabon Market - Dominican/Haitian Border

The pervading smell of sweat,
t-shirts marked by cruel irony;

The sight of doubled over humans weighed down by cargo, assuming roles traditionally designated for mules and donkeys;

Upright women bearing hundreds of pounds atop their heads as if their load were a jeweled crown.

The scene: An unregulated, informal, and burgeoning market along the Dominican-Haitian border that moves approximately $22 million Dominican pesos each day, making it and similar markets the third most important factor in the economy after remittance checks and tourism.

Just as Sisyphus was condemned to the perpetual task of rolling a rock up a hill only to have it fall again, the Dajabon market goers, whose only offense is being born in the Western Hemisphere’s poorest country, are constantly transporting endless amounts of plantains, ice, multicolored popcorn, and yams only to slide back into vertiginous poverty.