Haiti. The '70s. "The grass will only grow…" “…if we water… we need lots of water. And lots of black dirt,” he says. “If we use our cistern water, we’ll have to stop bathing as of right now. It’s not enough. Either bath or grass,” I declare, standing beside him on our terrace, hands on … Continue reading Dèyè mòn gen mòn.
"You are dreaming again," shaking her head, Charlotte darts a disapproving look my way, blue-checkered kitchen towel in hand. I am watching the bird fight in the bird house outside our window, hoping my math problem is solving itself. Some redstarts are fiercely defending their lunch, fighting off an audacious sparrow. Birdseed flying all over … Continue reading Math problem solved
Your seed fell where you didn't expect taking root. Yet, you are well seated, nourished too. You expected drought. Instead, you were watered. Perched high, you bloom and stretch to the sun. Smiling, I greet your sunny face welcoming me this morning.
The Island, Haiti. When I first met her, she was called “Pearl of the Antilles” and life was running peacefully. Despite the paradox of living under dictatorship.
