Because We Are: A Novel of Haiti Read Online Free PDF Page A

fair. She had known of a few
milat
, or mixed people, on La Gonâve, but she had not seen so many together at the same time, like they were part of some exclusive club. There were even a few white people who waited to get off the ship, each carrying a large and expensive-looking pack on their backs. Up to now, Libète had seen approximately three
blan
in her life and still found their pink skin a curious novelty.
    She shielded her eyes and watched the crowd move toward buildings at the end of the pier. Vendors descended like vultures, offering services, food, and wares that few wanted. The elite got into private SUVs and trucks while most packed into one of the many waiting taptaps or garishly painted buses. Others yet still haggled over the price of a mototaxi.
    Libète finally stepped down the gangplank herself, putting foot to earth once again. She moved to stand in the narrow shadow of a tall, steel beam that jutted vertically from the dock, part of some unfinished structure. The newfound calm allowed Libète to take in the gargantuan mountains running along the coastline.
Mon dieu, how big they are! So many new things in one day.
    — Libète? Is that you? a timid voice asked from behind. She spun, surprised to greet its owner.
    She faced a young man—or maybe an old boy.
    — Wi, mesye. I am Libète.
    He was twice her height with a body that was gangly and awkward, confused in the throes of puberty. His closely cropped hair was stubby and uneven, framing a pleasant, thin face pocked by acne, and skin a shade lighter than Libète’s own. His mustard-colored polo, black denim jeans, and rubber sandals were all modest.
    — Are you…my cousin? she asked.
    — Wi, he smiled. I’m called Davidson.
    — Ah. I just learned you existed a few hours ago, Davidson, after my mother died and before my father sent me away.
    His kind face became sad. I am sorry for all of this. He paused a beat. But I hope you can forgive me, because unlike you, I’m very happy. He offered a sympathetic smile. Do you know why?
    She shook her head.
    — Because just this morning I found out I have a new cousin, one who is coming to live with me. And that has made me happy.
    This brought a small, bashful smile to her face.
    — Come on, cousin. We need to get home. Are those your things? Here, I’ll carry them for you. You must be very tired. And hungry. Ah! I have some bread for you. Eat this.
    Libète took it gratefully.
    — I borrowed a motorcycle for the trip. It will take us some hours, but after that, you can rest.

    Libète stands in the entrance to the box-like cinema lit by the open door. She breathes heavily. No one moves nor makes a sound—there is only the din of the television in the wake of Libète’s ghastly news.
    Davidson speaks first. That’s a bad joke, Libète. It’s not at all funny.
    —
Listen
to me. I was out in the marsh with Jak looking for bottles. We went into the reeds and found them, Claire and Gaspar. She was cut up all over, and I couldn’t tell what happened to Gaspar, but he’s dead too. Jak is with them, waiting for others to come.
    The televised crowd moaned, a missed goal.
    — You’re serious, then? said another.
    —
Yes!
she shouted. Stop sitting around like a bunch of idiots!
    They all shouted at once.
    — Bondye!
    — How can it be?
    — Who? Who did this?
    Libète didn’t know how or who to give an answer to, and then realized she had no answers to give.
    Yves was the first to act.
    — Laurent, go tell her mother. Get her whatever she needs. I’ll call Officer Simeon and he can get more police. Davidson, go back with Libète to the bodies. Once you get there, give me a call and tell me the
exact
spot.
    — Someone should get some sheets—they’re laying out in the open, Libète interjected ruefully.
    — OK. Samyèl, get something to cover them, too. We need the bodies hidden before family members arrive. Christ, I can’t believe this. Whoever did it is dead—I swear, this will not