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

those on La Gonâve, seem so different?
    And please do nothing for my father, for he has been very, very bad to me.
    Amen.
    As they neared the place called Cité Soleil, Sun City, she saw the wide emerald expanses of open fields and undeveloped land transform into a vast plain of tin-roofed shacks and hovels. It was not what she pictured.
    — Ah! There are so many homes! she remarked, even though she had meant her words only for herself.
    Above the tin roofs she saw countless wires running from poles.
Elektrisite?
she asked her cousin. He chuckled. Wi, he replied. Electricity.
    — In our home?
    — Only when God or the electric company decide to give it. He could tell by her silence that his answer confused her. Yes, we have electricity, but only sometimes, and we don’t know when.
    — Ah. And what about latrines?
    — We have one. But most people just find a place to go when no one’s looking, or do their business in a bag.
    — Are we rich then?
    Davidson did not respond right away. No, we are not rich. But we aren’t the poorest. You’ll see what I mean.
    Davidson slowed and turned the motorcycle off the main road and onto Impasse Chavannes, the access road into Bwa Nèf. She was amazed by how many people were out, though most sat in shadows to escape the Sun. She had not noticed the heat radiating from the pavement and concrete homes until the bike slowed and cool air ceased flowing past. It was very hot, more so than on her island.
    Davidson brought the cycle to a stop at the entrance to a stretch of homes built along a straight concrete path, each one uniform and sharing a wall with the next. Narrow channels had been left when the walkway was laid to let waste water run into a ditch at the opposite end. Davidson helped Libète off the bike and carried her sack. She hopped over the channel, touching a light blue wall as if it was a precious metal.
    These homes seemed more solid than those she’d seen on the drive in, shelters that were cobbled together from metal debris, junk lumber, and cardboard. No, these were built with brick and stucco, and equipped with cast iron doors and colorful barred windows. She caught up to him, counting the number of doors they passed before reaching Davidson’s:
en, de, twa, kat, senk
. Just as in La Gonâve, her new home was the fifth! This was a good sign.
    Davidson tried to open the door but found it locked. He rested a hand on the barred window and shouted inside.
    — Manman! We’re back!
    Libète was suddenly horribly aware she wore her same frayed pink dress with the broken zipper, hardly the clothes to make a first impression. She squirmed, worried what her not-rich-but-not-poor aunt might think.
    — I’m coming! was shouted back.
    Davidson turned to Libète. My mom runs a restaurant,
Restaurant Estelle
, out of the back of the house. It’s pretty good food. This house is ours, and so are the next two as well, all joined together with wide holes in the walls. You’ll see why.
    The bolt holding the door in place slid and screeched before opening inward. Out of the dark interior appeared a huge woman dripping in her own sweat.
    — Oh, my son! You’ve returned. And with my new daughter! Davidson kissed her cheek, and she bent as low as she could so that Libète could do the same. She next shook Libète’s hand, drew her own back, eyed it, and reached for a small towel hanging from a pocket in her grease-stained apron. She offered a strained smile.
    — Come inside, come inside, she invited. I’m busy preparing for evening business. I musn’t be distracted for too long!
    The two followed, stepping into the entry room, much cooler than under the harsh sunlight outside. Libète couldn’t help staring at her Aunt Estelle lumbering about the room before collapsing in a chair that looked specially reinforced to support her extraordinary girth.
    — It must be nice to have finished your travels, girl. It sounds like you’ve had a very bad day. But you can put all of that