Home Sweet Home Haiti
- By: Hermance Fortune (Is this you?)
- Created on: 09/05/2007
- Rated By 1 Users
- Comments: none
It is five o'clock in the morning, and I can already hear the sound of cars driving, the rapid footsteps of citizens walking to places of hope, and vendors preparing their merchandise to sell. The pleasant scent of my grandmother's coffee completely awakens me at around eight o'clock. I rise from my bed, which are basically layers of sheets and a pillow on a solid concrete floor.
I perform my usual routine of bathing and brushing my teeth in the bathroom, which is located outside in the yard and made of long lasting hay-like material that hides only the body. There is not a mirror to look at myself and the ground I stand on consists of rocks mixed with mud. Although the bathroom appears and sounds unsafe, I feel totally secure as I bathe.
After getting dressed, I sit under the tree on a tarnished wooden chair in the yard and gaze at the small, green and dark brown house of only three rooms, located next to the yard. I can see the two dogs and the cat looking for food to eat, the young men across the street playing dominoes laughing and yelling at each other, my two aunts cooking rice and red beans for lunch in the sweltering kitchen and the sweaty sellers carrying their goods under the blazing sun. I hear my little cousins, arguing, laughing and playing hide and seek.
The sound of Kompa music is also heard in the far distance. The tropical, fresh air blows towards me, making my body feel as light as a feather while slightly moving the hairs on my skin. As I reflect about the places I have been to, I realize I have never felt more comfortable anywhere else before.
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