Because We Are: A Novel of Haiti

by Ted Oswald

  He opens his eyes, struggling to focus upon the face that lingers above him. He wonders if an angel has come to take him away, but then recognizes her for who she is.

  — Steffi! he gasps. He reels, straining in his bed, trying to hide from the shame that immediately washes over him.

  Stephanie Martinette, at one time long ago Steffi Jean-Baptiste, places her hand on her father. Stop, she says evenly. The beautiful pity in her voice, so familiar from the radio, stuns him. He cannot look at her face. Tears stream and fall and he cannot speak, only moan in short, uneven sobs.

  — I did not come to scorn. You hurt me, Elize — she does not call him father — and your flight from my life was a sword of sorrow, straight to my heart.

  — How did you — he shuddered — find me?

  — The girl—Libète. She came to me four days ago, at the radio station before the show. She told me that you were ill, near death.

  She noticed the doorman behind her. He had brought a stool, the type worried relatives all over the ward sat on. She took it and sat, nodding graciously. He nodded back and retreated once again.

  — I wrestled with coming. I’ve been angry with you for so, so long. But I thought it a sign. She smiled faintly. After all these years of bitterness shredding my soul, a girl named “liberty” shows up and offers to free me from this heaviness with a chance to reconcile.

  Her shoulders lifted, and she too began to cry. She took his frail hand in her own. She told me about you, Elize, trying so hard to convince me to come. I told her I couldn’t. That I never could. She told me about you exiling yourself and all you had done for her, all you had taught her. She told me of how you listened to my words from afar. And I saw myself in her, and knew that you must as well. Maybe her education was your penance? God brought you two together to restore one another. I saw that you love her—knowing this, somehow, in small part, made it easier to come.

  — My dear girl, Elize was able to say. I’ve wanted to tell you how sorry I am. Of my regret and shame. The guilt—the guilt is too much—

  She leaned in close and whispered in Elize’s ear. The pain is still there, but I have found it in me to forgive you. My parents gave me a good life, a good upbringing. Let’s not dwell upon past hurt with the time that remains.

  He offered short, sharp nods and said weakly, but with great gratitude, “mèsi, mèsi anpil.” You have freed me at long last, Steffi. You’re the only one who could.

  She took out a kerchief from a small purse, offering it to the man to dry his eyes. Even subtle movements brought him great pain now. It would not be long.

  Leaning back, she realized a small boy watched them. He had large, sad eyes and wore a dirtied school uniform.

  — Yes? Stephanie said kindly.

  The boy could not look at her directly, her beauty too much for him. You’re Elize’s daughter?

  — I am.

  It dawned on her.

  — And you’re…Jak, is it?

  He nodded, his own sadness claiming him. So Libète went to find you? The other day?

  — She did.

  — And you came?

  — I did. She craned her neck, looking for the girl. Is she here, Jak?

  The boy struggled to find words.

  — The night she came to you — he swallowed hard — there was great fighting in Cité Soleil. Benoit was arrested.

  — I heard. That he has since been released, but looks to lose the election. I do not know the details of the fighting.

  — It was bad. Very, very bad. And Libète put herself between the different sides and their guns—

  Stephanie gasped, realizing his horrible implication. She’s—dead?

  Jak looked stunned, and shook his head. Oh no—no, no! Sorry for making you think it! She is here, now, recovering. She was shot in the shoulder and is weak, very weak. After she was hit, the young men simply gave up their fighting. Almost all fled and got away. People say they’re all in hiding. But she stopped it, with herself, by herself.

  She turned to Elize who had listened to all this. I will go to her, Elize, and then return.

  — Don’t stay away too long. She squeezed his shoulder and followed after the boy.

  Libète lay immobilized wearing an oversized shirt with the right sleeve torn off, showing off a bandage cobbled together from large antiseptic pads and medical tape. A white woman loomed over her, a doctor by the look of things, and a gaunt young man sat at her side. On locking eyes, Libète’s face lit up without saying a word.

  — Bonswa, Stephanie said, greeting the others.

  — Bonswa, they all said, greeting her in turn.

  — This is Sister Françoise, Jak offered. She is the one who operated on Libète—the one who saved her. Each woman nodded to the other. And this is Lolo, someone Libète has helped very, very much. Lolo offered a small, pained smile and looked away from the beautiful woman. And this is Stephanie Martinette, a poet, teacher and…friend of mesye Elize.

  — I was just checking on Libète and must be going, Sister Françoise said. But it’s nice to meet you, madam.

  — And you as well.

  Stephanie came close to the girl as the doctor moved away. Jak and Lolo both pulled back to let them speak.

  — You came, Libète said weakly, smiling.

  — I came.

  — What changed?

  — I had missed him long enough.

  — I’m glad to see it.

  — Are you recovering, cherie?

  — M’la. My shoulder may not work well, but everything else does.

  Stephanie grinned. I’ll return to you, Libète. I must speak with Elize some more, and maybe the doctor.

  Sadness crossed Libète’s face, her bottom lip twitching.

  The woman stroked the girl’s face with the back of her fingers. Cherie, m’la. I’m here. Here now, and in the future.

  She floated away back toward Elize’s bed just as she had come, leaving Jak and Lolo flanking Libète.

  The girl’s attention turned back toward the young man. He looked exhausted and broken. Surely his illness, Jak thought. And stress.

  — When did they let you go? Libète asked.

  — Yesterday. He took a deep, labored breath. I thought they were just taking me out to see another visitor, maybe my mother, or you two again. When I got to the visitor’s room, they took off my handcuffs. Just like that. No paperwork. No explanation. They just said “go.” He cracked a small smile, a glimmer of the old Lolo the children both knew. So I did.

  Jak and Libète chuckled.

  — And you’re here! Libète said. Now, right in front of us. No bars in between!

  — How does freedom feel? Jak asked.

  Lolo’s shoulders bobbed with indifference. Good. It just feels…good. The answer seemed perfunctory, striking Jak as odd. Being with family, Lolo continued. Sitting at home, eating real food…it’s all, well, good.

  Libète sensed something amiss too. What is it, Lolo? What’s wrong?

  He sighed. I went to the spot.

  — You mean—

  He nodded. Where they died. To say goodbye. To lay them to rest. Her final words to me that morning bouncing around my head…

  His gaze floated away just as his words had.

  — From her voicemail? Jak asked.

  — Voicemail? Lolo shook his head. No, when we spoke. When she told me to come meet her.

  Jak withdrew into his thoughts while Libète spoke up.

  — It’s good you could do that. Say goodbye the right way. She smiled, changing the subject to less heavy things. I’m glad you’re getting treatment for your sickness. It’s like I’m free too, for the first time in a long while.

  — I’m glad. He took another hard breath, and stood. I’m going now.

  — Oh? Already? Where?

  — Not sure. I need to think some things through. Everyone, all the guys, they’re all scattered.

  — You’ll come again? Soon?

  — Before long.

/>   — Good. She moved her injured shoulder. It feels better since you’ve come. You’re good medicine. Lolo patted her head and exhaled.

  — I’ll go out with you, Jak said. To see you off. He turned to Libète. I’ll be back.

  She smiled smugly, closing her eyes and offering a yawn. I may be asleep. All these visitors! They make one so tired…

  Lolo walked with a slow swagger ahead of Jak, each step looking heavy and difficult. Jak limped behind, catching up outside in the courtyard.

  — You spoke with Claire? The morning she died?

  Lolo turned, looking chagrined. Yes.

  — Then you lied before.

  — Wha—what are you talking about?

  — You told us she had left you a message that morning, telling you to come meet her.

  He scowled. So what? he said icily.

  — I had always wondered about that. Why the middle of the reeds? Why so far from everything and everyone?

  — Shut up, Jak.

  — It’s because you told her to be there. Isn’t it?

  — Shut up! he growls, his clenched hand springing toward Jak’s collar and lifting him up.

  Jak doesn’t flinch.

  Others seated around the courtyard look at the pair, both the boy and man acutely aware they are watched. He releases Jak, who stares at him with such intensity that Lolo cannot meet his eyes.

  — The money. It all makes sense. The killer bought you! Jak hissed.

  Lolo, livid now, trembles as he moves to the street.

  — Stop! Jak calls. You talk to me or I’ll call for the police.

  Lolo signals toward one of the walls, still in view of the others but out of their earshot.

  — I didn’t know—I didn’t know he’d kill her! She hurt me, Jak. She was treating me like trash. I didn’t know what he had planned for her. All I wanted was for her to hurt as she’d hurt me!

  — Good God, Lolo! She was trying to protect you the whole time! From Benoit! From the killer!

  — I didn’t know who was behind it, not until you figured it out! I couldn’t know! Claire never said anything!

  — So you set her and her baby up to die.

  — Yes—no! When I got paid later that day, the killer told me they’d kill me if I left. I knew I had to hide. I didn’t know what else to do. I was at their mercy. So I bought a gun, contacted my uncle, and kept quiet in his apartment.

  — They were going to set you up to be arrested all along, but couldn’t find you after you’d run away.

  Lolo nods grimly.

  — But why did you stay behind? Why didn’t you flee when you could?

  — I loved her—love her still. Even after realizing what I’d done. It felt wrong to go.

  Jak stares at the young man, tortured by his own sins and selfishness. He suffered in prison already—he’d die there if returned. He mulls it over, and thinks of Libète.

  — Listen to me, Lolo. You will leave Cité Soleil. You are going to go far from here, so that we never see you again. You’ll disappear. And Libète, your family, they will never know the truth of what you’ve done because it will crush them—it will crush her.

  — If I disappear, her work and sacrifice—it will seem like it was for nothing! That will crush her!

  Jak’s nostrils flair, anger overtaking him. If you don’t disappear I will call the law down on you once again and there will be no release for you this time! To lie, to hide the truth—you deserved everything you got!

  Lolo looks down and away.

  — Be careful what you say, Jak. You may get your other leg broken in the night. Or worse.

  — If you say another word, another syllable, everyone here will know what you did. And you’ll be necklaced in the street in minutes, a tire burning round your neck!

  Lolo is silenced. You wouldn’t do that.

  — I will have Libète protected, Lolo. She’s seen enough, been hurt enough. Go and I’ll not speak a word of what you’ve done. Stay and you’ll see what I can do.

  Lolo’s eyes darted furtively. He cursed the boy under his breath, and much to Jak’s surprise, did exactly as commanded. He left.

  Jak’s head floated and spun like a balloon set free to roam the sky. He braced himself against the compound wall, eyes still upon him. He took four long breaths to calm himself and his nerves before slowly stumbling back into the ward.

  As he moved toward Libète’s bed, bobbing with each uneven step, he watched Elize and Stephanie talk, even laugh. Shall I tell them? Elize had days to live, Sister Françoise had said in hushed tones, and Jak did not want to darken their time together. No. No one can know. He rubbed his nose and exhaled again.

  When he reached Libète, her head was to the side and eyes closed, her breath soft, slow. Jak moved the stool without making a sound and sat, setting his chin on the edge of the bed a few inches from her own face. He could feel Libète’s breath coming in and out through pursed lips, her face tranquil and at rest.

  At long last, she was at peace and unafraid.

  He would not see that change.

  EPILOGUE

  A year and a day later

  Jak steps up on the borrowed chair, using the full strength of his arms to pull himself up and onto the top of the brick wall. He rights himself and looks around for prying eyes before brushing off the new dust covering the front of his uniform, taking in the brilliant pinks and oranges of the darkening sky.

  He stands, balancing himself by reaching for the trunk of a tall palm next to the wall, and walks carefully with the caution of a first-time gymnast. He goes to where the wall stops and the building starts, scaling it with the same difficulty as the wall required. Now on the rooftop, he grimaces.

  — What happened back there? he calls.

  Libète sits on the other end of the roof, legs dangling over the side, dressed in her own uniform. She turns at his voice and offers a smile. The teacher needed telling off, she calls back.

  Jak walks toward her and sits at her side. And why was that?

  — Because Thierry was stealing. Every shift he served in the kitchen, food was disappearing. So I decided to follow him, to watch him. Stupid me, I knocked over a broom and made a sound. He saw me and reported me to Maitre Latour before I had a chance to tell the headmaster. Well, Latour got to me. She told me to mop all the floors.

  — And what did you do?

  Libète shifted uncomfortably, banging her heels against the wall and looking away from Jak. I may have told her to mop them herself.

  Jak nodded. And that didn’t go over well?

  — I lectured her about the wrongness of it all, that I was falsely accused. She wouldn’t have it.

  — So you’re hiding up here?

  — Yes. No—it’s not just that. It’s…

  — I know. It was a year ago, no? That he passed.

  — Yes.

  — Stephanie will be by tomorrow, no?

  Libète’s brilliant smile showed again. She said she would, to take us to the cemetery, and for ice cream.

  Jak nodded, quietly taking in the view.

  Turning to one side of the boarding school, their vantage point let them see the vastness of Cité Soleil and Port-au-Prince. On the other side lay the even greater sea.

  — It’s all so big. So very big, Libète remarked. Countless wrongs, pains, losses, sicknesses, and deaths. Just here in Cité Soleil alone. What do you think it’s like to be God, Jak? Seeing this all, experiencing all of it, all around the world, all the time?

  Jak looked at Libète and shrugged. Who can know? That’s why God is God and we’re not, I suppose. We couldn’t bear it all.

  — I suppose not…

  She trailed off as her eyes remained fixed on the streets below. Jak looked at his friend with fresh concern.

  — We have a responsibility, Jak. This—all of this—it’s ours. We can’t let it slip further away. We’ve got to do what we can so that all that’s wrong doesn’t overtake us…

  He reached out and to
uched her shoulder. She turned to look at him and blinked twice, pulled from her musing.

  — We will, Libète. The boy smiled, patting her on the back. We will. But let’s first go play cards with Laurent and Maxine, before it’s too dark to see. We’ll hide from Latour, and if we get caught along the way, I’ll help you with the mopping.

  Libète smiled back.

  She stood first, brushing off the seat of her school uniform and peering out at Cité Soleil one more time before the Sun settled low beneath the horizon.

  The girl turned and offered her hand to help the boy up.

  — Let’s go to it.

  Acknowledgements

  Any book is born out of community, and though I’ve authored this story, so many have contributed to its shape, its small moments, the sweep of its narrative and any truth it might contain. They deserve my greatest thanks.

  At the top of that list are the residents of Bwa Nèf who befriended me: Guemps, Ti Rennel, Blackenlove, Emmanuel, Serge, Sadrack, Jean Mark, Louis, Monsieur Denis as well as the various children whose playfulness and resolve provided the templates for Libète and Jak. Other friends who guided me include Myrlene “Mimi” Dominique, Junior Abellard, Pastor Walliere Pierre, Emmanuel Jeanitte, Frankel Formétus, Alcégaire Piard, Pastor Simeon Jean, Petit and Darlene Lafleur, Pastor Manasse and Claire Pierre Louis, Moza Flaure-Alcius, Pastor Jacques Metier and the Maitre family among many, many others. Pastor Sadrack Nelson is owed a great debt for aiding with the French and Kreyol throughout the book—any outstanding errors are my own.

  On this side of the water, I have to thank Tom Griffin, Regine Theodat, Brian Concannon, Sarah Johnson, Gilda Jean-Louis and Desiree Wayne. I am deeply grateful to the administration at the Earle Mack School of Law at Drexel University and the Lamp for Haiti’s board and staff for the opportunity to learn and serve in Bwa Nèf.

  Michael Benson’s sure hand and keen eye guided my innumerable revisions, and much thanks goes to Greg Ash, Justin Wright, and Tim Fryett who helped shape the crowdfunding campaign that birthed it. To Wally Turnbull, I give special thanks for his permission to reproduce the majority of Haitian proverbs employed in the text, collected in his volume Hidden Meanings: Truth and Secret in Haiti’s Creole Proverbs.