Serafina's Promise

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Serafina's Promise Page 12

by Ann E. Burg


  on the road to the city.

  Serafina! Papa says. Slow down.

  I take a deep breath.

  I just wanted to ask Antoinette Solaine

  what to do for Gregory’s rash

  because Gogo’s herbs aren’t working

  and it’s my fault

  we don’t have enough coins

  to take him to the clinic.

  But the earthquake came

  and I thought you would be waiting

  by the President’s Palace

  but the palace isn’t there, Papa,

  and I lost my shoes but they hurt

  my feet. Even in school they hurt

  and I can’t always concentrate

  on what Monsieur Leblanc says.

  Mwen regrèt sa!

  I should have gone straight home.

  Papa holds me so tight

  that the waves stop pushing.

  You didn’t go right home

  after school?

  No, Papa. Mwen regrèt sa.

  I am so, so, so sorry.

  Manman trusted you.

  She needed you.

  My heart shrinks in shame.

  Mwen regrèt sa.

  We need to find her.

  Papa, I saw Antoinette Solaine.

  She said the earthquake damage

  is mainly here in Port-au-Prince

  and the homes closest to the city.

  She said our house is most likely safe.

  Mèsi Bondye, Papa says,

  closing his eyes.

  When he opens them,

  he just looks at me

  and doesn’t say anything.

  He knows I betrayed Manman’s trust—

  and his.

  How will he ever forgive me?

  Serafina, he says,

  his hands gripping

  my arms.

  Before he can speak,

  I tell him

  through my tears

  over and over again

  how sorry I am.

  I know I should have gone

  straight home.

  Serafina, he says softly,

  his eyes

  searching mine.

  If you had,

  I never would have

  survived.

  You looked for me.

  You didn’t give up.

  You saved my life.

  We hold each other

  for a long time.

  I feel Papa’s shoulders tremble.

  You’re safe, Papa,

  I whisper. Bondye bon.

  Bondye bon,

  I think to myself.

  God really is good.

  God took my mistake

  and made a miracle.

  Papa, I whisper.

  I found Julie Marie too.

  She’s in the hospital tent.

  I promised I’d go back for her.

  Her leg is badly hurt.

  I tell him about Julie Marie’s aunt,

  who wasn’t really her aunt.

  Now Julie Marie is all alone.

  Can’t we take her home with us?

  I’ll share my rice with her,

  and we can work together in the garden,

  and help Manman,

  and sell more peppermint.

  Papa takes my hand and we walk

  back to the white tent.

  If she can be moved, he says,

  we’ll take her with us.

  Outside the tent,

  people with empty buckets

  line up to gather water gushing

  from a large white truck.

  Eskize mwen, eskize mwen.

  Excuse me, Papa says,

  as we limp into the tent.

  Serafina! Over here!

  Julie Marie sits

  on a long table,

  her leg stretched out

  in a clean white bandage.

  You found your papa!

  she exclaims.

  She gives him

  a wide smile

  and he hugs her.

  The woman with

  the gray eyes appears

  holding two bottles of water

  and four packages of biscuits.

  This is my papa, I say,

  and my heart bursts with joy.

  She smiles and hands us

  the water and biscuits.

  You left before breakfast,

  she says to me.

  Mèsi! Is Julie Marie

  strong enough

  to come with us?

  Her leg was badly slashed

  but not broken.

  Others are much worse.

  If your papa carries her,

  she’ll be fine.

  Papa lifts Julie Marie in his arms.

  Just as we are leaving,

  Antoinette Solaine appears.

  Serafina! she calls.

  I found my papa! I blurt out

  and she smiles at us both.

  You have a brave daughter,

  she says to Papa.

  Papa nods and smiles at me.

  Wi. My brave Serafina.

  Thank you for keeping her safe.

  Antoinette Solaine looks at me

  and shakes two small bottles.

  These vitamins are for Gregory.

  She opens the bottle

  and shows me

  how to squeeze the dropper

  so that the liquid rises inside.

  Just up to this line.

  And just once a day.

  And this is a cream for his rash.

  Again, just once a day

  will be enough.

  Then she asks Papa

  exactly where our new house

  is located.

  He tells her and

  she promises to visit

  as soon as she is able.

  Remember what

  we talked about, Serafina.

  Think about what I said.

  We need you.

  I smile and nod.

  Mèsi, Papa says.

  Mèsi, Julie Marie and I repeat.

  Together, the three of us

  leave the white tent

  to make our way home.

  The heavy smell of sweat

  and sorrow choke me,

  but gratitude and hope

  spin a sheltering cocoon.

  Twilight begins to burn

  the corners of day.

  Slowly Papa, Julie Marie, and I

  wobble through the ruins.

  People stop moving

  and begin to make

  small shelters

  from sheets and shirts

  draped over crushed fences

  and steel posts.

  I want to keep walking,

  but Papa shakes his head.

  The journey will be too long

  and difficult

  without daylight to guide us.

  We have no sheets

  and only the thin, sweaty

  shirts on our backs.

  Papa offers a family

  a package of biscuits

  in exchange for a large,

  flattened cardboard box.

  He sets Julie Marie down.

  I snuggle close beside her,

  making room for Papa too.

  I’ll be right back, Papa says.

  He leaves to help a family

  drape a torn sheet

  over three large sticks.

  Sheets and sticks don’t make

  a very strong home,

  but sometimes neither do

  wood and cement.

  I watch Papa’s arms stretch

  wide and strong

  against the darkening sky.

  The only unbreakable home

  is one made from love.

  Julie Marie closes her eyes.

  Let’s hurry and sleep.

  Tomorrow I’ll see my family.

  I remember my promise

  to always be tr
uthful.

  Julie Marie, I whisper,

  I need to tell you something.

  She opens her eyes and smiles.

  You like to talk when I like to sleep.

  I push the words out quickly

  so I won’t lose my courage.

  Your family moved away.

  Julie Marie’s face crumples.

  After you left, they left too.

  I don’t understand.

  After you left, your papa

  came to tell us

  that your family

  was going to Saint-Marc

  to look for work.

  The weight of our sadness mingles

  with the deepening dusk,

  and neither of us speaks.

  Then, suddenly,

  Julie Marie’s face brightens.

  That’s good news, Serafina!

  Saint-Marc is far from here.

  Very far.

  Now I’m sure my family

  is well and safe!

  But, Serafina—my leg—

  where will I stay

  until I’m strong again?

  I squeeze Julie Marie’s hand.

  Papa says you can stay with us!

  I’ll take care of your wound,

  and when you’re well again,

  we can both work in the garden

  and help Manman.

  Can your papa get word

  to my family—

  to let them know that I’m safe?

  Manman must be worried.

  Of course, I say.

  What about school?

  Julie Marie asks.

  You haven’t told me

  about school.

  Remember, you promised

  to teach me

  everything you learned.

  And I will! I say.

  Learning French

  to become doctors

  seems silly,

  but for now that’s what

  we need to do.

  You can practice

  while your leg heals.

  I tell Julie Marie

  what Antoinette Solaine said

  about helping in the clinic.

  Maybe you can help too.

  Someday we really will be doctors,

  Julie Marie says.

  If we don’t lose hope,

  it will happen.

  Wi! Wi! I say, feeling

  the truth of that in my heart

  and remembering my promise

  to honor Granpè and his dream.

  Maybe someday we’ll find Nadia too,

  Julie Marie says.

  An old sorrow and shame

  burn in my stomach.

  When I saw Nadia at the parade,

  I confess, I pretended I didn’t.

  I used to be jealous of her.

  Julie Marie nods.

  I know, she whispers.

  But you never were.

  How come?

  Manman says everyone

  has their own path.

  And everyone’s path

  has both flowers and thorns.

  Your manman is right, I say.

  I wish I could tell Nadia

  that I’m sorry.

  I wish I could tell her

  how pretty she looked in her

  yellow uniform.

  Maybe one day you will tell her,

  Julie Marie says.

  Maybe one day we will find her.

  Wi! The important thing

  is to never give up.

  Julie Marie winces and rubs her leg.

  You should rest, I say.

  If you want to get better,

  you need to rest.

  Julie Marie laughs.

  You already sound like a doctor.

  I will rest if you stop talking!

  Papa comes back.

  Go to sleep, Serafina,

  he whispers as he lays down.

  It’s been a long day.

  I rest my head on his chest.

  Through his damp shirt,

  I hear his heart beat softly.

  Bom-bom

  Bom-bom

  Bom-bom

  In the distance,

  someone plays the drums.

  Bom-bom

  Bom-bom

  Bom-bom

  People sing quietly.

  Bondye bon.

  Bondye bon.

  God is good.

  Already Julie Marie

  has fallen asleep.

  Before long, Papa snores

  in rhythm with the drums.

  I close my eyes.

  I thank God

  for keeping my friend

  and my family safe.

  Tonight the stars

  dangle and dance clearly.

  Was it just three days ago

  that I kissed Manman good-bye

  and Monsieur Leblanc stood

  tapping at my table?

  Was it just three days ago

  that the rumbling earth

  shattered our world?

  I think about Jean-Pierre

  and pray

  that he is somewhere safe.

  I think about Julie Marie,

  happy and hopeful even after

  everything she suffered,

  and about Nadia and Papa,

  Manman and Gregory,

  how everyone’s path

  has both flowers

  and thorns.

  I think about Antoinette Solaine

  and her black bag,

  about Gogo and her herbs.

  I wonder about all the people

  wandering in the ruins—

  the bony woman who kept watch

  while I slept—did I thank her?

  The woman and her

  dust-covered baby—

  are they safe?

  There are so many lost

  and broken people.

  How can we help them all?

  Softer than the rustle

  of spider’s silk,

  Manman’s voice

  echoes in my mind.

  Ou dwe brav, Serafina.

  Life is hard,

  but no matter what happens,

  we beat the drum

  and we dance again.

  I reach into my pocket

  and wrap my fingers

  around my heart-shaped rock.

  Dust and debris are everywhere,

  but in my hand,

  my heart-shaped rock is still

  smooth and firm,

  unchanged by the earthquake.

  Nothing is stronger than love,

  Manman said.

  In my mind, I see her

  stirring rice and plucking bugs.

  I think about her

  growing up without a papa—

  how scared she must have been

  when the Tonton Macoutes

  took him away!

  How scared I was

  when I thought

  I’d lost my papa.

  I think of all Manman’s worries

  hovering like mosquitoes,

  making her brittle and jumpy.

  I think of her carrying me

  in the flood,

  lifting me high

  above the water,

  even though

  I was mad at her.

  Sometimes buzzing bees

  stay too long

  in our brains,

  but only because

  we let them.

  Tomorrow

  when I see Manman,

  I’ll hug her tight.

  I’ll help her sift

  through the rice,

  and tell her

  how much I love her.

  I’ll help her understand,

  I am happy

  with what I have,

  but so many people

  have nothing.

  I only want

  to help them.

  In the growing darkness,

 
voices lower,

  but the drums beat

  soft and steady.

  Above me,

  stars still shine.

  HAITIAN CREOLE

  ALPHABET AND PRONUNCIATION GUIDE

  The Haitian Creole alphabet has twenty-nine letters. Each letter in a word is pronounced, and the last syllable of a word is usually the one that is stressed.

  LETTER PRONUNCIATION

  a short a sound as in apple

  an short a with nasal tone

  b same as English

  ch sh sound as in share

  d same as English

  e long a sound as in play

  en short e sound with nasal tone

  è short e sound as in fed

  f same as English

  g same as English

  h ch as in chop

  i ee as in feed

  j s sound as in treasure

  k same as English

  l same as English

  m same as English

  n same as English

  o long o sound as in hope

  on long o with nasal tone

  ou oo sound as in school

  ò aw sound as in paw

  p same as English

  r same as English

  s same as English

  t same as English

  ui oo-ee sound as in Louie

  v same as English

  w same as English

  y same as y in yellow

  z same as English

  GLOSSARY OF FOREIGN PHRASES

  Words and phrases are Haitian Creole. Those noted with an asterisk (*) are French.

  Ale lwen (AL-e lWEN) — Go away

  Babay (bye-BYE) — Good-bye

  Bondye bon (bon-DJAY bon) — God is good

  Bonjou (BON-zure) — Hello

  *Bonjour (bohn-ZURE) — Hello

  Bwa sèch (BWA sesh) — Literally, dry wood. But when used as the response to tim tim, it signals the storyteller to begin

  Dèyè mòn gen mòn (deh-yeh moan gay-EN moan) — Behind the mountains, there are mountains

  Dousman (DOOS-man) — Be gentle

  Ede mwen (eh-DEH mwen) — Help me

  Eskize mwen (es-KEEZE mwen) — Excuse me

  Granmè/Granpè (gran-MEH/gran-PEH) — Grandma/Grandpa

  *Je m’appelle (jhuh ma-PEL) — My name is

  Jou Lèmò (joo le-MO) — Day of the Dead

  Jwaye Nwèl (jwa-yay nWELL) — Merry Christmas

  Kenbo fò (KAN-be foe) — Hold on

  *Le soleil brille (lulh so-LAY breel) — The sun shines

  *Les nuages noirs apportent la pluie (lay noo-ahjh nwahr ah-PORT la ploo-ee) — Black clouds bring rain

  Lespwa fè viv (lespwa FEH veev) — Hope makes us live

  Leve (lay-VYAY) — Get up

  Li rele (lee ray-LAY) — His/her/its name is

  Manman (MON-mon) — Mom, mama

  Mèsi anpil (mehsee an-PEEL) — Thank you so much

  Mwen dwe travay (mwen dway trav-EYE) — I have work to do

  Mwen pè (mwen peh) — I’m scared

  Mwen regret sa (mwen ray-GRET sa) — I’m so sorry

  Mwen renmen ou (mwen rain-MAIN oo) — I love you

 

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