Read Online Because We Are: A Novel of Haiti by Ted Oswald - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ted Oswald
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you know.
—
Libète
, Simeon warned.
— It’s alright, Dimanche said. You two have proven useful. Though there’s not much to share. Claire was well-liked. We spoke to her mother and some of her friends, including your cousin and his group. None could think of a reason why anyone would do this. There are many questions, and few leads. Even if Jak is correct about this Ezili connection, it doesn’t explain much. Why was she alone in the marshes? How did she get there? She wasn’t dragged.
— And the child’s paternity, Simeon added.
— Right. No one, not even her mother, knows who the father of the child was. It’s something Claire didn’t tell a soul. This is a difficult case. We have few resources and as I said, there are too many crimes to investigate them all to their conclusion. The world does not stand still for anything.
His ambivalence troubled Libète.
— But certainly these two, before anyone, must deserve justice! So young! So innocent!
Dimanche’s brow furrowed.
— I appreciate your earnestness. But it’s no surprise that such a thing would happen in Cité Soleil. If you want justice you must go and find it for yourself. And then, if you happen to come upon it, you must tell me where it is. I have been looking for justice here in Haiti for a long time, too long, and I am more and more afraid it cannot be found.
This was a heavy thing for the girl. She looked at Jak, who seemed much more ready to accept Dimanche’s resignation. Simeon signaled that it was time to go and opened the door. The two children filed out of the office and Simeon closed the door behind him.
Dimanche chuckled to himself, thinking of Libète’s unfiltered boldness and Jak’s quiet intelligence, before his investigation sobered him again. He returned to his chair and grimly resumed committing his thoughts to his pad of paper.
INDEPENDENCE DAY
Bat chen an, tanm mét li
Beat the dog, wait for its master
Merite pa mande
Deserving doesn’t beg
The Sun is magnificent, proceeding along its course and flooding the marshlands with a light that makes one’s skin tingle and come alive.
Libète is here, and alone. The tall, proud reeds are still laid low from the crowd’s trampling. The spilled blood has dried and is hard to see, absorbed into the muddy earth.
She sits carefully to avoid soiling her dress, and closes her eyes, breathing deeply.
Is it strange to be back here? To be stuck on these deaths, to carry them with me?
An acute tingling sensation begins to crawl up the ridges of her spine. The muscles of her neck and shoulders tense and she clenches her teeth until they shoot with pain. She is no longer alone.
It is San Figi, suddenly appearing before her.
— I saw you the other day, Libète says. In the crowd. She tries to avoid the spirit’s vacant face, a swirling void of black and color. I’m sorry that I ignored you.
The figure stands there. She looks like other middle-aged women, heavyset with large arms, a stooped frame, and sagging curves in places not likely there in her youth. Her face has no features, no mouth to speak. She wears the same dark green dress full of patterned shapes of leaves, corals, and berries that Libète has seen many times before. The large blood stain is of course there as well, spilling out over her abdomen and covering her front and backside.
— Why are you here? She hated the feeling of gravity intensifying whenever San Figi was close.
The woman pointed to the ground with a flick of her wrist, drawing a circle in the air to mark where the bodies had been found.
— It’s been so long since we last met. I had nearly forgotten.
The figure drew the circle again and this time pointed at Libète.
— What? What is it you want? The child’s temper began overtaking her fears. The apparition took a step closer and repeated the gesture, circling the air and pointing more emphatically to Libète. Yes, I know you want me to do something about the murders, but what? I’m
—
Libète
, Simeon warned.
— It’s alright, Dimanche said. You two have proven useful. Though there’s not much to share. Claire was well-liked. We spoke to her mother and some of her friends, including your cousin and his group. None could think of a reason why anyone would do this. There are many questions, and few leads. Even if Jak is correct about this Ezili connection, it doesn’t explain much. Why was she alone in the marshes? How did she get there? She wasn’t dragged.
— And the child’s paternity, Simeon added.
— Right. No one, not even her mother, knows who the father of the child was. It’s something Claire didn’t tell a soul. This is a difficult case. We have few resources and as I said, there are too many crimes to investigate them all to their conclusion. The world does not stand still for anything.
His ambivalence troubled Libète.
— But certainly these two, before anyone, must deserve justice! So young! So innocent!
Dimanche’s brow furrowed.
— I appreciate your earnestness. But it’s no surprise that such a thing would happen in Cité Soleil. If you want justice you must go and find it for yourself. And then, if you happen to come upon it, you must tell me where it is. I have been looking for justice here in Haiti for a long time, too long, and I am more and more afraid it cannot be found.
This was a heavy thing for the girl. She looked at Jak, who seemed much more ready to accept Dimanche’s resignation. Simeon signaled that it was time to go and opened the door. The two children filed out of the office and Simeon closed the door behind him.
Dimanche chuckled to himself, thinking of Libète’s unfiltered boldness and Jak’s quiet intelligence, before his investigation sobered him again. He returned to his chair and grimly resumed committing his thoughts to his pad of paper.
INDEPENDENCE DAY
Bat chen an, tanm mét li
Beat the dog, wait for its master
Merite pa mande
Deserving doesn’t beg
The Sun is magnificent, proceeding along its course and flooding the marshlands with a light that makes one’s skin tingle and come alive.
Libète is here, and alone. The tall, proud reeds are still laid low from the crowd’s trampling. The spilled blood has dried and is hard to see, absorbed into the muddy earth.
She sits carefully to avoid soiling her dress, and closes her eyes, breathing deeply.
Is it strange to be back here? To be stuck on these deaths, to carry them with me?
An acute tingling sensation begins to crawl up the ridges of her spine. The muscles of her neck and shoulders tense and she clenches her teeth until they shoot with pain. She is no longer alone.
It is San Figi, suddenly appearing before her.
— I saw you the other day, Libète says. In the crowd. She tries to avoid the spirit’s vacant face, a swirling void of black and color. I’m sorry that I ignored you.
The figure stands there. She looks like other middle-aged women, heavyset with large arms, a stooped frame, and sagging curves in places not likely there in her youth. Her face has no features, no mouth to speak. She wears the same dark green dress full of patterned shapes of leaves, corals, and berries that Libète has seen many times before. The large blood stain is of course there as well, spilling out over her abdomen and covering her front and backside.
— Why are you here? She hated the feeling of gravity intensifying whenever San Figi was close.
The woman pointed to the ground with a flick of her wrist, drawing a circle in the air to mark where the bodies had been found.
— It’s been so long since we last met. I had nearly forgotten.
The figure drew the circle again and this time pointed at Libète.
— What? What is it you want? The child’s temper began overtaking her fears. The apparition took a step closer and repeated the gesture, circling the air and pointing more emphatically to Libète. Yes, I know you want me to do something about the murders, but what? I’m
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