Because We Are: A Novel of Haiti (46 page)

— You surely have repented enough, Libète said under her breath.

Elize swallowed hard.

— When I was consumed with hope to change the whole world, my ambitions did great harm. I learned contentment along the way, to understand my limits, to be faithful in small ways to few things.

— But to stop teaching? Cutting yourself off from all others?

— I…couldn’t return to life as it was before. I had committed so much to my new way of living. I thought I didn’t deserve companionship. I was mistaken, I see that now. You showed me that, starting that day you crashed into me on the edge of the reeds and this all began. Though it was born from sorrow, from another murdered mother and child, it gave me new life. That’s how life is—how God works with the tragedies we create.

She shook her head. I have no words for this, Elize, no words at all.

— You have known loss, Libète, but not my loss. Please don’t judge me too harshly.

— Don’t you recognize me? Libète steps closer to Marie Elise and pulls off her cap, hoping the old woman will now see her for who she is.

There is silence.

— It’s me, Libète murmurs. Your old neighbor. Sophia’s daughter.

The silence lingers.

— You are troubling me, girl. Be off.

Libète can fathom none of this.

— But—I’ve come so far, she stammers.

— Who are you?

— I told you! I’m Libète. Marie Elise, you helped raise me—you were there when my mother died!

— I don’t remember such things.

Libète notices how boney the woman is, how gaunt she has become. She tries again.

— I am Limyè’s daughter—the police officer’s.

— Ah, I know a Limyè. He’s a good man.

— How…how can you say that? She stepped toward the woman, making her flinch and look away.

— He came and took me away! Made my mother sick. The memories came in a flood. He pushed you down! A good man? He’s a devil!

— Shut your mouth! Don’t speak ill of others. God hears all, you know.

— You’re…you’re crazy! You hear me? Gone! Out of your head! She is in Marie Elise’s face, screaming the words. Hope is dead, and the tears fall in bitter tracks down her cheeks.

— What are you doing? a familiar, feminine voice rebukes Libète. Leave her be!

Libète spins around and wipes her face, shocked to see the nurse she left on the road a few hours before.

She too is surprised to see Libète.

The two spoke simultaneously.

— Is she your patient?

— Is this your aunt?

— Yes, replied the Nurse.

— No, replied Libète.

The Nurse moved to the distraught woman’s side, placing a bracing arm around her and lifting her to her feet. You should not be in the Sun like this, the Nurse whispered sweetly to the woman. We have talked about this before, no?

— Is that so? I…I don’t remember.

She moved her to sit on an upside-down bucket under her shelter’s overhang.

Libète followed at a distance, unsure of her feelings. The Nurse returned to the girl, a scowl darkening her face.

— Why are you here? she said, her harsh tone returned.

Libète winced. I lied to you earlier. I had hoped to find this woman, who was a good woman, who once knew me well.

— She is sick, but still good. Her mind is fleeting, coming and going. I visit her once a week when I come to this settlement.

— Then she is gone, Libète lamented. And I have no one.

The Nurse took a deep breath. She doesn’t understand what she says much of the time.

— Then she understands sometimes? Libète moved to Marie Elise and dropped to her knees, taking the woman’s frail hand. She recoiled but Libète held on, pleading. You were so strong, my friend, so very strong. Please come back to me, she cried. I need you, this very minute.

The woman looked at Libète, saying nothing though her demeanor relaxed.

A question donned on Libète. Where is your husband?

— My husband? Why, he is dead.

— I’m…sorry to hear it.

— The men. They came and killed him.

Libète looked to the nurse. Wha–what is she saying? What men?

She shrugged in return.

— Marie Elise, who were these men?

— Dumas’ vagabonds! They came from the hills.

The Nurse suddenly tensed. We can’t talk about this, she hissed. Not here, not now.

— You can’t silence me! hollered Marie Elise with a newfound fierceness, pulling her hand from Libète’s. Dumas is a brute! A devil! He can kill me too! I don’t care!

— Dumas? Libète asked, looking to the Nurse again. I don’t know this name.

— Shh!

— One of the Haitians gone abroad, Marie Elise spit. A villain from the other side. He controls this part of La Gonâve. It got worse after Sophia left us. Everything got so much worse.

Libète shot up at the mention of her mother. Marie, you remember Sophia now?

— Of course I remember her.

— But I told you, that is my mother!

— But I don’t know you!

Libète grimaced. That doesn’t matter. What got worse? What do you mean?

— Dumas controls the whole zone. He grew up here but went to America. He became a big man, lots of money, and brought it back to push people around. In America there are laws, here there are not. You do what you want—no consequences. He sent his men to scare people, push them off their land, steal their livestock. You tell the police, they do nothing. Dumas’ men come in the night, take you, kill you. That’s what happened to my man.

— We need to stop talking about this—now! the Nurse hissed.

— I need to hear it. I need to understand. Please, just a little more. Marie, why did you leave your home? What happened to Sophia’s home?

— The earthquake! The earthquake happened, child! People came back to La Gonâve from Port-au-Prince, those who had lost their homes there. The big organizations wanted to build shelters and needed a place to spend their money. Dumas had this forsaken land. What did he do? Pushed us out! Made us refugees with the rest! Gave his own people our homes and land!

— Mon dieu!

— We complain, our world ends.

— Was Limyè in Dumas’ pockets then?

— What? Limyè? Watch what you say, child. No, of course not. I told you! He is a good man.

— You’re confused, Libète corrected her.

— No. No! Marie Elise shot up.
He
stood up to them. You asked about Sophia’s home? That was his place! Burnt to the ground.

— Limyè stole my home?

— No, child! He
protected
it! He fought Dumas and had to hide. They tried to sneak up on him, burn him to death where he slept, but he made it out, gras a dieu!

This tale was too unbelievable, too unfathomable. Libète felt as if the ground was shaking again, that her world was going through another seismic shock greater than the quake itself.
My father? Capable of good? Could it be?

— Where is he then, Marie? Where is Limyè now? I must know.

She pulled the child close and whispered in her ear. He is in hiding, not far I hear, and going by a different name.

— Do you know it? Do you know his name?

— I do. And since I believe you when you say you are his daughter, I will tell you. But if I do, you walk down a road impossible to come back from. You will become Dumas’ newest enemy.

Libète looked her old, lost friend directly in the eye.

— Tell me.

Their minds are burdened with too many things for their few years. Benoit’s culpability mingled with Elize’s truths weigh heavily on Jak and Libète. The weariness of the night before is too much, and Sister Françoise lets them sleep away the day with her in her back office. Jak uses a chair cushion to rest his head against the wall, and Libète uses Jak’s shoulder. The doctor nun sits in an office chair, her head buried in her forearm atop her desk.

Jak stirs. He is groggy, as if drugged. He rubs his heavy eyes and swallows, his throat a desert. The world outside the small office is mad, and he hears the same tired, anguished moans from the night before, but he also hears new volunteers chattering in English. He is glad he doesn’t know what they say. He could not handle it. He sees the light and shadows streaming in the ward at strong angles—the day has grown long in his sleep.

He suddenly realizes that Libète is no longer at his side. He looks about, noticing a scrap of paper on the floor with her looping handwriting. He reads it, squinting through eyelids that feel like sandbags:

Jak—

I have a question I need answered. I’ll let you know the question once I have found my answer.

Find Davidson, wherever he’s campaigning. He’ll be unhappy that I disappeared again. Talk to him, convince him of the truth about Benoit. We have little time.

Wherever you end up, I’ll find you.

Libète

He mulled over the paper before crumpling it and putting it in his pocket. He slipped through the office door, careful to not wake the Sister—she was snoring lightly out of the side of her mouth and deserved not to have her sleep disturbed.

**

The booming music could be heard all across Cité Soleil. Benoit’s campaign seemed to have waited to blow out its speakers for these final days before the election. The low bass made Jak tremble, the beats representing Benoit’s penetrating reach into every corner and lane of the slum.

The sad concrete park at the heart of Cité Soleil had become a displaced persons camp after the quake. That fact didn’t stop the campaign from attracting thousands of people there today, flooding the park grounds. Jak noticed some tenants holding improvised weapons, trying to keep the crowds from invading their tents and trampling their families underfoot.

As Jak approached the stage at the center of it all, chills skipped up and down his spine. He had appreciated the security of having Libète nearby the past day to comfort him as he carried the knowledge of Benoit’s guilt. Now alone, it was like holding a lit stick of dynamite. Whenever the chanting of Benoit’s slogan started again, Jak felt an overwhelming desire to hide. If he made the truth known, it would turn this ecstatic mob into his enemy. The sovereign people, the Pèp la, was a strange thing—the messy heart of democracy, so prone to manipulation.

He spotted Davidson but knew reaching him would be hopeless until the rally came to an end. Rather than piped-in music from a CD, this time a reputable konpa band was playing, and even Jak was caught up in the music. Benoit stood up to give the same rote speech he had the day before and left the stage in a hurry, leaving his campaign assistants to shower the crowds with photo cards depicting Benoit’s face and party symbol.

It was late now, and the crowd started to scatter once the music quieted. The young campaigners and their girlfriends formed a nucleus at the center of the stragglers, breaking out beers and tafya for an impromptu after-party. It was strange being out so late—boarding school life had made such excursions impossible. Still, Jak’s sleeping schedule had been cast aside, and the late hour wasn’t affecting him.

He watched Davidson from behind the stage’s rigging for about fifteen minutes, trying to find the best moment to approach him. He was speaking with another young man unknown to Jak, and they stood off to the side with arms crossed as they nursed bottles of Prestige, trying to appear disinterested in the other young men surrounded by women at the center of the crowd.
Davidson, Davidson. Always on the outside, even when on the inside.
Jak crept toward him.

— Psst. Davidson.

He did not hear him. Davidson! Jak said, more loudly this time.

He and his companion turned.

— Davidson, I need to talk to you.

— Jak? Jezi Marie Joseph, is that you? I haven’t seen you in months! His smile put Jak at ease. You look good! Healthy. Clean!

Jak smiled in return. I’m a new person, he said bashfully.

— You were here for the Senator’s rally? For the concert?

— I was here for the candidate’s rally, yes. And the music was good. He bit his lip for a moment before blurting out, Can I talk to you, Davidson. Just the two of us?

Davidson looked to his friend, who shrugged. Davidson signaled to a quiet side of the stage, away from the din.