Haitian sex chat
The next day while driving to Canann, a settlement where survivors were relocated after the earthquake, Rea says to me, “There are some things here that are a historical trauma.” “Like what?
On the long drive one of our group asks about the paramilitary under twentieth-century Haitian dictators Papa Doc and Baby Doc.
“The most difficult part,” Rea continues, “is the mother can never explain to her new son who his father was, because that was her son, too.” Nobody asks again about the Ton Ton Macoute and I am glad.
The desert mountainside is more reminiscent of Nevada than the Caribbean.
All the fixtures of a modern Western life are here, in the house, but outside there is none of the infrastructure to get clean water to these taps.
So we bathe with buckets filled from the tank and hauled up two flights of stairs by the house servant, a man named Gima.
Rea’s family friend, Paul, joins us for dinner that night.
Rea tells us the story of where she was when the earthquake hit.
Many people wear sneakers, white Nikes covered in red mud.The TV was on, as it usually is, tuned loudly to a gruesome true crime show.