Rocks in the Water, Rocks in the Sun: A Memoir from the Heart of Haiti

by Vilmond Joegodson Déralciné

  One night after church, I walked Annie back to her sister’s house. She told me that this time I couldn’t leave without saying why I was there. That was going to be tough because I hadn’t yet said anything to anyone. Once in the house, she called her brother-in-law, the policeman. When he came, Annie told him, “Joegodson has something to tell you.”

  He said, simply, “I’m listening.”

  I collected all my courage to announce, “Perhaps Annie is better placed to tell you what we have to say.”

  He boomed, “No! If it was up to her to tell me something, she would just call me to say this or that. She says that it is you that is going to tell me something. What is it?”

  I started to speak, “Normally, you are used to seeing me here visiting Annie. But so as not to hurt my reputation, it’s best that I explain our relationship. That is to say, Annie is my girlfriend.”

  He said, “Well, I am delighted. She has spent much time here with us. We have never had any problem with her. But I am only one member of the family. You must discuss this with the others. For instance, my wife Mme Bolivar and also their mother Mme Dieumerci, since Annie has no father.”

  To help me out, he called his wife to the room. I repeated the same speech to Mme Bolivar, only this time, as things were not going as badly as I had supposed, I filled in some empty spaces with details.

  Mme Bolivar told me that I was welcome in her house. She said that the family was not rich. The only strength they had was in unity. They were nine sisters who were raised by a single mother who worked as a street merchant, selling the manba (a kind of spicy peanut butter) she made herself. When one has a problem, it touches all the others. She said that she appreciated my comportment. She left to continue with her chores, assuring me that I was welcome.

  With that, I left to return to my little room in Delmas 19.

  Now that I was officially accepted, the fears that had kept me silent disappeared. Only Lucy remained to conquer. I tried a number of tactics. I started with the easiest. Each time I visited the house, I brought candies for her. She would accept them, all the while insulting me in terms impressive for a three-year-old. She was going to be tough. Each time I returned, she was waiting at the door with her steely eyes, defying me to proceed. But now I had a weapon to use against her. I knew her weakness. As long as she was accepting the candies from me, I was certain that she would sweeten up.

  One day, Annie’s mother came from the countryside to stay with her daughter Mme Bolivar. They gave her all the details and she asked Annie to bring me to meet her. When I got the message, I hopped on a taptap and headed for Delmas 33. By the time I arrived, her mother was preparing to leave. We met in the entrance. She had the appearance of the elderly street merchants I was used to seeing. She had white hair and an assured character that came from careful business dealings to protect a tiny profit margin. No nonsense.

  Mme Bolivar’s husband, the policeman, was also on the gallery. As soon as I arrived, he asked me if I recognized this woman.

  I replied, “Perhaps I should know her.”

  He said to Annie’s mother, “And you, do you know this young man?”

  Mme Dieumerci replied, with a somewhat suspicious look in my direction, “No! I don’t know him. Why are you asking?”

  I sensed that I had already failed to impress Mme Dieumerci by my physical presence. Whatever she was looking for in a son-in-law, it was clear that it was not the slight man from Simon that stood before her. Perhaps the bar had been set by those who preceded me. Annie had already dated a policeman and, before him, a bank clerk, and, earlier, a Haitian who was important enough to live outside of Haiti. Me, I was in Haiti to stay. I dreaded the questions to come.

  Now Annie had entered the gallery. She greeted me. Then, she turned to her mother, “Mother, this is Joegodson. He is my brother from church and also, he is my boyfriend.” She continued the formal introduction, “Joegodson, this is my mother.”

  I offered my hand and said, “Hello, Mme Dieumerci. Now you have a new son.”

  I stood like a statue with my hand outstretched. She kept her two arms by her side.

  “Where is your father? In the capital or in the country?”

  I answered, “My father lives here in the capital in Simon.”

  “You live with them?”

  “No. I live in Delmas 19.”

  “And your mother?”

  “My mother died in 1999.”

  “How did she die?”

  “She was giving birth, even though the doctors had ordered her not to. She was anemic. By imprudence, she became pregnant. Both my mother and the baby died in childbirth.”

  “Oh! Your father is heartless. He should have listened to the doctors. He killed your mother!”

  She continued, “But if your mother is dead and your father lives in Simon, why do you live in Delmas 19? Who do you live with?”

  “I have lived with some friends since 2003. The person with whom I live has become like my family for me.”

  She then asked, “Do you have a job?”

  “I am simply a little cabinetmaker. Sometimes I work alone, making furniture in the courtyard where I live to sell to passersby. It’s not easy.”

  I could understand why my answers were filling her with doubts. Separated from my family, she assumed that I must be a vakabon. With a voice full of apprehension, she said, “When you have a child, you have to leave her to make her own choice. There is nothing that I can say, but Annie has chosen you.”

  No words could have deflated me more. She was trying to reconcile herself philosophically with a great disappointment. Clearly, if she believed that parents had the right to choose their daughters’ husbands, I would not still be in the race.

  “I have nine daughters. I don’t direct their lives. I follow their collective will. They will have to consider this situation first. After I listen to them, we will have more to say. We don’t do things haphazard. You will have to introduce us to your father also so that we can judge. I have more confidence in the older generation than in the young.”

  When she had finished, she left in a calculated sadness.

  Annie came over to me. Perhaps she saw that her mother’s questions and my answers were weighing heavily upon me. She wanted to reassure me. But that was not in the order of things. “Why did my mother ask you all those questions?” she said innocently.

  I answered, “She was right to ask all that she did. She is doing what any mother should. But my answers were disappointing in their honesty. She has the right to think anything she wants because she is protecting the interests of her daughter.… Only, I noticed that her questions were really focused on improving her family’s condition. They were not about sharing, but rather advancing.… After all, her questions don’t discourage me. Au contraire, they make me even more determined to protect my reputation.”

  Annie said, “Okay, but still, I simply introduced you. Over time, she will get to know you. It’s not by asking questions like that that she can know you.”

  I answered, “Maybe some day my family will hurt you. People sometimes say things that they should not. It’s best to try to understand the mentality of each person. If you don’t, you cannot live on earth. The same person that encourages you one day can deflate you the next. Best to take both in turn.”

  chapter seventeen

  FÉDRIK LEFT DURING THE NIGHT with his friends. They jumped up on the top of a rickety bus piled sky high with sacks of something. They looked like cats balancing themselves on the sacks as the bus swayed from side to side along the Haitian roads, seeming close to tipping over when the potholes were too abrupt and the rocks too large. When they arrived at the border, they pretended that they were merchants selling the stuff they sat on. As money is the key that opens many doors, Fédrik and his friends paid the driver to bribe the border guard to cross into the Dominican Republic.

  Then, they followed mountain paths and rivers to finally arrive in a territory where there were many other Ha
itians who had taken the same route, sometimes many years earlier. They welcomed Fédrik and his friends. They told Fédrik that if he attempted to live openly, he would not last two days here. They told him that Haitians survived in the Dominican Republic by living like rats, hiding from the light of day and scurrying away from all authorities and enemies. It was the only way of life possible.

  Fédrik was intimidated by the advice of the experienced Haitians, called viejo (old ones). They told him that he would need to be strong to protect himself from the Dominicans. They hated Haitians. They will come at you with machetes, they told Fédrik. If you are meek and show fear, they can kill you. Fédrik did not come to the Dominican Republic to fight Dominicans — except in sport. His goal was to help Franchesca escape her peonage in the sweatshops. It was to build a future life, not face a violent death. This was bad news.

  They also told Fédrik that he needed to be willing to work very hard. The only work available for Haitians was cutting sugar cane. If you are afraid of snakes, like most Haitians, then you should return now, they said. In the fields where we work, the snakes are huge, they warned Fédrik, who was starting to wish he had never left Port-au-Prince.

  During the first week of his unofficial apprenticeship in the Dominican Republic, Fédrik cooked for the viejo. They gave him a little money for this service. After that week, he decided to accompany them to work in the fields. Since Fédrik could not speak Spanish, the viejo negotiated with the Dominican bosses on his behalf. Fédrik had to accept whatever pay the viejo said he was earning.

  In time, Fédrik became a part of the viejo community. It was an uncertain existence. After several weeks in one place, they would hear a police vehicle coming for them. They would pack up and flee in minutes. They would find another location in the fields or forests where they could camp until they were smoked out again. Scurrying through the Dominican forests, Fédrik understood what they had meant when they said that he would see life from the perspective of a rat.

  He learned from the viejo by following them. He learned how to work, how to communicate in Spanish, and how to avoid the authorities. From Fédrik, the viejo learned something about the martial arts. They were motivated students. The Dominicans were exceedingly racist toward Haitians. They made good on their threats to attack and beat Haitians. Fédrik taught the viejo how to protect themselves physically from such attacks. The viejo felt more secure, knowing that they could defend themselves.

  Among the Dominicans were young men whose job was to control the Haitians … to terrorize them. One of these thugs worked with the Dominican patrons who hired the Haitians to work their fields. He had heard of the new martial artist. One night, he came to their campsite and told them all to flee, as was his custom: a show of his authority and his brawn. When Fédrik remained seated, he sat next to him, “You didn’t hear me? I said to get out of here.”

  Fédrik gazed calmly at the flames before them.

  “Haven’t you heard of me?” said the Dominican henchman.

  “Maybe you haven’t heard of me,” answered Fédrik without bothering to look at his tormentor. He showed no signs of leaving.

  The Dominican was impressed. Instead of pushing the issue, he offered his hand to Fédrik, saying “Yes, I have heard of you.” He asked Fédrik if he would be interested in taking on a different job in the enterprise. Instead of the backbreaking work of cutting the sugar cane, would he like to learn how to drive a vehicle? It was farm work, but of a higher status. And he would earn the salary of a Dominican.

  Henceforth, Fédrik lived and worked apart from the viejo. He was paid a real salary and was able to rent a room in the fields. When he wasn’t working, he shared his skills in the martial arts with the Dominicans. They didn’t pay him for the lessons; it went without saying that the lessons were part of his exchange for his new job, which surpassed the normal status of Haitians. He had offered the same skills to the viejo for self-protection from the people he now taught.

  He wanted to go back home, but now his higher salary was holding him back. When he returned to Port-au-Prince, he wanted to bring enough with him so that he and Franchesca could unconditionally break the chains that held them in servitude. Franchesca would be free from the sweatshops once and for all. And so he kept working. He would make her happy. She would thank him.

  Also, the thought of returning reminded him that he had no papers. Leaving the Dominican Republic posed more problems than entering. If they found him trying to leave the country without papers, the police and customs agents would rob him before kicking him out. Alternatively, he could take his chances with the bus drivers who specialized in smuggling people across the borders. Either method would be expensive.

  chapter eighteen

  AMONG DELAND’S NEW NEIGHBOURS in Simon back in the 1980s was a woman named Marie. She had worked in La Société Nationale des Parcs Industriels (SONAPI), the large consortium of factories in Port-au-Prince, since she was a young woman. She and her mother had come from Jeremie, the southwest tip of Haiti.

  In the factory, she met another peasant named Pierre, a young man also from Jeremie. He courted her and they became a couple. Because of the very low salaries they received, they couldn’t help each other. But they hoped that, together, they might be able to save enough money to start a family. The young man wanted to continue his academic studies. After a few months, instead of sharing his factory money with Marie, Pierre took courses to advance his academic career. This was fine by Marie. She encouraged him in everything that would lead to a better future for them both. The young man, however, never asked Marie’s mother for her approval, as he should have. He appeared, rather, as a friend from work.

  After a few years, Marie was pregnant with Pierre’s child. That is how her mother discovered the nature of their relationship. As her pregnancy advanced, Marie continued to live with her mother. Pierre came by from time to time to offer some material help. Like Marie, he continued to work in the factories in Sonapi. However, the expense and care of Marie during this time fell upon her mother, a widow who took in laundry to make ends meet.

  When Marie was reaching term, she left her job in the factory and stayed home at her mother’s house. She gave birth to a girl. Pierre could not take care of Marie and the baby. He could barely take care of himself on his salary from the factory. He came by from time to time with a little money. He was ashamed of his impotence to help them. After a few months, he disappeared.

  Marie’s mother had a difficult time coping with the new situation. Her house of corrugated iron was tiny and insufficient. She could not make enough money taking in laundry to support Marie and her baby. She chastised Marie, telling her that girls in the countryside respected customs. They would not have found themselves in Marie’s position.

  Marie cried all the while that she took care of her baby. Having a baby without a father was her first shame. But she had also made things difficult for her mother, who was now forced to pay, literally, for her romantic mistake. Her only option was to return to the factories to take the pressure off her mother. However, she had to leave her baby in the care of her mother during the days. Her mother watched over the baby while doing laundry for the neighbours.

  On her days off, Marie searched for Pierre who had left SONAPI and broken his old ties. Marie understood that she was looking for someone who did not want to be found. But she succeeded in finding him. He was living with his sister in Petionville. He was ashamed to see Marie and his daughter. While Marie wanted him to take responsibility for his daughter, her visits to Petionville showed her that it was a lost cause. He was living, like others, on the provisions sent from his peasant family in Jeremie. Marie saw that she was trying to get blood out of a rock. He could not care for the baby any more than she could. He was trying to set himself up in such a way that he could become a respectable head of a household. But he had very little to offer meanwhile.

  After a couple of years, Pierre found an orphanage willing to take the baby girl from Marie. That
was as close as he could get to taking responsibility. Marie agreed. Pierre advised Marie to leave the factories and to return to Jeremie to work as a merchant. The land in that department was fertile and she could build a better future. When she was established, Pierre would send for her and they could start over with a chance of living decently.

  Marie rejected Pierre’s suggestion. She asked him, “Are you crazy?! How could I return there when the other women know my history, how could I look them in the eyes? You think they’ll just accept me?”

  Pierre resumed, “Are you going to live for them or for yourself?”

  Marie insisted, “How do you think that they would see us, when they all assume that things are going well for us in the capital? When they see us return to Jeremie — starving — to eat their harvest, can’t you see what they’ll say? We will be great failures.… If you were in my place, would you feel comfortable, returning with nothing? Especially when everyone is waiting with anticipation for me to return with lots of money to spread around.”

  “Marie, they have to know, we are just straw and life is the wind. It sends us where it chooses. We have little power when we are caught in that wind. We may as well accept it.”

  Marie conceded, “I know, I know. But tell me, what is this about really? What is going on? Sending our child to an orphanage … advising me to go back to Jeremie … Are you trying just to free yourself from your ties? Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  “No, no, no. Marie. All I’m trying to do is to free you from that factory. It doesn’t allow you to even live independently of your poor mother. It’s a trap.”

  Marie replied, “You think so? Well, you have no plan. I do. After two years, I will have saved enough to begin my own commerce. You’ll see.”