Tuesday, February 20, 2018

Fon d'parikulur - Tranblemanntè 12 janvye 2010 nan peyi Ayiti– The day of the quake - III


Hills and valleys, towards the east of the capital – where dotted out the large mansions and the entourage of small buildings where lived the servants to the men who own them. There was a route between Haiti and Santa Domingo. It was a route that was paved only part of the way, though it had been planned to finish the entire way with asphalt. But you know how it is, corruption was more important than completion. Here there was life abundant, and only a few dots of home. Spread out from the main route were roads which were unpaved as dust was – unpaved because it was somehow natural for them to be unpaved. But between the dust and asphalt that man had made, between the stucco buildings and less graceful wooden shacks – there was green palms and yellow green stalks of grass.

It was there that Jules and her driver were caught by the quake. Here it was different from a developed area -the ground shook, and almost immediately. The wave that was the tremor grew stronger than anyone had imagined, except of course it had been imagined and warned by seismologists. But no one had really listen to them, because they warned when their was not any noticeable difference. Warning when there is no difference in warning when the difference strikes immediately, are 2 very different things. This is because, what exactly are you going to do? Many people cannot move from the island, or even move to the other side. And being stuck on the island means there is only one thing to do – build things stronger. However that requires money, money that they do not have for building – when there are so many pleasures now that can be had. All of this means that when the quake comes, people will die. But life span is short for most people anyway, so machwe won?

Road rumbled, trees shivered, and everything was whipped about from side to side. Then there was a loud crackle and the roaring slow down - and stopped. Immediately on Jules mind was the thing which all people not affected thought: when our the aftershocks coming? Because after a big earthquake there will be repeated tremors, and probably within the 1st day several will be large enough to do more damage. This is why, if they could, they sleep outdoors. The driver felt that out-of-doors was the only place to sleep after a massive quake. Little ones did not matter. They had them all the time. All. The. Time.

Big ones meant the focus of attention was the aftershock, because they would be coming. Not immediately, that not being the way – but soon. Every second meant the possibility had died down, until there was a moment when it would grow greater again. When every second meant a greater possibility. The mind of humans was attuned to the nature of Nature.

Chaos clears way to xaos – which like “gas” - comes from the same root in Ancient Greek, but means something completely different. Because chaos is random disorder, gas is the evaporation of liquids and solids – a new sort of order out of disorder - but xaos is disrandom order such as the set of Mandelbrot. After a few times through, there emerges seahorses scurrying along the defined path. And that is the same way with the earthquake - 1st there is a kaleidoscope of shaking which has no order – but if one survives that - and the bumping of bricks – a new kind of habitat has come in to being. The ones who 1st arrive at this – are the ones who intended to do evil before. This is because evil is so much easier to do when all things have to reassert their order. It will take time for police forces, and hospitals – and all of those other things that require thought. But to stab a knife into someone requires no foresight at all. The town blooms with terrible white smoke, filled with screaming – and already there are those who decide that certain people should have died, and they will make sure of that.

Shaking of everything that was still attached, and people running, there are those who plan to move quickly quietly and steadily towards their new goals. But this wakes an entirely different group of people, people who want to help – and realize that there are those that want to hurt. And the people that want to hurt have only a few minutes to affect their disinterested rage upon whoever is there target.
Jules was one of those who wished to help, and on the curb of the dusty dirt road – could see that there was a motion. Motion aforethought. And instinctively they knew that that would mean evil.

Instinctively, she moved her head in every direction, and their was only the driver visible. But invisible was someone else in the tall weeds. As if she had been driven to this place – and in a moment of wild madness, she realized that that was the truth: she had been dispatched here to be killed. Only before the earthquake there was a plan, that now needed to be thought a new. If she was a normal person, this would have been easier – she would get just the standing and then there would be a slit from a dagger. And then in the minutes time she would be dead – or at least on the way to that state. Unfortunately for everyone involved – she was totally aware. She was seeing in all directions, and calculating which direction would be the greatest danger.

Eyes stopped, her face stopped, and the body gradually moved into a gradual erectness – because in her eyes was the one person who she could not bear – Jon le Bon. As soon as her eyes fixed on him, his smooth voice became garrulous: “You know I was hoping that you would not see me, it would have been so much better to strike from behind.” there was no pity in his voice, though it was soft in a different way. He was dressed in short black pants and a short white shirt, and around his leg was a tire which he had rolled up beside him. In his shirt pocket was cigarettes, of a foreign nature. Oddly, she could see through the white that there was a camel logo. Her brain cast up a No. 5.

“Where you always going to kill me?” Though the answer was obvious.

“Yes of course – I just realized that I could have some fun first. You cannot tell me that it was not pleasurable for you. I just had to wait for your movements to be just so – that way you would open up to me – whether you wanted to or not.” The other thing that happened with his voice – was the talkative nature was underlined. Presumably because he had nothing left to fear. Somewhere back in the distance the driver was hurrying back down towards the town – he had delivered his victim, but did not want to see the result.

“How did you know that the driver would be the man who I used for gathering up?”

“Oh, that is easy – you used him the same way many times. I just needed to grease his palm, and he was ever so willing to oblige. He does not really like you you know, because of all sorts of reasons – but mainly because you are a woman – and he does not like taking orders from your sex. It is undignified, unrefined, and shameful.”

Most men thought this way – because all of the important work was done by men but documented by women. This annoyed almost all men to distraction. The writing of pens was anathema to their unequaled purpose: why did anything need to be documented before it was done? Actually they knew the reason: because mistakes were made, and such things as a quake made things visible. One thing that Haiti had not learned was the range of corruptness which could be allowed, they were still hit or miss on this concept.

“So you wanted some pleasure before getting to your work, is that it?” Rumbles in her eyes grew angry.

“There are things that need to be done, and people like you should leave them to professionals to do them.” He was blasé and this – it then became clear that emotion was not his strong point, except for himself.

“Why take supplies from the injured?” A note of plaintiveness tried to infect her voice – but it failed, because she knew why.

“Now look what you may give me do, I have to turn off my music.”A click on his jeans. “There is more to be made selling them to those who have more money. And it is money that talks, so even the foreigners say. Aside from that, the UN was cleaning up the mess it had made, itself. There was little enough good being done. All that would have to happen is that the UN needed to place more emphasis on Haiti – and what is bad about that?”

Wheedle tone quicked his voice, especially the long sentences which she knew was his way of convincing himself – and the person who he had met to take the contract, who smoked a different kind of cigarette, and in great profusion. There was an air of tobacco from Syria and Turkey – she knew this because she had dated for a long time smoker who had this exact scent.

Explaining, again to himself, because she was not going to be there for long. She could see a long lighter in his left hand- which was for cigarettes and cigars - and the motions that he made were to light it. She was to be necklaced. In her mind she felt the tire over her head – and the terrifying way that the fire from it would catch on her face, neck, and shoulders. Terrified she thought about running, but something gave that away and he spoke again:

“There is no point in running, I am strong enough to throw the tire anywhere that can get to.” This was true, she did not know how she had gotten out of the car, or moved such a long way. But that is the point about tremors – the gap from the moving is always longer than it seems.

While he was thinking that it was time to swing the tire – something happened. The cause was behind him – and she could only guess it is source. A 2nd tire came up from behind him, and wrapped its way around his neck – at the same time he lit the long lighter on his tire. There grew up a flash of light and heat, making an explosion around his head. At 1st she could not see anything but the eruption of gas about him. It made a crackling noise, and then a hiss as it caught fire on every part of his body.

Melting about him were the two tires, with steel treads finally lighting – which meant that they had more than just a butane stick. But the fire prevented her from seeing who brought this man down for a time. She finally rubbed her eyes, and saw the person who necklace Jon le Bon. It was a familiar figure – mamba. The rich ripe figure who was the least expected person to be there.

Then she realized, that as Jon le Bon had his spies, so to did the leader of the ritual. As the conflagration finally had down Jules saw mamba in a different aspect. She realized that there was a purpose to mamba searching – she realized that Jon le Bon had been by her home quite recently. And she guessed that anything that she had seen in his movements was trivial for mamba to divine.

Minou coin – catty-corner or kitty-corner – was the only way between mamba and the body, between the ditch. Barrabas grew in among the stalks of cane – it was a low growing bush, often planted to mark the boundary between to owners. Beyond that there was fallow land, though it might be in season later this year. After that were trees of various sorts, but all showed the signs of being transient – they had sprung up very recently. She bounced her way away from the tire despair body, and just a way from the poisoned blush. Then she was confronted with the woman who guided spirits.

Rotund was putting it mildly, though she had curves rather than being merely fat. A top her meaty frame were a pair of large breasts, and her face was plump, though she could see how many men liked that as well. Everything about her was in proportion – her lips, her cheeks, even her eyelashes dwarfed everything about Jules.

“How did you know that I was going to be here? How did you know any of this was going to happen?”

“Did not know anything except that the little man would be here, and that he would do anything necessary to finish the job. Though, it seemed quite likely that you would be here as well.”

“Was it just because he came? Or was it more than that?”

“Anyone could see that you were in the way. You wanted to be full – pregnant. If I recognized it, so had others. And his eyes were sharp in that way.”

“There are too many coincidences for this to be the only thing you know.”

“That you work for the government, but not on the paycheck – that is easy. That he is fraph is also easy. That you were the one he was looking for, required nothing other than noticing who was in a car. All of the things that you think are coincidences, are easy to spot once you know who the man is interested in. Then there was the hospital, everyone talking about what they think they know. Once you know that the man is going to be someplace, then it is not hard to have a driver follow him. And that will make a guess become real – n'est pas?” The last phrase was in impeccable French.

Shame came to Jules' face. She realized that if she was going to continue to ply the trade, she would have to recognize that every moment was full of meaning.

“So why have you done this?”

“Because my people suffer from cholera, and the man who you are helping is among the carriers of secrecy. I have seen him working the digging, and passing out money to some individuals – even before I knew his name, I knew he was part of the corrupt group of foreigners, though in this partikular case he will be helping my people.”

“Do you know who sent me? Or is that too obvious?” Pensando, pensando. Por lo que mas tu quieras.

It came out as a small laugh - Quizas. Quizas. Quizas. “Alix is your handler, and I have known him since he was small. There is nothing to this, if you know who is using strings to benefit. This is not a large country, the way the US is. It is a small country, with small elites, and thus everything remains small. Most of the countryside is involved in little schemes just to make money. Which is why places that collect cholera move in groups – because the same village will settle in the same neighborhood. Cholera in the city, means an outbreak in its corresponding village.This tells one who caused it.”
Estas perdiendo el tiempo. Her head hung down, the endless conspiracy. “It seems as if I have no power.”

“You have actual power, though you do not use it.” And was a hint of grandmotherly smile. The glisten of strings from far away, in a town gone and forgotten. As if played in a soundtrack, or perhaps – perhaps – perhaps – an echo.
“So, what do I want?”

“Almost all the men merely want what all men everywhere want, almost all of the women want children to raise. If you want something else then you have to decide to want it. Your friend over there,” She pointed at the body. “wanted to kill things, and he did until he himself was killed. I would say he had a good life, is short as it was.” The laughing started, and then abruptly halted. “What is it you truly want?”

Though she admitted that tobacco was off her list - and she therefore hated all smokers, because she had been one herself, Jules hesitated, because she knew what it was though she could not describe it. On her mind, but without words – until at last she rasped:

“These are the days of wine and cigarettes.”   

Monday, February 19, 2018

Fon d'parikulur - Tranblemanntè 12 janvye 2010 nan peyi Ayiti– The day of the quake - II


16:53, as the clocks registered it– what people were working had left or had begun to think about leaving. But then came the earthquake. In a land of many earthquakes, this was The. Many people called it “Goudu Goudu” - because of the shaking of the buildings – and whispered that it was someone in the US that wanted to destroy this land. Even as they tripped other thought dark things.

Seconds to react: and then the walls and floor come. A few seconds where light debris falls and then all is chaos. If you are in a building, you have roughly half a minute to get out – otherwise your chances will be determined by Bondye – and they will not be good. Everything about the earthquake goes to extremes, and very few people have experienced an earthquake quite like this. But in the capital they knew it was an earthquake, on like many places which would at first shrug there shoulders. They knew in their bones, in their belly, in the windpipe, that it was up from the earth. The place where demons live, the place where the supreme creator plays a vast joke on man. On one moment, it is man's chaotic but orderly world. In the next moment, it is pure destruction.

People running through the streets, most of them with black jeans and colorful T-shirts, without a name on them. The balls of play are, dropped. The children run scattered and mothers look for them. In the official buildings, all the guards run out. But it is in the poorest sections of town where the damage hits hardest – suddenly there are streams of water from every crack in a house. Suddenly you realize that the mice and rats left just a half a minute before – and they had a reason to do so. People were pushing into doors as quickly as possible, because they knew that very soon the doors would be piles of junk to hinder their progress. Only the people who have not experienced it – those foreigners who have not felt it – stand around and gaze at the buildings. Everyone else is a flurry of motion, intent on getting outside as quickly as possible.

Two minutes, the shock is over. Then the torturous process of finding a way out begins, often by throwing out everything that is in your way and sticking a hand out and crying for some form of help. That is if there is anyone who can help, but often there are only people running away or who are in need of help themselves.

Help is the recovery refrain. M'aidez. M'aidez. Which is why Mayday is the word for help over the radio.

Cadence of a language, whether it is called a dialect, a kreyol, or a tongue that defines the way it is spoken. Whether it is understandable or not to anyone outside – Cockney, Pasisian, or the differences between Mandarin and the dialect of Beijing. Each one has their indefinable sense of being spoken well. But in the midst of pain, the cadence descends to a guttural drawl – and eventually almost all languages become the same – with only variance in the ways that they interact in the voice. So it was with an earthquake – all of the languages condensed into a wale of pain. Pain that has a first-person, 2nd person, and 3rd plural. I am in pain, you are in pain, the world is in pain.

Groping out the sides of buildings comes white for the T-shirts, and black for the skin. With tiny beads of white for the eyes. Clawing. Groping, until they fade out to whispers. And then silence. Never to be heard from that person again.

Entire town as capital was correct in a sacrosanct correction – is everyone realized that man was not always in charge here. There was still nature to be reckoned with. And nature was angry, or so it appeared to the inhabitants. A Rumble of white cast over Port-au-Prince, enveloping everything – from government buildings to blocks where the poor lived. From industry, shipping, and the few shops which made actual things. It was white because everything was made of concrete and plaster, and most things of any size were white before paint was mixed in. and the change hung over everything after the quaking was done.

How many died on that day? If it was an accident, one injury can be managed, and survived. 10 injuries needed to be triaged. But 300,000 just had to be aghast, with burial creeping into the consciousness - a source of employment which was not to be discussed – merely done. The story of a few people, is given over to an epic, an epic of mass destruction. No movie captures the scope – because in reality nature has its own pause and rise – which is different from the pause and rise of a person, or different from a group of people. Nature does not have feelings.

It was gone, and the stories that were being told started again. But started with an ellipse...

The signal mark of destruction - buildings, cars, cats, and people. Especially people. Important people – such as the Archbishop of Port-au-Princes. And political figures such as the leader of the opposition. There were many who would be known only to those who survived. Some would not be remembered by anyone because entire families had perished from the earthquake, or the aftermath. Fortunately there was no power in much of the afflicted areas – there was no fire that took hold.

That which happened before, no longer picked up – it was a different place entirely, with screams and moans, sigh of relief.

In a room, on a floor, in a building, which the doctor worked in, there was commotion, and then devotion, both to Mon Dieu, and other darker powers. The doors became exhilaratedly crammed - as every person became a body which had only one instinct - to survive, to move out of a room - and on to the street. But this required the rush of people into the corridors. They were banging into both the walls and each other, crying out for air, crying for Manman nou – Either to rescue, or 2 and the suffering which had torn the brink of day from brink of day
But in the room, there were 2 people talking, when the shaking of the earth started. Each of them knew that the 1st thing to do was to look around and make sure that nothing was quite fall upon them. There was terror on their faces – bien sur - but in each of their minds was a kind of calm that came from an inner reserve - which came from a life which does that it may end in a will of the wisp. What the doctor noticed, was that the UN diplomat had the vestiges of calm beginning to come over his face. That meant that the UN diplomat had been in these situations before - and was struggling to take control of his mind, his brain, is body. While every one else - or nearly so - was panicking, wailing, and running - the UN diplomat was not doing any of those things. He did not yet have control, but it was coming.

The doctor looked inside himself, and the same process - more slowly - was taking place. The mind acts rationally with a such people - diplomat and doctor - and in that shorts space of time when the earthquake bloomed into full flower - a realization came. Each new the other one was different from almost all of the other people. Outside, in the corridor, there were people trying to rush out - to get to safety, to get somewhere anywhere everywhere nowhere. Inside the new that such an old building had survived catastrophes before, and would probably do so again. In any event, rushing to be part of the throng would not help anyone.

So while plaster fell from the ceiling, and file cabinets were flown to the floor - the 2 men were relatively unheard - a large chunk of plaster had hit the UN diplomat, but it left only a scratch.

Circumstances were such, that the only thing they really wish to talk about could not be set. Cholera was known about, from before the beginning. Eventually someone would contract it and spread it over all of the developments - until a blood test found that out. This could not be talked about, because the UN diplomat would not answer precisely. They were admitted into a secret society, whose membership could not say what was the only thing that kept them in business.

Oh how he wished, like a player in Sophocles, to stretch forth upon the wide stage, and deliver a grand soliloquy. But the problem was, that he knew he was not the player who would say this. Instead his mind turn to Jules - because if she were alive, she would be the one to tell individuals, in her way.

“1st we must help the victims, and then find our way to Jules.”

Nod, was all that came from the diplomat. There was the unsettled calling in the Doctor voice – which held a deep whisper, like the echoes of memory of union, which touched – as surely as the must be – by the strains of forgotten hands and distant chords. In his heart Dr Kenold knew the she was not for him, even though he wanted her.

Why, you might ask? Because their minds did not touch, and he knew his body did not appeal.

Friday, February 16, 2018

Fon d'parikulur - Tranblemanntè 12 janvye 2010 nan peyi Ayiti– The day of the quake - I


'The magnitude 7.0 Mw earthquake occurred inland, on 12 January 2010 at 16:53 (UTC-05:00), approximately 25 km (16 mi) WSW from Port-au-Prince at a depth of 13 km (8.1 mi)[7] on blind thrust faults associated with the Enriquillo-Plantain Garden fault system.[27] There is no evidence of surface rupture and based on seismological, geological and ground deformation data it is thought that the earthquake did not involve significant lateral slip on the main Enriquillo fault.[28] Strong shaking associated with intensity IX on the Modified Mercalli scale (MM) was recorded in Port-au-Prince and its suburbs. It was also felt in several surrounding countries and regions, including Cuba (MM III in Guantánamo), Jamaica (MM II in Kingston), Venezuela (MM II in Caracas), Puerto Rico (MM II–III in San Juan), and the bordering Dominican Republic (MM III in Santo Domingo).[1][29] According to estimates from the United States Geological Survey, approximately 3.5 million people lived in the area that experienced shaking intensity of MM VII to X,[1] a range that can cause moderate to very heavy damage even to earthquake-resistant structures. Shaking damage was more severe than for other quakes of similar magnitude due to the shallow depth of the quake.[30][31]'

'The quake occurred in the vicinity of the northern boundary where the Caribbean tectonic plate shifts eastwards by about 20 mm (0.79 in) per year in relation to the North American plate. The strike-slip fault system in the region has two branches in Haiti, the Septentrional-Oriente fault in the north and the Enriquillo-Plantain Garden fault in the south; both its location and focal mechanism suggested that the January 2010 quake was caused by a rupture of the Enriquillo-Plantain Garden fault, which had been locked for 250 years, gathering stress.[32] However, a study published in May 2010 suggested that the rupture process may have involved slip on multiple blind thrust faults with only minor, deep, lateral slip along or near the main Enriquillo–Plantain Garden fault zone, suggesting that the event only partially relieved centuries of accumulated left-lateral strain on a small part of the plate-boundary system.[28] The rupture was roughly 65 km (40 mi) long with mean slip of 1.8 metres (5 ft 11 in).[33] Preliminary analysis of the slip distribution found amplitudes of up to about 4 m (13 ft) using ground motion records from all over the world.[34][35]'

'A 2007 earthquake hazard study by C. DeMets and M. Wiggins-Grandison noted that the Enriquillo-Plantain Garden fault zone could be at the end of its seismic cycle and concluded that a worst-case forecast would involve a 7.2 Mw earthquake, similar in size to the 1692 Jamaica earthquake.[36] Paul Mann and a group including the 2006 study team presented a hazard assessment of the Enriquillo-Plantain Garden fault system to the 18th Caribbean Geologic Conference in March 2008, noting the large strain; the team recommended "high priority" historical geologic rupture studies, as the fault was fully locked and had recorded few earthquakes in the preceding 40 years.[37] An article published in Haiti's Le Matin newspaper in September 2008 cited comments by geologist Patrick Charles to the effect that there was a high risk of major seismic activity in Port-au-Prince.[38]'

- Wikipedia, written by many hands on to you.

Quand son boulot s'achève. Un accordéoniste. Awakening in the end of the night, where the stars were going out one by one. She was alone, and the bed was called – it was obvious he left in the intervening hours. She was not sure whether she was grateful or grateful – because she was glad to have seen him go. Somehow she knew she was impregnated with his baby, and the thought occurred whether to terminate the pregnancy – whether by medical or religious means. Her stomach roiled at the aborting this precious gift from God, though she would never say who the father was in its presence. That would be a secret known only to mon dieu. Et le java.

Chercher un peu de rêve. Baby, baby, baby – she had never thought about having a child before, she hoped it had a moon shaped face – because that was something precious and come to the earth from deep in the sky. She did not care who the child was in its conception; almost any father would do. Because he – whoever he was – would be gone as soon as his pleasure was over, but she being the mother would remain. And that suited her fine – just she and the baby. Which is why in her mind she kept whispering for it to be with her. She wanted it, and this after having not wanted it at all.

La fille de joie est belle. Coming of a baby would bring bliss to her life, and to her mother's life. Her father had died some years before – and did not care for babies, children, or cats. Though he was Partikular to dogs, but only of a given size – too small and they were like children or cats, too large and there were control issues that he did not want. The exact size, when she thought about it, was a spaniel.
Elle a une clientèle. Window transmitted light: she could see the moon – rising up in all of her splendor, and whispering secrets to all who would listen. The secret that she heard from the moon, was that her girlhood had died while she slept. And it was now womanhood that she woke to. Her breath had almost stopped, and she listened for her Mama, but did not hear the whispering rasp. She wondered if she had been killed by Jon le Bon – but decided that was not his style, to murder the mother after having slept with the daughter. But she wondered what it would take to make him murderous. Because in her heart she knew that there was something which would. The thought was dark, and her eyes lit less light in – and the pattern of the stars grew dim. It was somewhat too bad that she did not know the constellations – though once she had a man who taught her. However that was a distant haze, when the time was for marijuana and beer, not wine and cigarettes.

Chercher un peu de rêve. After all there was a difference in the intoxicants that one imbibed. And with youth came different strengths, and the price was also small. But now she had more exquisite tastes, and she would have to wrangle from the doctor a trip to one expensive place or another. He had ways, and he liked to show them off.

Son tonnerre éclatant. Slowly the moon disappeared behind the house across the way, and she knew that in about an hour that the sunlight, glorious sunlight, would begin to creep along the horizon. Then it would be morning in Port-au-Prince – and a new day would begin. For those who actually worked, such as they were, it was a tough day. This was her. Butt of those who did not work it was just another day in January. Though the calendar was meant for more northern climes, and it did not register the same way in Haiti. She knew that she had bought this, at least once a day.

Mais le ciel de paris. Sliding across the grass paper sheet – mother was Partikular about this, however much it cost – she looked down to the wooden floor – this time it was her father which was Partikular about this – she could just see the knots that wrinkled the surface. But what was actually on her mind was becoming day's events. While in developed countries – so she heard it said – one could do things in an office with a phone, here you had to talk to people face-to-face. Talk to people and assure them that this would not be a pattern – that most supplies would have a cut for “the handling” built-in for interested parties, this time they had to let things pass, and pass without taking anything. This would take several days, with each one being assured. This is where her line of work was most important, because she would be the one who would, essentially, pet the clients. And then in a trick of the eye, a face which she knew and would have to talk to transformed into a knot which resembled, vaguely, the shape of the man's head. Even though she had seen this happen in many circumstances, it still was disconcerting. She realized that dawn was approaching fast – because everything in the room began to feel lighter and brighter. Over reach for the heavens, she thought, and bring luck to us in our cause. It was not really an adventure, because nothing would be out of the ordinary or new. But it was a cause, because certain people would not have cholera inflicted on them. And what is more, they would not even know. Da da de da.

Près de Notre-Dame parfois couve un drame oui mais à Paname. Turning away from the floor she again studied the outside, where there were birds in a chorus beginning to chirp and rumble in their variety. She recognized a pierce from a Partikular species, but she had forgotten which one it was. But this pierce meant something to her, and she identified with it. She identified it because it seemed alone and searching for a partner too much its own. It was a crying, a dedicated warble, for the bird who - she imagined – it was meant for. Because it is piercing stopped, and she hoped that it had found its mate. Hoping that this would be her fate as well.

Coule un fleuve joyeux. Bathroom called, and demanded to be answered. Shoes on to feet, and feet on the floor. It was a ritual, from when she was small and her mama gathered her out of bed and wrapped her into her intoxicating night close. Her mother would talk about all of the things that they were going to do – she did not realize that it was the last summer before she went to school. But then sometime later, she realized that her mama did. This too, was a ritual.

Elle est née d'aujourd'hui. Easing down on the floor, through the slippers – she crept her way out of her room, and down the hallway. Their was an ornate floral wallpaper, which had been there since before she lived here, and probably before the people who owned this house – at least 40 years. There were chips and runs in it, and it had an old feel to it. No one knew what caused someone to obtain such paper once a long time ago when it was installed.

Cet air qui m’obsède jour et nuit. First - she had to check something: though she knew what the logical answer was – the emotional vision of her mama murdered still clung to the visual part of her memory. Being rid of it, meant that she had to go in to mama's bedroom, and peer over mama's form – just to make sure that she was still awake. This only takes a few minutes – and when it was done a distinct sign escaped her lips. It surprised her that such intensity was made for what was obviously a simple check of a trivial thing. She knew that her mother was not murdered, but her mind stuck in the mode of the convinced on some level. She went into the bathroom and showered, which was actually a luxury.

This being a country where water was precious, clean water more precious, and hot cleaned water was almost unheard of. Those people did not care about what the water out of a showerhead contained.

Il arrive en courant derrière moi. Returning to her room, she got out a business dress – which was green, a dark green that she favored – and tried on many of the accouterments until she was thoroughly presentable. A men would not understand the enormous detail that she went through – but almost any woman would. Thus it took 30 minutes to get this ensemble perfect.

Padam... Padam... Pandam...Worth every minute of it – because she felt clean. But if you think about it very carefully, she rose with makeup still on her face – because cold cream was not in their budget – then she showered to get it and a denuded state – only to put on makeup which put a sheen on her face. And so the cycle was repeated again – soot to clean to soot. A never ending process, which she would demand until the day she died. There was something that commanded her to do this, even down to her genes. A lot typed version of evolution which she could have thought of if her mind really thought the way that a nurse could actually think.

But of course her mind never troubled her learning - if she could help it.

Mes musician, there were also many things she did not do: such as pack a lunch. For every bit that she did not do, money would supply much of the answers if it came down to that. Of course most people on the island would not have money, that was the division between the poor and what should be called something different then the middle class – because of course most people were not in the middle class. It was a pyramid that was distorted, back to the 1600s, when people who had money were actually quite a few, and lived in a few cities which one could pick out. This was the way it was in Paris then, and in Haiti, now.

Arretez! Arretez le Java! Marching through the day, such questions were herded to the back of her head; the main question now was who was going to drive her to the various locations that she needed to visit, and the people that she needed to talk to. Of course it could not be the same driver; 1st of all because he was too leery. This was a problem when she had to talk to men who had to be reminded that nothing was to be taken from a certain set of deliveries. This was because they would find ways of cashiering the driver; it was a male thing.

Perfect person came into her head: for one he was old, not too old mind to put old enough to put virility out of the picture. He was also somewhat round, though not quite fat. He had a slight stoop, and was certainly less than average. He talked about things he heard on his radio, which received far more stations then most people listen to. He could hear Ayisyen radio from a number of cities well outside of Haiti, where the diaspora had carried people to other shores. Of course many of these were unlicensed – that is to say pirated – but who in Haiti was concerned about that? His amiable tone of voice meant that he was unthreatening, and one would guess unhinged because he jumped from topic to topic. Belle c'est belle. She remembered hearing the female announcer a long time ago, and for a while that was one of her objectives, to be like Mimose. However Poppa put an end to that.

Moving to streets over, to her place where taxis congregated in the weekdays, she knocked on the car door. It was old, American, and large. Or large enough that it took up a great deal of space as it moved through the roadway. You knew it was old because it had a light turquoise finish with chrome where chrome should be, and not where it was not. There was pride in the car, and clearly the man who owned it was also the man who drove it. She did not know how fast it went, but she could guess that “not very” was close to the mark. It took two wraps before he looked up – he had his head in the glove kompartment, stripping wires.

La voix: the voice was mellow and slightly soft: “Good day, my little thin girl. How are you doing? This is more than Sifre. You never say hello for the sake of it.”

“That hurts, I can occasionally say good day.” There were wisps of fake tears in her eyes, not for the truth of it; but that she allowed the truth of it to get out. From now on she would have to say things just to have the sound echo out of her lips.

Gradually, they fell into konversation, rather meaningless one, at least to her – she had not asked the key question as to whether he would drive her to various places. But she knew that was on the tip of her tongue, and he realized it. He occasionally looked down, back to stripping the wire. It was that that point that he was waiting for her to ask, because the answer was “yes” - or rather “ yes but” because he had something he wanted in return. And she knew it was not sex, so whatever it was could be arranged.

“So it does not seem like you have much to do, and you are not going to drive over to the collection of taxis.”

“This be true.” - in his unvarnished way of talking. He was de bas étage – as the French said it. The rural class held land – or fell into ruin, as he had done.

“Then could you drive me to various appointments that I have? Of course I would pay you – and more than some people would.”

“I know what you will pay me, you are always fair in that way. But I want something else rather than money.” “Yes, but” was obvious to all. At least there was no mistaking it.

“What is it?” Internally, her teeth ground at the unornamented way of talking, but that is the way that he talked and their was nothing she could do about it.

“Well, there is this gas station owner, and he made a bet with me.” The undulate syllables tripped early on his tongue, because it was obvious he won the bet.

“Say no more, I do not really want to know what you that on. I just want to know what do you want from me?” Cutting him off before he told her the details of the bet.

“After I fill up my voiture, I need to have someone call back to a friend of mine saying that I have petrol. And I do not have a phone.” A bit sheepish about this.

“Sure, I can do that for you.” she also imagined that having a friend would be beneficial to the man paying off the bet.

“Thank you I knew it would be the trouble for you.”

“What are friends for?”

“There is one last detail.”Slipped that in, quietly. Here was the real problem, which meant that it was not her phone – it was that her phone would not be traced by any of his friends to him.

“It is part way up the mountains, and out of Port-au-Prince. He owns other things in the town, but the gas comes in from the other part of the island.” Probably illegally to.

“That will be the last thing, is it not?”

“Yes, my friend, yes.” In Ayisyen kreyol, the “yes” was a great deal like the Parisian French. It had the sound of a guttural kind of “W” - and he played that up. The car door opened up, with an acrid scent that could only come from cigarettes, she recognized them of course – they were the scent of the mascot of French cigarettes. So off they went to make her appointments. It would take almost the entire day, but labor – even labor with a car – was cheap. Even if one had to live with the constant odor, even if he did not use them while she was in the car.

Cholera, however, was the important thing her mind – the passion killer born in the East lands of India – it had spread all over the world when the European nations had discovered colonization, realization, and the trade which came from them. The 1st comes from the British East India Company – sending workers in 2 the remote Ganges River, to take a forest and clear it for the production of that valuable commodity – rice. Rice of the type which is long grained, as the way it was done in India. Amidst the many rivers which created kilometers of deltas, 1 part was just beyond the Delta. It ran for miles, where the rivers came in and the sea came up – resulting in a mire of neither land nor sea. Instead it wobbled between both of these states – leading to land floating across water.

In this concoction a bacteria form its own lifespan – because in the brackish in between fresh and salt water weighted a special disease, which infected people who drank the water. Once having drunk the water, their intestines would be seized by a toxin so vicious that the body will do anything to get rid of it. It congeals in the intestine, and the fight causes the blood to turn black in the capillaries. Gradually the person wastes away – and that meant that the politicians needed to step in to create an entire infrastructure based on having clean water. In the 19th century, “ closing the taps” meant that a locus of cholera had been traced back to a water station – and the only way to get rid of it was to close the water station. It was the only way, or the dead would pile up until it was.

The developed world, it is controlled – even the with of cholera will spark the echelons of waste to begin closing down its source. But in lands such as Haiti, not enough communication occurs until the blight is firmly rooted – and no one knows which water station is responsible, because it has spread to many others. What he is more deadly, is that the organizations and people who are supposed to be alert, often are the ones who spread the problem. Instead of watching, the hide signs of cholera. So the bacterial killer becomes a human killer. A human killer in disguise.

Cholera cots, a bed with a whole in the middle for catching diarrhea, and a tin for throwing up vomit – are really the signs that the entire world would rather not talk about the nature of cholera, about how it kills 1st the infants and survivors, before turning its gaze to more healthy stock. Within each caller cholera cot there is a fresh example of the ashen wastrel, to be replaced by another after some time. It is not that there is not really, if one can get fluids and electrolytes in time – the patient will survive. The problem is that they would rather go to a church, or to voodoo – where they will hear everything but the truth. They will hear their that they should pray or sacrifice a chicken – in place there soul in the hands of God. Because God will protect one were as a cholera center drives people away until the last possible moment. Water, water, everywhere, and ever mouthful hides a secret. She realized she had drunk some water at the voodoo ritual – perhaps she was a carrier.

Then it is too late. And when can see the results from the white faces of those who are gripped in a spasm that drains out the organs and tissues from both ends - because cholera lives in the native bacteria, and thrives in sewage water. This sewage water is that drunk, until it reaches the point where even a small amount will infect. This is the moment of fecal-oral spread. It has happened here in Haiti - this is what she was fighting against: a living dead populating the ghettos. And remember, all of Haiti is a ghetto for the entire New World – a public squalor. El amore en los tiempos del cólera – willhere people scatter an outbreak – only to infect more places with more death. Till at last, the bodies cannot be disguised from their whiteness. This is one reason why white is the color of death in such lands.

Thursday, February 15, 2018

Fon d'parikulur 11 janvye 2010 - II


Sweet, sweet time, of walking home. Jules remembered every single time she did it; though she did not remember everything which happened there. But there was a magic in the cooling evening and summer light which bewildered her. Sometimes she was alone, and sometimes she would be dreaming of her father, a boyfriend that she was missing, or just some passing fragment of the day. Each time it was totally different. And yet it was the same equipoise in her soul. And it was her sole that beckoned her this time. The mooding of the day, that was the same; at least to her it was. It was as if it was a long lost sigh, that felt as if it started in the throat, but then came pouring out through the pores.

On the street she saw no barrels or baskets on the heads of women, though they did move down this street. But there was always something respectful about the way in which people had reverence, as if this was on holy ground. And it was in a manner of speaking – because being near the palace of the president was both a point of pride, and a remembrance of what had come before. Because for 2 generations, a man called Duvalier drilled the country to his whim – Bebe Dok was the son of Papa. And one would be hard pressed to decide which was more vicious. The old man would argue this when all of the other children had gone to bed; when did not know which stories were true, which ones are false, and which ones were the result of state terrorism. These were the days of the tom-tom macout – with the only positive thing that could be said was that he died young – 63, when other men would survive until much later. But then he was not interested in survival, but in power for as long as he had it. True he was given a ghost of a chance, but he was as mean spirited as his father was, and the tobacco monopoly gave him almost unlimited power on the tiny island, and it expanded beyond tobacco. No books were ever taken into account – and the loyalist police and military could do what they would like. Even Ronald Reagan could not stand him.

Prolonging her life; a forward which was written on her parents faces – they turned away rather than answering questions about what they did. From this she knew that they were active participants in the looting of the country. A few amassed huge fortunes while the rest of the tiny half of an island starved or leered on as the women were beaten. It said a great deal that her mother was never beaten.
But if you want to know why many in the dream of Paris, it is not the language but the lifestyle of Duvalier. He still has many supporters.

She went down up to her house and slowly slipped into the door, where she was surprised to see the man called himself Jon le Bon. It was a half dance and half fight – she able struggled against him and yielded her body to him at the same time. She was both repelled and enticed, just as it had been the last time that they met.

“Why are you here? And where is my mother?”

“I am here because I meant to be here, and your mother realized she could not keep me out. In fact she did not even try.”

“So she probably left running, is what you are saying.” she used her arms to extract herself, but only partially. His arms gripped into her elbows, securing a grip that she could not break.

“Are you still fighting against me, when we have endless days to speak of love.” the expression sounded to her like it was prepared, and she hoped that this would enfold her into escaping. But try as she might, she looked into his eyes – and melted into a dreamy reverence. On one side she thought it was disgusting, on the other side she felt her skin on her back yelp with delight. How does this happen? She was sure that there was some biochemical reaction, or some mystical movement that attracted opposites.But whatever it was, she needed to escape – and her tone was set to the harshest measure that she could muster.

Love was not in the equation: “Why do you want me? And how long do I have before you tire of my face, because we know that you are not put on this earth for marriage.”

“And how do you know that I was not put on the world for marriage?” there was a grin on Jon le Bon's face – even wider than a cats.

“Would you marry me?”

“But that is a specific question, them I put on the globe for you. Not a generic question about me.”

“All right then, suppose I would ask about me? What would you say?”

“I would say I do not know you well enough.”

“Well enough to sleep with me, though.”

“That is just for two people who happen to get along.”

But she thought, that is for 2 people who do not get along, but one to be close to one another.

“All right let us say that we get along, how long would it be until you would think about marrying me?” it seemed more of a statement then it ought to be.

“It is hard to say – so why do not we get close and things will work out – of that I can promise you.”
Realizing that he had plenty of deferments to the question, so that eventually she would open her nest and allow him to roost. And then there was the prickly feeling on her legs as he rubbed one but up her back. The only question she really wanted to know, was, how did he know by looking at her. Once the question was phrased in this parikulurli manner – it was fairly obvious. He may not have known the exact medical words, but he knew the clear signs that she was ovulating. And had a knack for exploiting this to its full.

Body cannot care, but mind knew that this would be the last time that the two of them would sleep together, this she promised on Bondye, God of gods. She problems this even though it made her lips move, and she went to sleep with this on her tongue: no more should he gain entrance just by knowing the signs.

Wednesday, February 14, 2018

Fon d'parikulur 11 janvye 2010 - I

11 janvye 2010


Words were so different than, some paragraphs would open gently – but a few would explode in to consciousness.

“Now he told me that there was digging that reached the coast at this point here.” Dr. Kenold pointed to a region north of the city.

For Jules part she added in: “In hospital north of the city – number 20 – there was an annex, but all of the people in the Annex and different illnesses – but I never saw anyone moved to the main building. Which is very odd, because if it were an annex – you would think that more people would be going in and out of the main building. But only doctors and nurses went in and out – no patients did.”

“What does that mean? Though I have a suspicion, spell it out for me.” A concerned look crossed his face.

Large number of people were, excuse the expression, warehoused, at once. And they were from the same infection. It is as if they had taken everyone around them that were injured all at once. Which is means that there was a large infection, and they hurried everyone in that had been involved. Normally even infections of a Partikular sort happened over and over again. As you know much of Haiti is not very clean. And what is more, I saw a great deal of UN trucks, for more than would have otherwise seen.”

“Are you suggesting that the UN knew.”

“Under normal circumstances that would be dismissed from the brain. But the UN sent someone in, when normally there normal people could do what needed to be done.”

“Even sending it someone like yourself to grease the wheels?”

“My involvement is rather typical. What is not typical is that a UN should need my assistance – though many other foreigners might. MSF has me running around – to stem the flow of medications to – show we say non-medicated parts.”

“You mean gangs.”

“Anyone who is local, including domestic corporations. You never know when might need some medication. I am told by my foreign doctors that Haiti is one of the worst countries for infection – especially one that is on an island.”

There was going to be more konversation but then the UN diplomat came in to Dr. Kenold's office, it was 9 o'clock in the morning. Precisely, 9 o'clock. Only Swiss and German were ahead of this.
Hair, the hair was completely immaculate. It is not fair thought Jules a woman would have to spend at least an hour to do that, he probably spends a few minutes and then shakes it out and then he is done.
Making it more obvious that he was awake for some time, the UN director spoke, in a way which was different from the last time: “ hopefully I am not interrupting anything. But, we should get going on my project, because the sooner that the directors can extract me from Haiti, the better.”

Coming around the desk, Dr. Kenold had a look of determination – as if the presence was not going to distract him from what he had learned over the weekend. His shoes were steady, and the people beneath could hear him tromping – which was a bad sign, because it meant he was not amused. It might be guest by the reader that Dr. Kenold had a reputation which preceded himself among the other public servants. It was not a bad reputation – exactly, but it was a determination to do his job. This was not the case with most public servants.

“You will have to answer some questions that came up on a review of your situation. Can we get started?” there was a change of voice, no longer was it weak, and all traces of effeminacy were gone. This came as a shock to the UN diplomat, because he expected that he was being given over to a person who would, effectively, rubber stamp things. He was not sure that he liked this new power from the Ayisyen public servant.

Voice did not show this, and his manner showed it only in little ways: “What are your questions?” He did not have the forcefulness to aid anything – which he normally would. It was the gaps that his trepidations showed. But only people who knew him – of which there were none present – or who could have guessed – which was the case with Jules. Her face drilled in on his white bearded face, and seemed as if it burned. Because at that moment, he looked at Jules and Dr. Kenold alternately, each one of them having a different face, but a piece which was accusing.

Interrogation went on for at least an hour, and with each dénouement – the willpower was cracking. Laboissonnniere was not use to this, and several times but that he should just walk out, and take his case back to Alix, complaining how the people he had selected were no good for him. But instead he stayed answering questions, which amounted to an admission that the UN knew something was wrong.

The admission hit: the UN knew it was cholera – and they had introduced it. It was a metaphysical bomb – the UN would never admit this publicly.

Chasm, a deep dark chasm, moaning under their feet – as if it were aqueous and filled with fish from the sea – that each one of them felt in a similar way. Each one of them felt like a child in a darkened place, where they would hide from their parents, and cried for some transgression that they had committed. Looking at their faces showed that they reacted differently to there emotional distress – and that was the difference. The white haired man was slumped over the railing, drenched in sweat, and loose in his arms and limbs. The doctor of architecture instead was hunched up almost to the point of outstretched precision – he was on the balls of his feet – and that transmitted all the way up to a quiet rage upon his face. However – both were in some kind of dejected ecstatic frenzy of rage – and were in some personal state of mind, almost with no notion of anyone else.

But stretched out and comfortable was Jules – it was clear that she had a different vision of confinement, instead of some form of terror that she imposed on herself – there was a kind of looseness and calm on her face. She could see to people, each one of them drained and without really seeing the other. She watched back and forth, and decided what was the next move that she could make – because neither of the other two could even utter a word.

“So what are we going to do? The secret is not out, because only to members of the government – and I count myself informally as one – really know, and we do not have to tell our superiors. On the other hand, we must do something for the people who are stricken with the disease, and make preparations for removing the source. We have to do something once, not stand around and embarrass ourselves by how we got ourselves into this – after all none of us actually did the deed, and the people who were stricken consumed the water without testing it, or even knowing how to test it.”

There was a resolute nature to her – call it what it is – speech verging on diatribe. While she did this both of the men listened and changed their stance to one of intent listening. The two men were hanging on every word, and Jules was there leader.

In the daze, dim finding of things remembered - à la recherche du temps perdu , the white haired man remembered that once he would be telling people to look forward, and to be mindful of what could be done – rather than wallowing in the past. It should be he who made the speech, in that mind's eye of him being the center of attention. He wondered if he was getting too old – because his dossier had many times where he encapsulated the calm before the center of the storm.

Fractalwise the clock, as if the seconds did not move in a Partikular pattern – but instead each one set its own course through the now and into then. Both of the men bought that Jules would be the next to speak, and were intently listening for her voice to start. At long last she did:

“We must have a plan, that will deliver the supplies to the right people – and not let anyone else know that it has happened at all.”

Hesitation consumed the room – but it was that visitation of a group, not an individual - but at last the UN diplomat said: “On my part the problem is that the rest of the staff should not be notified, even alone them to suspect that domestic organizations had been known would be quite forbidden by the secret rules that are in place. Because, the higher representatives sent people who could be trusted with immense secrets.”

It was then that the doctor looked at the UN diplomat, and studied his face more intently than before – and last he saw the real profession. The UN diplomat was a spy, taking on the more difficult assignments – ones that very few would recognize. He wondered why the white haired man cried, because this was not the most difficult operation that he had performed. He had heard of such dealings with foreign governments and foreign NGOs, but had never participate in them. He had worked with Palais National and with others. But there was a difference between working with foreigners rather than dealing with domestics. He listened more to Jules: “That should be obvious to all of us, but thank you for reminding the delicacy of the situation with the United Nations. We also have to not mention this with Alix, because he will have guessed many things, but confirming them is out of the question.”

“What exactly does Alix do? His roll seems to be vague, in the extreme.” The doctor was the one who questioned.

“He actually has a nominal job, but it pays enough to park once car outside; thus he spends his majority of time working out which people need help, and which people who can help need a bit of money. This job is of course informal but vital. He also warns the informal about the formal directives which are coming down – especial on the topic of religion. The in a fine line to be tread there – Occasionally the Christian churches dislike the identification of Saints with the immovable powers. Especially the Roman catholic.” than, as if it was habit, the UN diplomat coughed – as if he was smoking when no one was looking.

UN diplomat asked: “ I would say not! So how do we divide the responsibilities, without letting any of the directors, managers, and Partikulars of no name become involved?” he noticed that Jules had something to say on his expression, but did not utter it.

“It is obvious that the doctor should file notices on the digging, while it is not his area of expertise, it is close enough so that anyone looking at it would see just ordinary graft. Nothing to ask questions of, except for someone who needed a bribe.”

“And what will you do, Jules?” the UN diplomat want to be sure that Jules was involved.
“It is obvious that a variety of people need to look the other way. How much do you actually need for distribution, and how much can be given away.”

“Well all would be for distribution, but one suspects that is not going to be the case.”

“In Haiti, some must be reserved for bribes, whatever their name is in the ledger. And I am sure you know this.”

“We can move 20% of what is available for handling fees.” Obviously this was the definition of the word “ bribe” in this Partikular context.

The doctor spoke: “Where do we need the cholera emergencies, because that will have to be also taken in to account, and forms need to be written and submitted.” Then the doctor spun around and went to look out the window, spreading the drapes to look at the myriad of buildings – from homes to businesses, to businesses that looked like homes but had too much construction near them. The buildings that were homes washed in pastels against the dark green palms. Then he returned to his desk and grabbed a large map of Port-au-Prince.

“Where else is there cholera, maps might have to be procured of the Partikular areas. Especially of the men who take bribes in the area.”

The UN diplomat was surprised: “You keep such records?”

“While it is labeled as such, yes we keep records on who we have to do business with. The moment of unity under Aristides is over, and now there are dozens of factions competing even for senators, let alone for the Chamber of Deputies. We would not get anything done – and we get little enough – without keeping tabs of who controls the various roads, even blocks, of territory.”

And so the 3 of them managed to find resolution on what should the done. Jules new that she would have to contact someone to do this, and she knew which one she would select.

Jon le Bon. Because she felt certain that he was capable of finding who really controlled, and would “persuade” them to look the other way.

Normally they would break for 2 hours, because the heat of the day commanded that they rest. But not today.If they were a myriad of sweat before, they were coded with it now. They allowed the fan from the ceiling to drive them off for an hour. The fan ran faster and slower, but none cared. It was at least something of a breeze.

Then the UN diplomat left, and then Jules left. It was just before 18:00.

Tuesday, February 13, 2018

Fon d'parikulur 10 janvye 2010 - IV


In another part of Port-au-Prince, Dr. Kenold was busy doing things he needed to do. The maps were piled around him on the desk – because he was one of the few who came in to the office on the weekend. There were other people at work, but mainly foreigners and people who worked with foreigners. There was one other category of people who would be on station: the criminals. The criminals who watched every street, every intersection, every door of the government. It is on the weekends that you know who really needs to work – for money, for profit, or out of necessity.
He was looking at one such tangle of streets, which was in the poorer land locked places in the town. Of course there were places which might be called “ strip clubs” in the West – but even local men needed someplace to engage in the steamier side of events. Thus off the main street were the places where men from Haiti would gather, though as often as not they did not actually have sex – just a stimulation. Because of course, men could have sex – but the toiling masses were not really men at all – in the minds of the prostitutes they were nothing more than sheep, not willing to grab what they wanted. And the women knew this instinctively, almost encyclopedically. While women do not read; they are none the less educated in what the business offers. Since men run the world; women run the men, until they get out of Haiti – and find that the world is very different from Haiti.

World is different, it requires one to meet people who have been there, and thus it is a secret kept from the majority of women – or is only a dream that they have.

Of course Dr. Kenold was disappointed that Jules was not there – though he had expected this. But after an hour he returned to his office, and stared in intense concentration. Of course the intensity was part of his way of forgetting all of the things that distracted him. The curves, the light, the shining in her eyes. It was all so beautiful, but he could not even reach for her hand to kiss on the cheeks. In a word, he was afraid; though he did not know of what precisely. There was a trembling to her form which bewitched and beguiled him. Then he realized that even his concentration was not sufficient, so he re-doubled his efforts and constituted on the side streets.

However, but, of course, and, his thoughts were still drawn to the meeting that was not. So he shifted his gaze to another part of the city: that of Route 1 – and its meander to the north, past the airport. It was near where ships unloaded, and each step was seamier than the last. He gazed at all of the side streets, and looked at both the Annex and the main building of a hospital. What was odd about this was their was no reason why the UN should be digging a trench where they were – at least they had not told the government what they were doing. And this was odd, because the UN was actually very good – at least on the scale of telling what they were doing. Realize this was not New York City, which there was an interplay between government and contractor. Most of the time people did what they want and only if they were caught did consequences from the government come into play. The UN was not supposed to be like that, because they were trained in large numbers of cities around the world, and took great care to respect the presence of laws, customs, and the little innuendos – which included bribing people who needed bribes. In fact, that was Dr. Kenold unspoken role.

In fact, the longer he looked at the digging – the more it seemed unusual. A gnawing uncertainty grew inside his mind – what if the UN were trying something not allowed? Even if eventually what they were doing would be dismissed with a gratuity, it would make sense that Alix would be involved in sliding someone who was not formally part of the government – everything would then be secret.
Under normal circumstances, Dr. Kenold would have dismissed this; but the weight began to tilt is mind towards the corrupt and venal. He wondered if there was something to it; how he could figure that out if it were. A thought occurred to him that he could drive out there and check, but he dismissed this almost immediately. But there was something that he could do, because he noticed that more digging was out North of the ship unloading. He knew someone who he could call, and have him investigate what the digging was. Immediately this sounded like a plan to him, and immediately started to dial on his phone the number of his half forgotten friend. At least it was a friend in a sort of way – he visualized the thin man's body with a tight cropped hair – which pleased his wife.
But he only got a message, and it was not even well worded.

“Allo? This is your old friend, Kenold. I have a little bit of a problem that you can help me with. I want to know if there is digging going on – especially if foreign individuals check the progress. Give me a call. “ he stopped and wondered if he should say goodbye, but thought better of it and hung up. He would of course tell his friend a little bit more than that. After all, this would be on his personal phone not his professional phone. If there were any secrets, that layer between the 2 devices might be useful.
He worked late into the night – and finally his friend called him, and they set on a short konversation about what he wanted his friend to look for, and tell him and the morning what he found.

Monday, February 12, 2018

Fon d'parikulur 10 janvye 2010 - III


It was not a long wait for the mamba to come, and when she came she was only in a red dress, without the trimmings that defined her in the ritual. But she was still impressive, even as aged as she was. She did not even look at the other patients but went directly to Jules bed, and instead of sitting – stood there with her hands folded. Their was an air of menace, and a distant haughtiness – and before she spoke she glanced up and down at Jules – as if to take an image of what happened to someone who held a secret.

And a secret she had, bought Jules did not know what it was. But the mamba did, and she hushed her tone of voice to relate the story that the loa had recited when she had control of her body – because it was a woman who told the story. Once Jules realized that it was a woman she relaxed into the bed – because her greatest fear was assuaged.

There was no motion on Jules part, but the mamba made a swaying gesture, as if she was mimicking some ritual dance. And this was the story that the mamba told, her voice lighten, as if she was ridden by someone who was much younger, and more slight:

“First you must know mine name, because the name is the most magical thing that any person possesses. It defines whether you are a man or woman, it defines whether you are young, old, or ageless. It defines who your friends, and foes are. You may call me Anaisa Pie Danto. The glorious nature of love is my domain – love for money, love for happiness, love for loves sake. Do not worry to not fret, because I am a playful spirit – closed in yellow and pink. I travel with my other half, who is called Saint Anne. But enough about me, because all will be revealed in time.”

“When I come to the middle land, it is always for a purpose, usually it is light but sometimes it is for ill. Because sometimes a person can violate love to the extreme, and I become angry. This time I was here for a person, a person who is confused. I thought to help this woman, especially in her time of need. But you know which women it is, because I am now speaking through her mouth, and telling her story. Even though she will not admit the truth of what is to be said. But I know, and soon you will know – and if you are a good follower, you will help her – and not to harm her. In this way each will secure a good rasa, to use as Bondye – Mon Dieu – sees fit.”

“It was on the island of Haiti that I saw this woman alone, and at first I thought that I would help her find someone to love. A mad passionate kind of love would not be right, but instead a steady secure kind of love. At first I thought to send her away, because she has relatives in other lands – most especially the United States of America. But I looked away to attend to other things, and when I looked back, it was here that another Loa had been there first.”

“Glass had been shattered on his head, because he was not there to deliver good, but to deliver harm. His body was firm, and he knew the ways to seduce a woman, because that is his purpose. He had a great mastery of all of the features, and all of the rhythms.”

“Oh the great rhythms were what he was best at – But not so with hiding his contempt for the woman that he was – because this is the only word that can be used – fucking. It was a word that was on his face, even as he smiled and inserted. The slow and rhythmic insertion was in counterpoint to the terrible and nasty look on his face.”

“You should know that such a face boils my blood, and I could not stand the smirk – it drove me wild. But what was I to do about it? For though I come through the beyond, there is a price for everything that I do in this mortal realm. Therefore, I have to think about whether it is truly worth the price – or some person must exact something of themselves. The woman did not yet understand what I knew – and it would be too late. I know because I see into the future and the past, and she would find out in time.”

Reaching out of the above – the mamba stopped, as if she were taking a rest. Allowing all of the listeners to catch up with her. And their were many listeners, for about half of the people were quietly listening in – because they could not wait for the next word that the old woman said. Her eyes moved from side to side until she was sure that everyone had understood the deep problem which the invisible spirit was presented with.

The stopping of her breath and the beginning of it were a sign that she was going to continue, it seemed a long moment until her breath started rising and falling. Beginning again:

“Something had to be done about the wicked man, and then a thought occurred to me: surely there were other men who desired her. And one of them had to be a good man – even if there were plenty of wicked men who wanted her as well. Then my purpose in this mortal realm could be fulfilled – because I am not just love, but the spirit which will bring procreation. And who could not want more children in this world – especially from a lady like this?”

“Oh and oh... There must be someone who dripped with tense attention when her hips graced the mirror that was made into a dress. But finding such a person, is not my state – it is to much beneath my station. So that is what I tell all of you to do, including the woman herself. Find a true man, not the monster who plunders your furrow – and drinks a pair from the monster who lives below.”

There was no doubt that the mamba was extremely tired, very very tired indeed. And in a short second, drooped her head down on her neck. She almost seemed to be sleeping. Then she slowly lifted her eyes, and followed with the rest of her countenance. And without a word, slipped into the scrape and scarf of the entranceway. No one tried to stop, and it did not even occur to most. There were certain people who had power to come and go. Never stand between a priest or other person in the way of their course.
Entire affair struck Jules to her core. It was powerfully magical, powerfully mystical, and deeply spiritual – and with that she prayed, and prayed. Because no one else had spoken so clearly to what she felt within – that the man she was spending – herself – with was not the man for her. However, it would be far easier to make the separation to his face, then resolve in her mind. So easy is it to explain to someone else; so hard to do it for your own sake. This thought ran through her head. It was plain; and plain; a had no sense of - prestidigitation, or even visualization in digital. This was so unlike the novels that she carried around in her head, and she thought she would have to work on them.

Nothing ever came.