Dreams From My Homeland

By Phillip D.

Many people remember vivid recollections of a playpen or a tree-house or learning how to ride a bike when they think back on their childhood. I step into a completely different world when I dream about my childhood. It is a very real place, rich with beauty and deeply rooted in culture. It is also a land of hunger, poverty, and despair. This world is an island in the Caribbean called Haiti, and it is my home, my love, my paradise. Sadly, Haiti is the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere with an unemployment rate of 70%. If they even know where or what the island is, most Americans envision only this image of Haiti. This incomplete picture is due in part to National Geographic’s depictions of poverty on the island and the numerous adopt-a-child foundations and other charities located in Haiti to help the people living in the poorest conditions.

However, my own personal memories of this beautiful island are a lot different. I remember a Haiti that, next to being an island of despair, is also an island so beautiful. I remember hopping on the bed of my uncle’s truck on our way to one of the many beautiful beaches where the water is a stunning light bluish- green and the sand is golden-white. I remember climbing banana trees and coconut trees as my cousins stood on the ground catching the delicious fruit. I am brought back to a land where the mountains are so large and striking that the sight defies any atheistic thought in your mind. I can see beautiful ebony men and women with magnificently nappy dreadlocks symbolizing how many years of peace they have had and how long they have accepted their existing situations of poverty on this earth. Dreadlocks, which originated in Haiti, not Jamaica, are part of the island’s Voodoo-Afro-Christian way of life. I can recollect the vibrant sound of drums beating and the Kompa music in the air while women in fantastically colored dresses dance to the music. Of all the things that define me, the music of Haiti has molded my musicianship the most. I can remember running with my sister, my cousins, and our friends to the street vendors to buy and indulge in the taste of fried crabs and plantains. I can recall my aunt scolding us because “they couldn’t be sanitary.” These memories bring peace to my mind.

I was born and, in my early days of life, was raised in Port-au-Prince, Haiti’s capital city, the center of all of the chaos. This is the place from which my memories of Haiti derive. I reminisce about all the things I have seen, some are good and some are bad, but all of them have left a lasting impression on me. I had always been aware of the poverty in Haiti whenever I went back to visit, and I had known that people lived a very rough life even when I was little. I can recall driving in my uncle’s car watching the multitude of houses made of rusted scrap metal. We drove by as many homeless people stared blankly out at the traffic, looking as if it hurt to live. I can remember the time when I was walking to the car from my great aunt’s house and a group of homeless, hungry men came up to the car attempting to persuade my aunt to give them some money. The men were so persistent that a number of the men blocked the car, making it almost impossible to drive out of the parking lot.

The violence in Haiti is like nothing I have ever seen before. Compared to Haiti, my neighborhood in West Philadelphia seems safe, at least to me. As soon as you get off the plane in Haiti, you can feel the damage that violence has inflicted on the island. When you walk into the airport, you notice many men dressed in plain clothes but with bandanas around their arms and a large assortment of semi-automatic weapons on their persons. As you walk out of the doors of the airport, you notice that some of the men guarding the building are also children. You can imagine how this sight might start any visit to Haiti on the wrong foot. Every time I have gone back to my home country, I have felt a violent presence, and many times I have seen the violence first hand.

Because of the poor economic conditions in Haiti, the government does not have enough money to keep the 15% of houses that have access to electricity, supplied. As a result of this, every day at around 8pm, the electricity goes out for long periods of time completely spontaneously. I can remember the distant screams of excitement from our neighbors when the electricity finally would come back on after hours or days without power. Recently, more and more of the higher income families have bought generators to generate electricity for their homes and businesses, and then they have been using their business buildings as shelters, especially during hurricane seasons, for the homeless people on the street.

Haiti is without a bright past. The only thing its people still have to celebrate is that Haiti was the first black republic to gain its freedom from its bondage of slavery to France. The government’s only contact with its people is by killing them, and the people’s only response is to fight back just as violently.  Jean-Bertrand Aristide, the country’s former President, promised at the beginning of his presidency that he would lead the country into economic salvation, but his intentions were not to do so at all. In fact, his direction for the country led to more and more economic turmoil. In his first term, the people ate out of his hand, obeying his every request, and believing all of his empty promises. But in 2006, when Aristide refused to leave his seat in office after his second term, the country went into a state of complete chaos. A new type of violence erupted at that time: now both the rebels and the government “army” were kidnapping, hijacking, and killing people. When this violence began to affect the United States, its embassy ended its protection of any American citizens who were visiting Haiti. The Bush Administration ended its efforts to help Haiti to find peace, and Haiti is still currently in this fight for freedom, even without Aristide in the seat of control. When the chaos erupted in 2006, Aristide, afraid of assassination (after many previous attempts by rebel groups led by Guy Phillipe), resigned and fled to South Africa where he continued to rule through the new group of Haitian leaders he had installed into office. These leaders, in my opinion, are not good for Haiti’s future because they still hold to the venomous, governing tactics they were taught by Aristide.

I am Haitian, I have always been Haitian, and I will always be Haitian. Even though I no longer live in Haiti, Haiti and its people hold an extremely large place in my heart. Even though I hold dual-citizenship and I will have to make the decision to become fully an American when I turn 18, Haiti is still my home. In my heart I want to believe that Haiti has a bright future as dim as that possibility may seem. Haiti stays in my prayers. One day, when peace is found for all of Haiti, I will return to the country God intended for me.