Valentine
Haiti. I loved mon Roi as crazy and unbelievable as he was. My grandmother didn't give me a lot of wisdoms on my path. She told me only one thing: Beware of the Francais, the Frenchmen. And with reason. But this Frenchman – he gave me a home, in him and with him and for him. I was as happy in New York as I had ever been in my life. Yet, it felt good to be back on the island.
Haiti was beautiful. Turquoise blue water, seemingly endless beaches, mountains, valleys, islands, lakes and warm weather year around. It was a place the gods once kissed with their blessings. It was the Caribbean at its best.
Unfortunately, it was also the Caribbean at its worst. The gods' blessings hadn't brought the people anything good now for centuries. And after an earthquake, cholera and a flooding had devastated the poorest country in the America's in short succession things still were, to put it nicely, chaotic. I had spent all morning trying to find the some people responsible that I needed to get hold of and trying to gather the right forms. It was overwhelming because I ran into need everywhere. But the direness of the situation was a chance. If things were handled rightly it could be a new beginning.
I just wished mon Roi wouldn't had me run around by myself this morning. I had become used to his presence following me like a shadow, his collar giving me the security that I needed to bring out my best, knowing that as I was his property and any of my actions would reflect directly on him, he would stop me before I was in danger to step over a line I shouldn't or before I made a fool of myself. This morning however, he had already left when I returned from taking my sister's kids to school. An uneasy feeling had settled in my stomach when my sister wouldn't tell me where he went. She knew and completely refused! He usually told me what he was up to. This honesty between us was what made our relationship work. And now he told my sister something and not me?
I checked my phone for a message from him again. Nothing. So I forced myself to smile at the clerk, who sent me once again to a different place insuring me that this time I would find the right contact there and left with the address and directions written down on the back of an old envelope. I took a deep breath and made my way there escorted by the security mon Roi insisted on.
What was curious, the building belonging to the address was right smack in the middle of a neighborhood; and it wasn't one of the better ones either. The property itself wasn't shabby. It was brightly colored like many of the old buildings in Haiti had been and hadn't any flaws that some tlc couldn't fix. Locals had gathered around it. It smelled of cookies and coffee. And when I walked in I could hear children's laughter dancing around a very familiar voice.
I stopped in the shadows behind the door frame. Inside the room which was covered up to the ceiling with shelf after rickety shelf full of books sat mon Roi on a pillow on the floor with a toddler on each knee and more children surrounding him. He read from a book in his melodic French voice. He screamed loud and forcefully like the lion and peeped like a mouse. The children watched him enthralled with big eyes. Some sat holding their little bellies from giggling too much. Their mothers skimmed the shelves and pulled out books, showing each other pictures and photos, ever so often sneaking a glance at mon Roi, whispering and blushing while giggling.
I – was confused. Mon Roi entertaining children in what looked like a library or a community center? And I wasn't even touching the subject of how I got the address. I stepped into the room and as soon as I crossed the threshold mon Roi must have sensed me because he looked up and smiled at me like a little boy.
"Regardez mes amis, la-bas est une lionne veritable. If you ask she might even crawl over and scream like one."
Of course the kids begged. So I got down on all fours, wound my way through the little ones and sneaked up to mon Roi growling into his ear. Then I lifted one of the toddlers onto my knee and snuggled into his lap so he could finish the story. It didn't take long anymore. At the end he made the kids look for their own books in the shelves and some volunteers took over who I hadn't seen before in the room.
"So, what do you think?" mon Roi finally ask. He was so proud with himself sitting there on the floor, it made me smile.
"What do I think about what?"
"This place here, the library. Dan helped me to set it up. It's quite a task to organize so many books on such short notice."
"With all what you saw here, all the need there still is, you put so much effort in building a library in a country where almost 50% of all people can't read or write?"
"Yes, exactly. The people here need everything – food and shelter and health care, but beyond all that they need a future in which they are able to provide all this for themselves."
"Yes," I nodded tears welling in my eyes. They weren't tears of sadness for this country, they were tears of joy and love for this smart Master of mine. "No future without education. No education without the ability to read and write."
"Dan and I still need to sort some things out, but we want the hire people here to teach whoever comes in whenever the person has time – just the basic skills of reading writing and finding information first. Baby steps, you know?"
"Mmh." I was beyond words and fought hard not to melt down completely. The children were eyeing me already curiously.
"Besides, you love books, I love books and we both have very fond memories of hours we spent in libraries. I thought it would be the perfect gift."
"Gift for what?"
Mon Roi produced a cupcake with fresh fruit on top from somewhere behind him. It was a wonder it had survived between all the children. "For you, mon amour. Happy Valentine's Day."
Background to this story: About Haiti