The real Haiti
After the catastrophic earthquake in Haiti in January 2010, I was invited to work as a volunteer for the University of Miami, in Port-au-Prince, doing logistics and some French translation. It was a life-changing experience; Haiti doesn’t do gluten-free, or Fiji water.
A specific memory for me was when I had to ask a young mother if she wanted to take the body of her recently demised infant home with her, or would she like us to dispose of the body at the field mortuary. The lady replied distraughtly that her husband had been killed in the earthquake, she had had a leg amputated, and the “home” she would be returning to was a blue tarp, on a makeshift refugee camp. Her friend arrived that same day, and picked the lady up on the back of a motorcycle.
Where we are born is really just an accident of geography, but I hope that in his next life, Donald Trump is born in Haiti.
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