Mistou and I spent nine days together before I flew out to Haiti. I met her family for the first time. While they were very warm and welcoming, I got the distinct vibe that next time I showed up, I’d better have a bottle of vintage champagne and an engagement ring with me. I knew Mistou didn’t truly give a fuck about marriage as an abstract goal, but still- I could tell she agreed with her parents. I knew it was not a problem to be solved any time soon, so I forced myself to put that issue out of my mind. I’d cross that bridge in two years, if backed into a corner.
In the meantime, she was so beautiful. My attraction to her felt like an undeniable force. Lying next to her felt like peace. But I couldn’t shut my brain off. I had to keep moving.
Hopeton and I met up at the American Airlines terminal the day of our flight. “Ou pare pou Ayiti, bredren?” I asked him.
“Very much so,” Hopeton replied, passport at hand.
The flight there was incredibly chaotic. It took nearly an hour to get all passengers on board and in their seats. Hopeton and I were in business class, in the second row, so we got an up-close view of the proceedings. The flight attendants were so busy they could barely take the time to lace us with pre-flight drinks, but once we were in the air, the alcohol flowed like water.
I let Hopeton have the window seat so he could get a good first view of Haiti from the air.
“Woy, it looks like Kingston,” he said, as soon as the mountain range directly outside of the city came into view. “Except your mountains are bald, Pierre.”
“Yeah, Hopeton, we’re broke,” I replied. “People needed firewood and they fucked the mountains up. It’s called deforestation.”
Hopeton stayed quiet for the rest of the descent. But he was at it again the second we hit the jetway. “Itsmells just like Jamaica!”
And then he heard the welcome band playing Twoubadou music. By the time we turned the corner and actually saw the musicians, I thought he was about to break out into a two-step.
I could tell Hopeton was gonna be a handful in Port au Prince. I managed to rein him in and get us through Immigration and luggage pick-up with no more than the usual aggravations. Mireille had kindly sent a driver for us, which took a load of my shoulders, logistics-wise.
As soon as we pulled past the airport’s roundabout, I asked the driver to take us to change some money- there was always a knot of street changers right outside the airport, by some food stands, near where the taxis congregated. May as well get some gourdes and let Hopeton get a look at the competition. He found it all so fascinating.
But the ride from the airport was like a stake driven through my heart. It was so painful to see the destruction first-hand. Street life was still spilling out from every direction, but it took place amongst piles of rubble. Endless stretches of tent camps lined either side of the main road. Hopeton’s head was on a swivel, taking it all in.
Driving up to the Karibe Hotel entrance was like approaching an alternate universe- neat, clean and peaceful. No sign of tragedy at all. The hotel itself was outsized and solid looking, with a three-story reception area that was stunning in its beauty, especially immediately following the gauntlet of devastation we’d just run ourselves through. If I had to describe our first view of the lobby as if it were a photo in a travel magazine, I’d say: Floors and walls were constructed with locally crafted tiling and brickwork in shades ranging from pale ivory to burnt sienna. Iron railings forged in Croix des Bouquets lined each open level, and a massive, handblown stained glass installation covered the length of the ceiling. It was incredible.
“Let’s go to our rooms and clean up,” I told Hopeton once we’d checked in. “Come over to my room when you’re ready. We can head down to the pool area and take a look around.”
“Are your friends stopping by for drinks tonight?” Hopeton asked.
“Édo’s supposed to be checking in in an hour or so,” I replied. “And I need to text Mireille to see when she wants to link.”
It would be good to connect with Édo and Mireille at the very top of our trip. There were things Hopeton and I could do without any guidance, like go check on my family in Furcy, but the bigger moves- getting a lay of the land, chasing down job leads, couldn’t be made without their help.
