This post is also available in: Kreyol

This short story was originally written in Kreyòl

Jakson has no acquaintances in the US, but you never know what could happen. So he settles for putting the odds in his favor.

Six in the morning, Jackson stretches, sits up, and he shakes his head. He had taken his time to cover his food the night before, but the mice still got to it. He smiles; after all, the tiny creatures must also feed themselves. They are God’s creations, just like himself. He has stopped counting the days since he last saw running water from the faucet. The bit of water left in the water drum has tadpoles in it. He splashes some under his arms, brushes his hair, and his shirt is tucked inside his pants.

He’s ready to take on the day. He’s meeting with Jean Bon-Sèvis in front of the immigration building. After a long six month wait, he decided that today would be the day he would finally get his passport. Jakson has no acquaintances in the US, but you never know what could happen. So he decides to put every odd he can in his favor.

On January 5th, 2023, the newspaper Le Nouvelliste quoted an article published by an American newspaper, The Miami Herald, stating that any Haitian who wants to can request a visa to go live in the United States, provided they have a willing and able sponsor. But this would not be without conditions. Applications will be considered case-by-case before approval can be granted to move. This is what President Joe Biden declared.

Jackson was born in 1994 in the district of Middle of Nowhere. He and his mother moved to Port-au-Prince one December to welcome President Jean-Bertrand Aristide, who was being escorted back by US Marines. A ruthless military junta had overthrown Aristide’s government, democratically voted into power on December 16, 1990. Jakson’s father was a fervent Lavalas who lost his life on a Sunday afternoon while going to a cockfight with his finest rooster tucked under his arm. At that time, Cedras had ordered the Haïtian military to stop all roosters from crowing even at dawn because Aristide had chosen the rooster as a symbol of his. Jakson’s father had committed the greatest crime of his life: he was a Lavalas and walked the streets with a rooster during a coup d’état.

His mother has passed away, but he remembers nights under full moons where the poor woman would sing to him the stories of their lives on their porch in Martissant.

That passport. He must get it.

It feels like a way to fulfill his duty of honoring his mother and father’s memory, who lost their lives trying to give him a better one. His mother had tried to make her way to the United States by boat in the year 2000, but the coast guards stopped her from reaching her destination. No matter what, he has to go to the United States, so he can see for himself why those people are always inserting themselves in Haitian affairs. When they’re not assigning a President to Haiti, they’re opening their gates to welcome Haitians in. Such good-hearted people, these Americans!

Haitians don’t want to see their peers do better. Jackson finds this very disrespectful. Someone with no clue has begun to tell Jackson a load of crap Jackson didn’t even want to hear. He hears the rambler saying that the Biden program is very suspicious. Ki byen Frize te fè pou koukou pou koukou t a fè pitit li pou l rele l Frizelya!!! The first question he asked was, why would the same government that humiliated more than 10 thousand Haitians under the Del Rio bridge in the state of Texas be the same government opening its doors to these same people? He went on to say, “Even the Mayor of the town, Mr. Bruno Lozano, has criticized this careless attitude from the federal government while the humanitarian crisis worsens.”

“The old fool doesn’t like us, elections are coming and he’s just protecting himself.”

The stranger is full of things to say and pushes things further, claiming that even members of Biden’s government had made similar observations. Ilhan Omar, a member of Congress straight out of the democratic party and a concerned human rights defender, posted a tweet saying: “These Haitian migrants suffered greatly to make their way to our border. […] The nonchalant behavior displayed is heartbreaking.”

Jackson isn’t thrilled with the rambler’s attempts to discourage him, but he leans closer to listen anyway. It’s been almost an hour and forty-five minutes since Bon-Sèvis told Jackson he was close by in Poste Marchand but had not yet shown up. So Jakson decided to keep listening to this clearly bored rambler. It looks like this is what he does for a living,

The rambler inhales and drops a bomb, “The old fool doesn’t like us. Elections are coming, and he’s just protecting himself.”

Those words split the crowd in front of the immigration office in two. One side was ready to stone him; the other was cheering him on. While they all agree that they can no longer live in this country with the gang issue added to the overall poor standard of living, many agree that the program should be questioned.

“According to elected Republican Ted Cruz, Biden is provoking a humanitarian crisis, while Donald Trump made the fight against illegal immigration his main battle cry.” He said he read this with his own eyes in a foreign media outlet called Radio Canada, so he had no choice but to believe it.

Just the sound of Biden’s opponent’s name is all it takes for the hairs on Jackson’s body to stand. He has to move, but Radyo Djòl—this is what they’ve nicknamed him in front of the immigration building—rambles on. The straw that breaks the camel’s back is when Radyo Djòl wildly claims that in 1994, Joe Biden supposedly declared that no one would care if Haïti were to be swallowed by the ocean. So why is it that today he wants to show so much care all of a sudden? Something is not being said!

Ti Jak isn’t a big man, so he gets shoved around in the crowd. Bon-Sèvis’ phone isn’t ringing anymore; when Ti Jak calls, all he hears is a “you have reached the voicemail box” message. Ti Jak decides he will take his chances at entering the immigration office. Standing on tiptoe, he realizes that two people can’t walk through the small gate simultaneously. The security guard at the entrance has already taken up half the space. Ti Jak asks himself if the muscular guard could even bend over to tie his shoes, yet here he was, serving as Peter holding the keys to the gates, either granting or refusing entry into Heaven.

Ti Jak feels like his feet are off the ground. He’s not much of a praying man and knows he isn’t being abducted. This is an every-man-for-himself situation. As he’s still trying to understand what’s happening, he feels a baton slam between his shoulder and ear. Suddenly he sees his mother wearing a black dress and holding a white cup, smiling at him, and everything goes black.

Ti Jak is a gardener; he plants and takes care of flowers. It was always a pleasure for him to travel every morning from his house in BelAir, down Champs de Mars, up to Bois Verna, where his clients would wait for him. He didn’t earn much, but the little he did earn made it possible for him to save up and take care of himself. That’s why he always worked with a smile on his face. When he eats, it’s because he’s worked hard for it, which makes him proud. Ti Jak has neither a wife nor children. The desire to leave the country has had a hold on him ever since he saw a car with a government-issued license plate, carrying a politician and a white woman, roll into the neighborhood, leaving a bag full of money and firearms to a former police officer turned brigade leader for what they called “neighborhood protection.” This happened one night in February 2020.

Ti Jak would like nothing more than to live in his country without feeling scared and to continue to take care of his clients’ plants. But the current state of affairs isn’t treating him well. He doesn’t know when they will ask him to join the brigade, and has witnessed what happens to those who refuse the invitation.

A few days later, he saw that same white woman on television saying that the former police officer was a defender of peace. But he saw with his own eyes how that man and his soldiers committed crimes in the neighborhood. They murdered and committed acts of sexual violence whenever they pleased. The worst part of it is that the neighborhood became a lair to hide people who had been kidnapped. And to top it all off, these men felt no shame in flaunting their wealth and power, which is why many young women and men looking to ease their plight brought themselves to these men.

Every day the brigade gains in soldiers. That former police officer now calls himself a revolutionary. He publicly declared they would have to walk over his dead body to overthrow his president. Ti Jak would like nothing more than to live in his country without feeling anxious and continue caring for his clients’ plants. But the current state of affairs isn’t doing him well. He doesn’t know when they will ask him to join the brigade and has witnessed what happens to those who refuse the invitation.

At two in the morning, multiple gunshots wake Ti Jak up, and he feels a strain on his neck. His neighbor had given him medicinal leaves to shrink the lump, and as soon as morning comes, he will need to figure out how to get his hands on some money to buy more leaves so he can prepare a bath. He cannot take from the funds set aside for Bon-Sèvis. The things being gossiped about around him are confusing him. Ti Jak suspects the gossipers are correct, but he also knows he isn’t in the wrong. If home isn’t safe, he has to seek a better life elsewhere. He’s been told that in the United States, the grass is greener, and the sun shines brighter. He might be able to find a small hustle to make a living and take care of himself. As soon as he’s well enough to get back on his feet, he’ll hit the road again, he thought with conviction. He will travel up Lalue until he reaches the immigration office. This time, he has no doubt he will get inside. 

Feature Photo Credit: AFP

Mawon Ann Di Èzli