Skip navigation

Saturday, Dec 5th.

Tonight i saw what a brothel looks like – bordello, whorehouse…call it however you want. it’s the same. if you live in haiti or have already spent time in the streets (because yeah, some people live there but only spend time in their car and don’t know shit about what’s happening)… yea, so… if you live in haiti you must’ve already seen how bees react when a machann fresco is around. they invade him, go around the syrup in circles like forever, and try to go away with you once you’ve got your fresco… the boys looked like that. some were just sitting in front, on the side of the street, most of them were standing in a big crowd inside, waiting for their turn or trying to get a shortcut by flirting with the girls that were outside the house: pstt… only money flirts there. i was disgusted when i started spotting the girls, they were all prepped and all but they looked awfully filthy. i wouldn’t know how to explain… something in their eyes, in their look, in their expression, was keeping them from being pretty or even pleasant to stare at. i think you need guts to be able to keep your head up in a situation like that… the situation where someone’s gonna pay you to share you STD (because you wouldn’t be there if you didn’t have one). the situation where you live in such a small town and everyone knows and talk about what you’re doing… where, by day, everyone talks behind your back when you go by… where the only thing people can say about you is « Mezanmi… tifi saa… m te deja wè sa pou li. podyab manman’l… ». you know all that, better than me. but you’re still walking through all these boys or they’re around you like a bee tree… you know all of them, because here, everyone knows everyone… some live in your neighborhood, some have their wives that get their hair done at the same place as you, some even grew up with you… know your name, your parents, your brothers… because let me say it again, hello we live in haiti… and EVERYONE knows EVERYTHING about EVERYONE. 

here, it’s not like in the movies, they’re not pretty. they’re not sexy. they don’t smile at you – they can’t even pretend to be happy just to please you. here, the business does not work like that they’re doing what they’re doing just to be able to pay jeans and tops to keep on doing it until they’re too old for it. the factor beauty is not part of the equation. it’s like a circle, it never ends… so why on earth would they smile? what’s even the point of being pretty? it’s not like you’re gonna take them to the restaurant now, are you? or go introduce them to your parents… but some girls are actually, some really are pretty… but you know what happens to them? when they’re young new and pretty? when no one has touched them yet? … well, they become like this one fresco that has too much syrup. ALL the bees want it. and they fight over it until it falls apart and become like all the other ones. so when your young&pretty&new… you get one or two weeks of full attention, everyone wants you and only you and all the other girls hate you. but then, when everyone knows you, when everyone already had you… you’re now part of this disgusting circle and to survive you can’t go out. 

the dudes i was with told me they would never let me stay in there, not even to look at them couldn’t stay near it too much because, apparently other girls weren’t allowed in there for too long, not to complicate stuff or confuse people. 

reality? sucks….

One Comment

  1. great post, i like your comparison using the machann fresco w/ the bees.

    brothels are totally surreal places in a way, aren’t they..


Laisser un commentaire

Entrez vos coordonnées ci-dessous ou cliquez sur une icône pour vous connecter:

Logo WordPress.com

Vous commentez à l'aide de votre compte WordPress.com. Déconnexion / Changer )

Image Twitter

Vous commentez à l'aide de votre compte Twitter. Déconnexion / Changer )

Photo Facebook

Vous commentez à l'aide de votre compte Facebook. Déconnexion / Changer )

Photo Google+

Vous commentez à l'aide de votre compte Google+. Déconnexion / Changer )

Connexion à %s

%d blogueurs aiment cette page :