same friday nights in these same streets.

Yesterday i decided to go hang downtown, to see how the streets were even though they told me no one was doing anything because apparently the whole town was in mourning. I still went… I was super weird because i was wearing super high heels and most of the streets still had blocs or even walls that were in the middle of the road… what could i say? i concluded id shut up and just climb the rocks with everyone looking at me with strange eyes. i love it! i love to be weird. The streets have a special smell… the smell of fritay.. fried plantains… fried pork meat… and all other sorts of fried oily fattening stuff… yumm 🙂 Every time we’d walk by one of the machann, Id turn to the guys and says «Fritayy…fritayy…». Not that i wanted to buy anything… I just wanted to let the whole universe know how magic i thought that smell was. The town was dead, (Capital D)… and unlike the other nights, the boys couldn’t make me walk too much because of the heels, so we really had to be sure of where we were going… So, there’s this girl, everyone calls her Na, she does amazing sandwiches. I love to go to her place… She has a small tv that’s always on, always on some weird live haitian concert chanel… on mute! always!… The cool thing (Well, i think it’s cool) about the little room where she sells her sandwiches, is that, on the shelves, she has like Coca-cola bottles, Orange juice bottles, … Shampoo, rinse… Soap… Then, there are four five chairs where you sit to eat your sandwich and lisen to the silent concert… Yesterday there were three old guys talking about their youth, about buildings that the quake had destroyed… One of them was like: «I have pictures… see? (Pulling out a picture from his wallet)… That’s in the Manoir Alexandra… Now it’s totally destroyed, see this girl? She was the love of my life…» And he would drink his Kola Couronne… Reminiscing… Cute.

But i didnt want to spend the night listening to cute stuff… So i went out… We went to the square, that they turned into a refugee thing… with all the red Coleman tents. I love the way people deal with the situation with resignation… We walked by a girl’s tent, and one of the guys asked her about someone… She pointed her finger at another tent and said «She’s at her house»… My point is that, they’re perfectly living with the fact that their tent is their house now…

At that same square, there’s the dude that usually sells candies in front of my school… He has all his candies and cookies in a blue box when he’s at the school… And when he’s at the square, all the candies are covered with alcohol bottles… Kleren with weird names like « Until sunrise »,… or « Breaking bed »,… Cheap rum and whiskey bottles, And that green thing that tastes like mint… Asowosi… And i think it’s beautiful because the shimmering candle light and the multicolored candies…they do like small orange and blue and pink and yellow…light waves… does all that even make sense?

I like hanging with these boys, they’re like the toughest in all the town… Everyone seems to respect them. Their « base » is at a corner…crossroads, under an orange standard lamp, where they just sit all night and talk shit. It’s next to a place where they sell ice cream and they always have old konpa songs playing out loud. I love the weird look on the people’s face when they see me there… singing or dancing. i love it. it’s like having our own street…

But me… my ungrateful little self, can’t seem to sit and enjoy… «It’s impossible!!! It’s Friday, it’s midnight and there’s NOTHING to do?! No no no… That’s unacceptable… Take me somewhere where i can do something!!!» … THey all stared at me and answered «Where do you think you can go with those heels?» So i sat and looked… and laughed, and got up, and danced, sat again, and started singing… and giving handshakes to people walking in the streets… Called random people… asked them for their hat or shirt, enjoyed that confused look they had, not knowing if i was serious or not…

… you see weird people in the streets on friday nights, like the guys on the pictures. officially vrazy. Payed me 5 gourdes in order for me to take his picture. My pleasure…

friday nights…