THE HAITI I REMEMBER

 February 28th, 2026

Today I remembered that tiny piece of the island I was born on. 

I remembered my grandma.

I remembered being rocked to sleep on a late afternoon on my dad's lap.

How his voice hummed and his heart thumped, and his anxious tics served as a tonic to make me fall asleep. 

I remembered the taste of black coffee hit the back of my tongue. 

How it felt to eagerly await the arrival of my aunty who always brought me a pink and white sachet of Pistache grillée. 

I remembered my red and white uniform dress. My classmate Coralie.

How my father used to hold my hand tightly as we crossed the streets of Champ de Mars. 

I remember tiny statuettes of the Neg Mawon for sale, carved from wood and dipped in black lacquer. 

I remember the time my grandma took us on a pilgrimage, and how foreign it was ride a donkey. 

I remember tiring myself out and lying on the tiled corridor floor in our house. 

Colored pencils scattered about, my sketch book halfway full. 

I remember the beach, and how my parents never let me swim alone, from fear of me drowning.

So I never really learned to swim until I was twenty three. 

I remember a play date at my friend's - where I discovered I was allergic to pineapples. 

I remember loving the comfort of my grandma's gentleness,

Not yet knowing it was beaten into her.

I remember splashing around in the pool for hours on end.  

I remember middle aged men, cigars in between their lips arguing over a game of dominoes. 

I remember Christmas being warm and smelling earthy and sweet - like boul chokola. 

I remember feeling so safe in my dad's huge arms. 

When I believed he was a Goliath of sorts. 

Watching my mom from above, wondering why she was so giant.

If I'd ever grow up as beautiful or glamorous as her. 

I remember my cousin Geraldine, her being misunderstood for simply being a girl. 

Feeling bad for her, and yet shunned by her all at once.

I remember coming home from school, when my sister was three apples tall and happy as ever to see me again. 

I remember Haiti being vivid, the colors around me never losing their hue. 

These days, I wish I savored Port-au-Prince when I had the chance.

I wish I got the chance to visit my dad's hometown of Jacmel.

And then aux Cayes, and Aux Caps. 

I wish I felt the chilly mountain air of Kenscoff.

I wish I understood why my mom wept so when my great-grandma passed.

I remember Haiti being a paradise of sorts before I left it.

By the time I returned, it had been turned inside out.

But there is a Haiti, and I remember it fondly. 

- vetiveroil