Death without honor — the price of power
Aila is 6, she knows. Already she knows and sees the pain. The expression of pain is everywhere. She walks onto the shop that once was and sits on the rubble. The black sky, murky and solemn like the people. Death sinks them all. She’s 6 and she smiles. Her brother makes her giggle.
He shakes his hips and moonwalks flapping his arms like a chicken. Joy now. Here. Aila laughs and stands up to join Haiti shaking her hips. She laughs while it mists. The sun behind the clouds now gone, the evening grey sets in. The thick clouds dimming the daylight but keeping both children visible to each other. They see joy and experience laughter in the ruins, in what was, in the present they see joy in the midst of a destroyed past.
Without warning the sky turns to fireworks.
“Haiti!!!!!” Aila screams.
If she didn’t dance with him. If she hadn’t laughed. She shouldn’t have danced. She shouldn’t have laughed. It was her fault. Haiti.
“I’m sorry Haiti, I’m sorry Haiti, I’m sorry, Haiti, I’m sorry”
The nurses surrounding Aila could not console the child. Her nightmares had been getting worse. She seemed unable to tell the difference between wake and sleep. Her screams could be heard on the entire floor. It had been 6 weeks since she was rescued from the rubble. Her spinal injury and burn marks mild compared to her dreams. The nightmare of the bombing had affected so many people. So many lives lost. So much senseless death.
The hospital was overrun when it happened. In the aftermath it was determined to be a retaliation bombing. The country’s leaders had decided they were going to counter attack. They hadn’t anticipated the large demonstrations against the move. Around the hospitals the staff were all concerned that the war would produce more death.
More than anything Aila loved her brother. They had walked to Pembroke to see what had become of the family shop. Their parents were volunteering at the food drive and the news had come that the area was not a safe zone. Haiti told Aila they could go and quickly see what the shop looks like before their parents even missed them.
She stares through the nurses surrounding her bed. One nurse pats her face dry and wipes her nose reminding her to stay still. One nightmare begins as another ends. She can’t move her neck. She can’t feel her legs or her feet. Most of all she can’t feel her brother. He’s not here. She closes her eyes to find him. She squeezes her eyes shut mouthing his name into the air. She begs the air for Haiti. “Bring me to him please”
“Aila? Aila”
The person’s hand is touching her head and stroking her hair. She keeps calling his name to the darkness where he once was, where she last saw him.
“Aila, please calm now love”
She mouths his name hoping to go back to him. To the moment they saw fireworks. To his flapping arms like a chicken. To his moonwalk. To him.
“HAITI, Noooooooooooooooooooo!”
“Sedate her now for god’s sake Sharon!”
“Haiti, please…”
“Aila, let’s go see the shop, it’s just around the corner”
“Haiti mom and dad will get mad”
“No they won’t, they won’t even know we’re gone”
“I don’t know”
“Yes you do, you know I’ll always keep you safe, plus, don’t be a scaredy cat!”
“I’m not a scaredy cat!…Ok, so let’s go Haiti”
“What did she say?”
I think she said, “Let’s go Hattie? Who’s that? Maybe whoever that is can help us find her family.”
In war nobody wins.
