Read Because We Are: A Novel of Haiti for Free Online

behind you now that you’re here.
    Libète remained silent. She struggled to look her Aunt in the eye.
    — Are all of your clothes in…such condition? Libète opened her mouth to answer. Well, I’m sure they are, her Aunt interrupted. Coming from La Gonâve, you probably all look like — she waved her hand trying to summon the word —
that.
    Libète deflated.
    — You poor, poor thing. To be so far from
sivilizasyon
— that was a word Libète did not know — I can’t imagine it. We shall improve your dress situation.
Absoliman
. No new daughter of mine can be looked down upon in the community on account of her clothes!
    Libète forced a smile. There was shame at having her clothes ridiculed, and excitement that she might be given something nicer. Davidson, who had taken up a stool in the corner of the room, intuited Libète’s feelings and rolled his eyes. He was careful not to let it be seen.
    — You must be hungry, my girl! her Aunt nearly shouted, shooting up and out of her creaking seat with surprising dexterity. After a long trip and a sleepless night, you need some nourishment. And you’re so scrawny to begin with! Did your mother even feed you, child? Come, come, come.
    Libète followed timidly to the back entrance of the home.
    She first noticed the wide stove with its four propane-fueled burners supporting three covered pots and one large skillet, frying what smelled like
griot
. An unfamiliar
konpa
tune emanated from a wind-up radio, the song’s beats mingling with wafting aromas to create an intoxicating combination. The radio sat perched on a wooden fence that surrounded the cooking area, forming a three-sided pen.
    The space was covered by a grey tarp, and at the edge of the shadow cast by the tent sat a blob of a man that Libète had not noticed at first, slumped in his chair.
    — Aren’t you going to greet your uncle? questioned her Aunt.
    I have an uncle?
There had been no mention of him thus far.
    He turned and looked at her with the addled eyes of someone who has drunk too much rum.
    — Hello, Uncle. I am happy to meet you. Libète went to gave the shirtless man a kiss on his cheek but he reeled back in surprise.
    — Who are you? he slurred. His teeth were yellowed, and he had wiry hair protruding from the sides of his head. His tall moustache above his lip reminded Libète of a hairy caterpillar. She did not know how to answer his question.
    — She is our new daughter, her Aunt said sweetly. My brother’s bastard, from La Gonâve. She continued stirring her sauce while checking the contents of another pot.
    — Of course, of course. I remember now. I’m glad you’re here—there’s much work to be done.
    — Come get something to eat, Libète!
Libète
—such an odd name for a little girl, her Aunt remarked aloud. Anyway, take your food.
    She began filling two plates. Libète was used to suppressing her hunger, but with so much food of the type usually reserved for the most special of occasions, she could not keep from salivating. The last time she had meat was when Marie Elise spared a morsel several months before.
    The first plate was stacked high with plantains, griot, mushroom rice, and beans, and even a macaroni dish. Her Aunt served up a modest scoop of rice and a bean sauce on the second plate, and stopped there, putting this one in Libète’s hands. And that is for you, she said.
    — My Aunt, I think you forgot some of the other foods for my plate.
    — Ha! Who do you think you are? Her Aunt’s cheerful disposition clouded. Are you a paying customer?
    — No, it’s just—
    — You should be grateful for what you’re given.
    — I am grateful, I’m sorr—
    — Take this plate to your cousin.
    — Wi,
madam
. I am sorry for asking.
    — Don’t let it happen again, her Aunt snapped.
    Libète looked to the ground in deep shame, unable to muster another word.
    Her Aunt’s expression softened.
    — Aww, my child. All is forgiven. This is a Christian home, but run like a big