Part 1 (Premye): ESCAPE / ARRIVAL
Escape
Caribbean Sea
Northwest of Port-de-Paix, Haiti
December, 1991
Henri sinks into the sea, his lungs burning as he fights his way toward the surface. It is so dark that he struggles to tell which direction is up, but the sound of the storm that capsized the small fishing boat is still raging. He orients himself toward the sound and forces his arms and legs to keep pumping. Just as he begins to see lighter colored water above him, a strong hand grabs his foot and begins pulling him away from the surface.
He knows it’s one of the other passengers and considers if he can somehow help them. But with his lungs burning, he knows it is only moments before he will give in and breathe sea water. Henri makes a terrible choice. With his free leg, he begins kicking and pushing against the hand clutching his left foot. Finally, he feels the vice-like grip break, his fellow passenger’s cold fingertips caressing his ankle as its owner sinks into the deep. With the last of his strength, Henri kicks and pulls with his arms until he finally breaks the surface and can take a deep breath.
Earlier that morning…
Henri boards the fishing boat at the ancient pier in Port-de-Paix, Haiti along with three other labor union organizers and a few dozen people he doesn’t recognize. Most of the passengers are young men, but there a few young mothers with small children. Just before boarding, the “travel agent” at the end of the pier announces that the passage from Haiti to Miami will cost more than expected. The man explains that due to the economic embargo, the black market price of fuel for the small outboard motor has doubled. For Henri, there is no choice but to pay. He needs to get off this island today, doesn’t have the money for a flight, and can’t get past military security and the Tonton Macoute informants at the airport anyway. After much shouting, threatening, and eventual negotiation, the additional money is paid and the passengers are loaded along with several jerrycans of fuel.
The captain explains the rules of the voyage. He should be called Captain. His first and last name were not important. His only crew member is named “Bouki”. No one should speak to Bouki because he’s not very bright and easily distracted. Everyone must follow Captain’s orders without hesitation. Each passenger is responsible for their own food and water. None will be provided. He does not want to know whether passengers have travel documents or not. While none of the passengers wear life jackets, he explains that there are inflatable life rafts in the hold which can be used if they need to abandon ship for some reason. Gesturing behind him, he adds reassuringly that the small dinghy floating behind their vessel will serve as a life boat if God wills that they need it. The captain and his one-man crew wear the only life jackets because they will be last to leave the boat if there is a problem. They expect to arrive off the shore of Florida before nightfall in two days. There will be no refunds before or after arrival, for any reason.
After all the last-minute arrangements are settled, the travel agent unties the frayed mooring rope and the fishing boat pushes off and begins to make its way toward open water. There is a light wind this morning, so the captain raises the shabby boat’s small sail and explains that he’ll use the outboard motor if the wind died down. By mid-day, they are out of sight of land and into the open water. As they pass the last rusty and half-drowned navigation buoy, the lapping waves turn into rolling swells and several of the passengers begin to get sea sick.
As the sun sets, Henri notices one of the young mothers struggling to nurse her small baby. He didn’t pay close attention to introductions as they settled in, but he thinks her name is Jocelyn. She’s barely more than a child herself, and is trying unsuccessfully to hide a jagged scar across her otherwise flawless left cheek. She’s already drunk most of the water in her gallon jug and appears to be dehydrated after a day of exposure to the sun. The mother makes eye contact and glances with a pleading look toward the two full water jugs next to him.
Henri looks at the baby, the infant’s light brown skin already burning in the sun. He considers offering Jocelyn some of his water but instead asks her baby’s name. Jocelyn beams and replies that the baby’s name is Espwa. She is one month old today! The child cries softly, pushes her face deep into Jocelyn’s open shirt. The baby is exhausted and pulls forlornly at her mother’s sun-burnt and chapped nipple. Jocelyn winces in pain but doesn’t pull away from the infant’s pursed lips. Henri asks if Espwa resembles her father.
The young mother looks stricken and looks far over the horizon. As the sun’s last gasp of crimson sinks into the sea, Jocelyn seems even younger than before she stepped onto the boat. The spell is broken when Jocelyn’s facial expression sets into one of determination. She straightens her lips and her back, adjusts her breast against the baby’s suckling mouth, and replies that the child’s father is dead. Then she hunches her body over Espwa’s tiny form and sobs quietly.