Matt is Australian. He’s in his late twenties and is big. Not fat, just a large man with light brown hair pulled back into a shaggy combination of samurai bun and Cheech & Chong pony tail. He has a loud voice with a very obvious Aussie accent and is impossible to ignore. With all the anti-American energy around the country, he wears a vest with an Australian flag on front and hand written message on back, “M pa Amerikan. M Austrailian!” This distinction is lost on most Haitians. As their national song proclaims, “Ayiti cherie, pi belle peyi, pase lot peyis!” Their most beloved and beautiful Haiti, anywhere else, and the US which might as well be the moon.
He’s former military of some sort and has been assigned to Mirogoane for “male energy” security. It endlessly irritates him that if the shit hits the fan for real, he’s going to need a damn Yank to get him in the US Embassy because Australia doesn’t have one here. Well really, he’ll need Ashley to bat her lashes at the embassy Marines. She’s already gotten them each to buy her drinks at the Montana Hotel. There’s a saying in Creole, “Tout blan sanble”. Matt needs to keep his head on a swivel like the rest of the Americans because a dechokaj mob is unlikely to read the fine print.
When Kevin arrived earlier, he recognized Jocelyn from Ashley’s pickup truck; lighting kerosene lanterns and setting out carafes of filtered water. Ashley now explains that Jocelyn stays in the NGO house and helps with cleaning and cooking. Kevin is still not comfortable with the class implications or how easily Americans become accustomed to “the help” they could never afford back home. But all the blan and Haitians hire domestic help. Blan who don’t hire a Haitian maid are considered to be miserly and mean. Unless one’s project is to perform manual housekeeping in Haiti, it’s much more sensible for an American to hire domestic help. It’s also one of the few legal sources of income for many Haitians, as Kevin will later explain to the NGO bean counters. Thanks to Tim’s attempt to censor Kevin’s mail and the resulting panic back home, there are some who suspect he’s down here building either a plantation or a guerilla army.
When the conversation on the roof pauses, Kevin says, “I’ll eventually need a maid. How did you find Jocelyn? Did someone recommend her?” Ashley hesitates before replying, “We met her during our first project and she started working for us soon after. It’s a long story but she doesn’t have many other options. She’s been a huge help in so many ways.” Ashley goes down the ladder to replenish supplies on the roof. While she’s downstairs Matt adds, “Since Education NGO runs schools for Haitian kids, Jocelyn is able to get a free education. But even better, she’s become a tutor for the younger kids who are struggling with math. She has a safe place to stay with a few clueless blan, and doesn’t need to deal with what goes on behind the market stalls.” Ashley is yelling up about the corkscrew and he calls back with exaggerated accent, “Aye, Sheila. It’s up here with the shrimp on the barbie!”
Ashley returns to the roof with two more wine bottles and they chat idly while looking up at the sky. Throughout the night, they’ve paused conversation to listen to the occasional sound of gunfire. Kevin is debating caliber of round and rifle vs shotgun, when Matt starts talking about his Australian military service in a police action Kevin’s never heard of. They drift briefly into the pacifism, non-violence, self-defense lane but lose interest as the boom and pop of weaponry continues. They decide the gunfire isn’t getting closer, so they doze and smoke and drink until the sun starts to rise and the neighborhood roosters demand that everyone get up and present themselves.
Jocelyn has already made coffee and has it waiting in the courtyard, along with Laughing Cow cheese and fresh-baked croissants from the home bakery across the alley. But most importantly, there are cold jugs of purified water. Not ice cold, but much cooler than room temperature. As they recover from last night’s party and finish their coffee, Jocelyn mentions that no water is coming from the faucets. The tank on the roof is empty and now there’s no running water in the house. Ashley thanks her and announces, “Time to get the buckets out.” Matt and Jocelyn join her, pulling full buckets of water from underneath counters. They place them in the bathroom, kitchen, courtyard. Ashley grabs a sponge and small pail, which she fills from the courtyard bucket. Then she turns toward a wall and pulls her t-shirt over her head. Kevin, Matt, and Jocelyn do the same, turning toward a different courtyard wall. They wash away the previous night’s sweat, dust and smoke. Each dries off and gets dressed again while gazing at their wall, until Ashley splashes her pail of water into the drain.
Then each finds a quiet corner for their morning routines. A few hours later without any real command, they regroup in the courtyard. Kevin says, “I have a confession to make. I think I screwed up the water system last night. I vaguely remember tripping over a hose on the roof. Should have said something. That was sloppy.” Before anyone else responds Matt quips loudly, “No worries, mate! As long as you didn’t let a croc into the outhouse! I’ll drive the truck into a river later for a proper bath!”