Kevin looks lost in thought and Father Vitor waits for him to continue, “I wasn’t going to mention this today, but my NGO told me that my last chance airline ticket will be at the Pan Am counter on New Years Day.” Father Vitor nods his head, “That’s the signal. You’ve become a liability for them. They can’t suppress what you’re doing as long as you keep those memos flowing to your home network. But they can cut your financial cord.” Kevin nods along, “Just the way you predicted. They’re throwing an “Associate Director” title at me as if I’m a careerist now.”
Father Vitor chuckles, “That sounds like a terrible fit.” Kevin laughs and shakes his head, “I’m beginning to wonder if they read anything I sent before publishing it! But if I don’t get on that flight I’m on my own. As much as I’d love to burrow in at Ti Legliz, I’m afraid I’d lead the Macoutes to those guys too…” Kevin’s voice fades and he looks utterly lost and alone. Father Vitor looks into Kevin’s eyes, stands, and steps toward him. Kevin starts to stand, thinking it’s the signal for him to leave. But instead, Father Vitor takes him by both shoulders and asks, “I know you’re not Catholic, but is it OK if I send you off with a blessing?” Kevin looks back at him and says, “Not if it’s OK I was blessed by a houngan last weekend. Any conflict there?” With another small smile, Father Vitor replies, “Never was.”
He murmurs a prayer softly and quietly says, “I know you don’t think you helped, but you showed up and learned. Sometimes the only way to help is to get out of the way.” Father Vitor steps into the kitchen while Kevin pulls himself together, using his t-shirt to wipe the tears from his cheeks and wipe his glasses clean. Fr. Vitor returns to the living room where Kevin is on his feet, backpack closed, and boots laced. Fr. Vitor says, “One last thing. After Jè drops Henri off in Port-de-Paix, have him stop by the cathedral and make a $100 gourde donation to the first nun he sees.” Kevin looks confused, “OK, but why is he doing that?” Father Vitor grins broadly, “Even if you don’t get to know what happens, I want to!” They exchange a long embrace, look into each other’s eyes, then nod. Kevin says goodbye to the sisters in the kitchen and shakes hand with the house’s guard, saying “M’ ale andeyo”. The guard just smiles at him warmly, pats him on the shoulder and says, “I know.”
Downtown Port-au-Prince
Kevin leaves the Lada at Mother Mary’s and walks down the familiar road, past the National Cathedral and Presidential Palace to the Iron Market. Unlike previous walks along this route, there are very few merchants since the embargo has destroyed the local economy. But there are still a few half-empty tap-taps at the market and by offering ten times the usual fare, a driver agrees to make the run to Carrefour with half the usual passengers. Kevin sits at the rear of the tap-tap, able to stand on the bumper or hang from one of the handrails, ready to jump and roll if necessary.
He sees what’s left of Port-au-Prince on the way to Carrefour. As bad as his first day was, this is much worse and he’s seen a lot since then. The trash hasn’t been collected in weeks and has piled up along the main highway like sand dunes. Commerce still continues as street kids and merchant women dig through the mounds of trash to find salvageable metal. Kevin sees a group of kids fighting over something in the pile. Without really wanting to know, Kevin glances down as the tap-tap passes. He shudders slightly and squeezes his eyes shut but that never works. The object in question is the wallet from a dead man’s pocket. He’s been shot so many times, it’s obvious a death squad left him there as a warning. But Haitians will survive, and that dead man doesn’t need his wallet anymore.
Kevin drifts into his gray zone, eyes tracking but not seeing, until the tap-tap hits the first speed bump in Carrefour. Kevin watches closely as they roll past his house. He sees that Jè has parked the station SUV inside their little car port, behind all the iron bars protecting the house. Kevin doesn’t ask the tap-tap to stop. He rides along a few minutes more, watching faces in the tap-tap. Finally he decides it’s time to slap the top of the cab and get out. He waits for the tap-tap to turn the next corner, then walks back toward his house.
Jè is outside checking tire pressure and oil on the SUV when Kevin arrives. “Oh, OH!”, Jè says in that wonderful Haitian expression of joy and surprise. Kevin laughs and says, “Baron Samdi himself could not stop me now!” They hug and Kevin says to Jè. I have an interesting mission for you, if you’re not too busy pleasing Tim.” Jè snorts, “That guy is afraid to come down here anymore. The staff and engineers have pretty much just gone around him to the Board. Jè looks over his shoulder and adds softly, “He says he’s staying for another year, but I’ve heard his wife is already back in the States looking for schools. It’s not safe here for any of you blan. No offense, but I’ll feel better when you’re not walking around here like a big white target!” Kevin smiles sadly, “When you’re right you’re right. Not to mention the target it puts on you!” Before Jè can reply Kevin continues, “But come inside and let me tell you about the plan our friends cooked up.”