|
A Little Bag of Popcorn
The bus door opened and the tiny woman standing there, smiled a huge grin and gave me her hand. Dipping her head down, she softly said “My name is Simone - and thank you for coming.” I was smitten. Many things would over whelm me on my first trip to Haiti. The heat, the smell of the streets. But it was Simone’s greeting I will always remember.
When I first met Simone, she barely said two words - but her smile said everything. Improbably tiny, she carried herself with a elegance that spoke to an inner grace that cannot be learned or bought for any price. She was my confidant, my clown and my sister in the djevo. On the morning of our batem, she glowed in her new white dress, the frilly lace framing her delicate features. “Your so beautiful and tiny,” I declared. She smiled shyly, shrugged her shoulders and replied, “I am just a little bag of popcorn, that’s all.”
I gave her my gold earrings as a batem gift. She had so admired them while we in service, and was always fondling them wistfully. I placed them in her ears and kissed her cheeks. She smiled and said she would be buried in them. I was taken back by the remark, but she just smiled her soft Mona Lisa look at me and went off to see to something. Little did I know those words would prove prophetic, when less than a month later, she was reported dead - ravaged by AIDS, and the fevers that racked her little body.
I keep her photos close and look at them often. She made my trip a memory I will always cherish. And whenever I eat popcorn, I think about Ti-Mambo Simone and hope that she is happy in Ginen.
|
