Sorry

Five years ago, I was in my fifth year of primary school. A catastrophe occurred. On January 12 of the year 2010 at four thirty, I experienced for my first time in an earthquake.

I was on the rooftop of my home, and I played a game with a friend of mine after school. My mother after hearing me recite my lesson went to sleep. My friend and I had played maybe thirty minutes when we felt the house tremble. Dust began to rise. We ignored what it was. I was on the smooth portion of the rooftop. Suddenly, I was ejected by the movement of the house. I tumbled on my right hand and my mouth hit a rock. My hands were bad. My mouth bled. I cried for my mother in the middle of street.

When she arrived, she took her only son and cared for me. In the night, everyone waited on a space that was close of my house. During this period, I lived on the top part of the city. The government announced a tsunami and everyone abandoned their homes to stay up high. News came of the damage caused by the earthquake. The saddest news was that the Catholic church was destroyed. I had made my first communion in this church two years before. When I imagined the beautiful structure of the church reduced in powder, I forgot my hand and my mouth.

It was the first time that I lived in a disaster. It caused a lot of damage especially in families. Some children lost their parents, some parents lost their children. Some husbands lost their wives. Wives lost husbands. And me, I was close to losing my hand. It was fractured. The doctors put it in an apparatus for sixth months.

I’m from this country, where poverty is king.

I come from where the habitants have nothing to do with their days.

From

where water is fighting to make butter

where waste adorns the streets.

I am from where people do not get tired of putting their hands out waiting for alms from international companies.

I’m from where politicians are quick to sing nonsense to attain power

From

where people grow wings night

where we kill for a piece of bread

where young people are in politics orally

where you can’t go out at midnight

where voodoo is Lord

where people undress for pennies

where the church is a source of money

where a pastor means to be a great fisherman

where gold shines without being noticed

where the oil shines seas.

I’m from what was called the pearl of the Antilles, but unfortunately has become the garbage to pigs