During a recent telephone conversation I had with one of my sisters, we reminisced on our childhood and the life we left behind in Haiti. Since the recent earthquake, I must say that Haiti often comes to mind much more than usual.
During the conversation, a girl I knew back then, came to my mind. Her name was Evelyn.
Evelyn must have been in her early teens from what I can recall. I was much younger but I remember her as clearly as if she had been and had remained a part of my everyday life. I’m not sure exactly why, but there was something that made her a permanent feature of my memories.
My sister was very impressed that I remembered someone so vividly whom she herself could not remember a thing about. “Who is that, I don’t remember her”, my sister continued to tell me during the conversation. “You have to remember her” I insisted. Unable to understand how she could have forgotten Evelyn, I made every attempt at describing Evelyn to her. I could visualize Evelyn and remembered exactly what she looked like, her height, the way she walked and spoke. “ Evelyn spoke differently and walked differently”, I said to my sister trying to bring back her memory. That too, didn’t ring the bell.
I remembered Evelyn’s facial gestures, her unsteady gait, the constant move that body made, her arms moving in every direction, Evelyn seemed never at rest. The way Evelyn walked was different than anyone else that I knew. Her gait was a slow movement followed by a quick pull of one leg almost as if her legs had a mind of their own. The way Evelyn would move her legs dradding one while the other seemed not wanting to move, it seemed a constant struggled but she always won. Evelyn was a live and happy marionette. The way her tongue would come out when she talked was unique. Her tongue would stick out as she if were making funny faces, and often, that, would make me smile. Whenever Evelyn spoke, her body would go through spasms, when she walked, her gait reminded me of the marionette the nums used to give to me during holidays The sound of her voice, a monotony that would elevate at anytime during the speech, was almost entertaining. She simply stood out. Evelyn seemed so determined and never still. What I remembered mostly about Evelyn was the big smile that she always had on her face. Than one day, the smile disappeared.
In a culture that holds people in contempt for being different, a culture that mocks the mentally ill, where people with learning difficulties are referred to as “egare” or stupid, and those with any physical impairments as called “Kokobe” or “retarded” it was not the best environment for Evelyn. She was often called “Kokobe”. Evelyn would go about her business and murmur, “no, I have cerebral palsy”, and “it’s palsy, I’m not retarded”. It was from her that I learned the term “cerebral palsy”. From the smile that never left her face, I learned pride. I had no idea what cerebral palsy was then and I’m sure none of these folks knew either. I’ve also learned that folks don’t always know what they are saying. I have to admit that Haiti is not he most hospitable place for anyone with any sort of impairments and Evelyn was not the only one to have experienced extreme unfairness so prevalently ingrained in the Haitian culture.
Clearly to the grown ups around me, Evelyn was a “kokobe” because had a speech impairment and she walked with a limp. To me, she was just Evelyn and she was as different as everyone around me was.
Evelyn, did not need a cane or crushes or a wheel chair, she walked by herself just like everyone else did. She was independent and did a lot around where she lived. Evelyn was one of the modern day slave girls a “restavek”. She lived with relatives and did the housework for them in exchange for being fed and a place to stay. In all of these cases, the “restavek population is abused sexually and physically, emotionally and is kept illeterate. She had to face that status too. Her cerebral palsy was not the only difficult that she faced in life. As a matter of fact, cerebral palsy did not seem to stop her, afterall, someone took her from her family and used her for free labor.
The day I saw her head down, Evelyn was without her smile. I also noticed Evelyn had grown much. Her waistline had gotten thick. Everyone kept saying that she was going to have a baby and she eventually she did have a son. She was 13 years old I heard.
Folks used to comment that the boy was a carbon copy of the man whose wife had taken Evelyn into their home to work as a “Restavek”. I hope that stops with the boy, the circle of course.
I just can’t understand how my sister managed to forget Everlyn. I was just 8 years old then and still remember Evelyn as if it were just yesterday. Would you have forgotten?
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