Our Animals
Today, there are two donkeys instead of several dozen in this village of five hundred people. Together with the swimming pool filled with water from Cyprus’ new desalinization plant, this stocky brown animal decorates the gardens of a household whose head made a lot of money as a restaurant owner in America.
Tombs Called Homes
The sun has been rising hot for the last couple of years to the point that entire agricultural seasons have shifted. White people are calling it global warming, but the farmers who cannot afford irrigation systems say, “The rains are not falling when they are supposed to, so our crops are dying.”
The River Remembers
My father is from Gros Morne, in the department of Artibonite, named after the river. The Artibonite — the longest river on the island, and the second longest in the Caribbean — nourished my ancestors long before I was born. I had never crossed it, but I understood what rivers mean in Haiti. I had crossed others in Jérémie, where I was born.
Time Lapse
In school, I was excited that I’d learn about the riots and the war and the reason everyone frowned when they talked about Nigeria — until our teacher asked why I was curious about death instead of happy things like other kids. I had no answer and felt ashamed.
I Know Why Pecola Wanted the Bluest Eyes
I first became acquainted with Toni Morrison after reading Well-Read Black Girl by Glory Edim. It was the summer before my senior year of high school. My English syllabi throughout grade school never mentioned the Nobel prize author.
Crafting How the Black Panthers Fell From the Sky
Of course, when I began my MFA program, my first professor, Kwame Dawes, said, “You should write about that which you are afraid to write.” He inspired me to take the plunge, peel back the time, and enter the era of my teenage participation with the Detroit Black Panther Party. Initially, I was scared to reminisce.
A Letter to My Grandfather
It occurred to me then that you’d impossibly waged war against Jim Crow for your entire life to maintain your dignity, and you feared that death would rob you of it. As I said before, I don’t know if people are conscious of their final moments, but I can assure you that you left this world with the same grace and dignity with which you lived.
Do They See You?
You blame something bigger. It’s not you at all. Possibly, it’s the country: the way it feels like it’s designed to work against you and the way your soles crack from running around. You keep trying, putting in the effort. Trying, and yielding to a lack of results. It’s as if the system is broken. As if no matter how hard you try, the soil just won’t give back your results.
One of Those Summer Nights
Then, the noise started. Guns screamed. Humans screamed. Animals screamed. The kid didn’t know which side the screaming guy was on. He learned that dying men scream alike. He was scared. He was embarrassed by his fear, but he couldn’t help it.
Ocean Antidote
I remember longing for death in elementary school. Why am I here? What’s the point of living? No one wants me here. In those moments of desperation, I imagined the ocean’s waves crashing on the shore and beckoning me to reunite with her. The second my feet hit the sand, none of that mattered.
