[...] My father worked in a Port-au-Prince shoe store at the time, and he recalled how Macoutes would walk into the store, ask for the best shoes, then simply grab them and walk away. He couldn’t protest or chase them or he risked being shot. His boss finally came up with a solution. He ordered a large number of third-rate, non-leather shoes that looked like the real thing but cost only three dollars. Most of the Macoutes who walked in either didn’t care or couldn’t tell the difference. If they asked to try on a pair of shoes, my father was to show them only the cheap shoes. Papa always got a knot in his stomach when a Macoute asked him if there were any other shoes. He’d try not to shake as he replied, “Non,” all the while bending and massaging the three-dollar shoes to make them appear more supple. In the end, it was this experience of bending shoes all day and worrying about being shot that started him thinking about leaving Haiti. [...]
| Go read the rest of Edwidge Danticat's New Yorker essay "Marie Micheline"
post title from the Arcade Fire's "Haiti" (via Wikipedia)
posted in articles on June 4, 2007 3:29 PM | t (0)
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