Dancing in the Baron's Shadow
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Fabienne Josaphat. Dancing in the Baron's Shadow
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My dead sleep in this earth; this soil is tainted red
with the blood of generations of men who carry my name;
.....
Raymond looked away. That voice. Where had he heard it before?
Portail Léogâne sprawled before them, bubbling with curfew’s chaos. It was a transportation hub that Raymond was all too familiar with. The trucks and buses sped away from the curb at full speed, zooming past Raymond’s Datsun in a blur of hibiscus reds and canary yellows, their frames lacquered with biblical paintings, portraits, and quotes from Scripture. The drivers parked along the sidewalk honked impatiently under a row of palm trees, their horns blaring “La Cucaracha,” weaving yet another song into the street’s antic brouhaha. Street vendors swarmed through the parked cars, sandal-clad feet stomping against the hot asphalt, headed home with their products tucked away in baskets atop their heads. Others were still brave enough to linger behind, raising oranges and roasted peanut toffees to the windows, desperate for one last sale. “Bel zoranj, bèl chadèk! Beautiful oranges, beautiful grapefruits! Won’t you buy a dozen, darling? Good prices for you, pratik!”
.....