Haiti Part 3

Maybe if I asked her to listen to me for a second to educate her that the people of Haiti were not just my people but they were hers too. Is that the problem in American or just Black people? They separated us for so long that we cannot even claim each other as our own? We have to continue to differentiate ourselves from each other.

“I’m not Haitian, I’m Jamaican.”
“I’m not from the South, I’m an up north girl.”
“I’m not dark-skinned, I’m brown skinned.”
“I’m not African, I’m Black.”
“I’m not a nigger…”

Lets say there were 10 children who grew up in one house. Same mother, same father. From babies to teens we are all the same. The house burns down and all ten are taken and brought to 10 different places. Life goes on, all 10 children have 10 more children and the cycle continues. What if the original 10 children never saw each other again? Their children didn’t know who the original aunt and uncle are. When another house burns down, the original 10 childrens offspring’s know 1 of the originals offspring’s needs help. But they don’t know them. They never meet them; in fact they don’t even live in the same country as them. Should they even care about people who have done nothing to add to their lives?

“I’ll send 5 dollars,” one says, recognizing something is better than nothing.
“Not my problem,” another says.
“I know who that is…they owe my neighbors money! Thank God it’s not me,”
“It’s too bad what is happening at their house,”
“What can I do?” The last one asks.

The grandmother sees and hears everything. She’s broken that all of her children are so separated. They are so broken that they don’t even recognize each other. She thinks about the original 10. They were so close. What if the original 10 never separated? Maybe they would be like the children in the beige house, or the yellow house, maybe like the ones in the red house. She starts crying. The grandfather comes in.

“Africa, what’s wrong,”
“They don’t know each other,”
“They don’t want to know each other,”
“But the originals-“
“They are gone now love,”
“Remember when they were teased and called rainbows?” Tears are in her eyes.
“Yes, because they were so many different shades,” he squeezes her hand to comfort her.
“Why can’t they see? We all grew up in one house.”
“They don’t want to love,”
“But they kill each other, put each other down, don’t help the other one even when their house burns down!”
“They don’t want to-“
“That is not how they were built. They were not built to be this way. Strength runs through our blood. We had the strongest house on the street. Courage, power, humility. I’ve had enough!” She jumps up.
“Africa, calm down.”
“I will not calm down. I want everyone home right now.”
“How do you suppose you are going to do that?”
“I’m going to make the earth shake.”

Haiti Part 2

“Maybe if Haiti was forgiven their debt, they could rebuild themselves better,”
“I think they should pay it off.”
“Excuse me?”
“If you owe money you should pay it off.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Haiti is getting enough help and America is always trying to save people when we have problems of our own.”
“I can’t believe you are saying this shit.”
“I’m just saying, my people,” she pauses. “In New Orleans are still suffering from Katrina and Haiti is getting 300 million dollars and you want them to get a debt write off?”

I am in shock and full of anger. Before I speak, I ask myself if I should I let this fake history buff have it? Or let her continue to make an ass out of herself by repeating this to others. I will let her die of ignorance. I don’t argue with mules.

“See why I can’t fuck with American girls?” Andre says pointing at his Jamaican flag tattoo on his arm. “No culture. Who the fuck says that?”
“Apparently a lot of African Americans feel that way.”
“No they don’t. If Africa fell off the face of the earth and we needed to rebuild it, them niggas would turn their noses up and say, “I’m not African, they should pay their debt.” That’s some ol bullshit! No culture ma, no culture. You see who your true friends are during the bad never the good.”

Haiti Part 1

I was running on the treadmill, damn those holiday pounds, faster and faster. I look up at the television and think, Oh God, why is Haiti on the news…again. I look around me hoping no one notices the fear on my face. An earthquake? I’m running faster. Haiti is asking the US for help? My legs are burning. I turn the music up on my ipod and ignore the TV. They are just fine.

“Girl, Haiti just collapsed!”
“WHAT?!”
“Turn on the news!”

I turn to the news and there is a picture of the capital. The Presidential Palace. There is something wrong. They keep showing before and after pictures. The Palace collapsed. The line beeps.

“Hold on a sec,”
“It gotta go!” she hangs up.
“Hey,”
“Earthquake!”
“What happened?” It’s Lourds.
“An Earthquake hit Haiti and everything collapsed.”
“What the fuck do you mean everything collapsed. It’s just an earthquake.”
“Just an earthquake? Honey a 7.0. hit the capital.”
“Is that bad?”
“That’s very bad. Yo, No one can get in touch with anyone in our family.” She sounds panicked.
My line beeps again. “My mom is calling, call you back.”
“K”
“Hi mom,”
“Jesus” she whispered.
“It’s gonna be ok mom,”
“How can you say that? Have you watched the news?”

I look at the TV screen. It’s not looking good. It looks like total chaos.

“I can’t get through to anyone in Haiti to see if they are ok,” she says in Kreole.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I hang up the phone.

I’m staring at the TV. This cannot be happening. I’m online and I see nothing but prayers for Haiti all over Facebook. I still can’t grasp what is going on. The news is showing more images. There are people still buried…alive. I’m addicted to the news.

“Yo Cuz,” it’s Jeff.
“You see this shit?”
“It’s crazy.”

I haven’t spoken to him in months. I was mad at him. He didn’t come see me when I went home to Brooklyn. He claimed he didn’t get my message. When I changed my birthday he said it was stupid but called on the original day and the new one. I was still mad even after that. But what I was pissed about didn’t matter now. Our country was falling apart and there wasn’t a person in the world that could stop it.

Vying For Excellence

How bad do you want your dream? Do you want it bad enough to fear the success that follows behind it? Success comes with plenty of baggage; do you have the room in your house to store it?

I used to think once my manuscript was completed the hardest part would be getting a book publishing deal. I was wrong. For seven months I sat around with a completed 300 page manuscript ready to hand over to the editor, go find an agent then go after a book deal. What have I done? Nothing. I made up excuse after excuse. I was hiding from what was really scaring me, my fear of success.This fear came from the pit of my stomach that led me to a realization. If I get this published, people are going to read it. My friends, my family, critics, people real live people. I wouldn’t be able to say, “Oh I’m writing a book” anymore, I wrote one. What would people think? Too many curse words? Would people try to find themselves in the book then sue me? What if I have to follow up with an even better book and get stuck? What if, what if, what if I’m successful?

Fearing success is not a good problem to have. It can hold you back immensely.
What it does is hold you back from the truest part of you. Deciding to write a book is not hard, writing a book is hard. The publishing industry is not something to be fearful of, it’s an industry
to be learned and understood.

Writing page after page, thinking of scene to scene and writing something worth selling, can be a huge struggle. The hard work that comes after the completed manuscript is a piece of hard cake. You know what it takes to put yourself out there; there are steps you learn to take. This journey belongs to you. Are you strong enough for it? The rejection letters, constantly going to conferences, getting harsh feedback from editors, are you ready? Are you ready for that success? Of course you are!!!

What holds many of us from success is endless, but one of the main issues to get over is the fear of rejection. Anything you do can be rejected because there is always someone who is not going to like you or your work. That’s ok, it’s just one person and in some cases more people but not everyone!

So Random House didn’t give you the book deal of your dreams, guess what? There are several other publishing companies waiting for the first twenty pages. Maybe you end up in the self publishing industry, try your luck there. You’ve just got to keep trying. What harm can you posses if you lived your dream? Anything worth keeping is worth the struggle to get to it. “Within each of us lies the power of our consent to health and sickness, to riches and poverty, to freedom and to slavery.
It is we who control these, and not another.” -Richard Bach (Illusions) Take what is yours, especially if it leads to your success.

Till Next Time,
-Mackleen