In the bottom right are the red plastic covers we put over our food to keep bugs off. There's no electricity and no fridge, so if you don't eat the food the moment it's cooked, you cover it. In the center are shelves that holdvarious decorative things, plus the radio. It runs on batteries. The batteries don't have to be replaced often. There's a wire that runs from the radio out to a tall antenna held up with PVC pipe on the roof. We generally listen to a mix of American popular music, and Haitian popular music (which is definitely influenced by American music). I, feeling somehow more free to be myself in my new life as a bizarre white boy in Haiti, dance to the music pretty much as often as I feel like. Once I danced on the roof, where any neighbor could see, because I could hear the music and I liked it. Malenn, who had become one of my friends, couldn't hear the music from the next house down the road, but watched me dance anyway. She said she liked it.
After a few weeks, Haitians who had called me "blan" (which can mean "white" or "foreigner") are learning that I speak Creole, live like a person without money, hang out with regular people. (maybe I should have brought more money from the US, maybe not.) And one or two people start calling to me, in jest maybe, "Ayisyen" (Haitian) instead of "blan". Some folks start referring to me as "the Rasta foreigner" and some tell me I'm Haitian. I feel like I've really been invited in to their homeland.
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