Introducing my brother

Zick, pictured right, is my brother. After 27 years, I can finally say I have a brother, a younger brother. He asked if he could call me sister. I'm not exactly sure why, but we both enjoy listening to music, dancing, and writing.

On July 22, Zick asked me about what I was writing. I told him that I was writing about my day. I was often seen writing in my journal (a thoughtful birthday present from Amy). He asked if I had written about him; of course I had. I promised to show him what I had written later that day. Much to my surprise the words I wrote were objective, matter of fact. Sure, I wrote how we listened to his ipod while walking the streets of Haiti. We listened to French worship music; he sang for me in English, always interpreting. It was a special moment, a special connection. Listening to my ipod alone feels lonely. Worship music is our mother; God, of course, is our father.

After Zick saw what I had written, I asked him, what I should write about Haiti? What should I know about the country; what could I share with others in America who have yet to visit?

He told me was a writer; what he didn't tell me was that he's a poet. Keep in mind, it took us two days with plenty of interruptions, so transitions may be lacking. This is his response with minimal intereference from me:

Haiti is a good country. It has a beautiful sunset. When someone is taking his time to look at the sunset, he might find a word to express God's beauty.
If someone doesn't experience God's presence, he [should] come to Haiti and let the breezes embrace him. It's like a tiny [part] of God's presence.
There are a lot of trees and each one is marvelous.
The children are so funny. They used to say "blanc, blanc, blanc" when foreigners pass by. They say [foreigners are] wonderful. It's like the flame of love.
Talking about love is the center of the Haitian heart, because they experience God's love and show God's love to others by the way they behave. when Haitian people say hi to someone, he has a smile on his face.
Even if the earthquake touched their mentality or their lives, they stay strong as a lion.
Late at night we can hear some noises, but it's so sweet. We can say like the sound of a bird. Even if there are some sweet noises, it's so calm because the noises are sweet music that enters into each house. It's like Mozart's music; it penetrates everyone as a good morning.
When the sun rises [and the breeze blows], it's good. When the sun is shining, life has a new sense. It might be people go to work or some yelling on the street. It's a kind of way to survive; everything they do they give themselves in it, because they know life has a good sense, even though it's hard to live here. After the earthquake, life is so hard.


You are sick, alone, life has little sense for you, you want to know more about life, you want to know what love means: you can find the answer in a small country. Even if people say it's a poor country, but it's a greater one because you don't need money to live here. The main thing that you need is love, patience. Why patience? Because it's the thing that everyone needs in their life. For instance, you need something and you pray [to] God for [it]. If you don't have patience, you can act without God's will. Patience [to] wait [for] your day. When your day [comes] and [you have what you desired], you will live with joy.
Love is a center of this nation. This country that we described like that is Haiti. The door is open for everyone. You want to experience love? Come and receive. Don't be scared. Don't believe what the news said about [Haiti]. Imagine that you see a pineapple tree and people say, "This fruit is not good," and you never taste one, but you see someone [who], every day, eats one. What will be your reaction? It's a way to say come, and you will see.