A day off, of sorts. I meet my old friend A. for lunch at a restaurant that serves Middle Eastern food, of all things. And it’s really good!
I ride with A. to pick up her son at Union School, one of three elite English schools in the city. The mixture of children coming out is fascinating. About half of the students are children of the Haitian elite, and the other half are those of internationals working or living in Haiti. The pickup area is a Babel of languages and a kaleidoscope of ethnicities.
Interesting to think that all races and nationalities are equal here, united by their economic status and all other considerations pushed aside.
Sonia picks me up at A.’s house. I’d love to stay longer to ask ten thousand questions of the two other mothers who are here for a combined kid/mother play date, but I fear it might be awkward for Sonia. Not only is she intimidated by A.’s four enormous dogs, but I wonder if the other women (besides A., of course) might not treat her as an equal. We would be speaking English, in which Sonia is not comfortable, and perhaps she’s not in their social strata. Economically, I know for darn sure that I’m not, but my white skin and American passport give me automatic entrée to the highest levels of Haitian society. It’s not fair. But then, so little in Haiti was ever fair.