I blogged before (here) about going to Labadee for the Beach Party on our Cruise. We went last week on the Celebrity Solstice, cruising the Caribbean. The final port was Labadee, Haiti.
I decided I wouldn't feel guilty about being there, even knowing that just over the mountain, there are people still without a roof over their heads in Port-au-Prince. Royal Caribbean and Celebrity ships stop at Labadee every week, and since the earthquake, have brought emergency supplies with every visit.
Since we had been there before, we knew to expect a large space for the local artisans to sell their wares. Hubby came prepared to "stimulate the economy," buying wooden carved stuff, and wicker woven stuff, and assorted objets d'art.
I was fine hanging out on the beach for a while, but the winds were high, and the shore was rocky. I had a hard time keeping my hot dog and ribs from blowing off the plate. I started feeling troubled. The spirits were calling me.
It was the same dizzy claustrophobia (even in an open space) I had in the slave dungeons at Elmina Castle, in Ghana. The spirits of the dead were calling me from under the rubble on the other side of the island. Will our dead ever rest in peace?
1 comment:
kisura saraphen,
I have thought of that question myself. If we in our black village, the living, can gain a peaceful rest for our passed, those many in that ocean and others, and about the world, the question remains how to?
And, I find our village is undecided in many ways and grades on how?
Post a Comment