At rest in the wood and rush rocking chair, experiencing “island time” I try not to doze. My view is from the second-floor balcony, up in the canopy of coconut palm, magnolia, norfolk island pine, and mango trees. Bright red hibiscus flowers peek through laundry drying on the line downstairs beside the front entrance. Mama hen and her six baby chicks chase a jumping lizard around papaya and croton plants, then dodge Jean-Jaques, the kitten, as she pounces.
A block over, Voudou flags hang limply from a stalled-out breeze and hummingbirds flit, searching for mimosa flowers. For the third day straight, despite the season ending weeks ago, Carnival music is still being blasted from the Number One vehicle repair shop across the dirt and gravel road. Even the cinder block walls surrounding our compound cannot protect us from this festive onslaught. But I am captivated by an enormous, unexpected fire burning away half the side of a mountain in the distance. While I snack on my cassav bread smothered in peanut butter the smell of numerous small trash fires, managed by various neighbors, stings my nostrils. The breeze picks up. The Voudou flags wave.
Glimpses of Haiti is an exhibit of tiny watercolor paintings of Haiti. I am grateful to have had the opportunity to hang the exhibit at the downtown branch of the Richmond, Virginia Public Library in November and December of 2019. In fact, I was lucky enough to have shared the exhibit experience with my daughter, who is also an artist and exhibited The Faces of Scream Park.