Lavil: Life, Love, and Death in Port-au-Prince

BAZILE BERMANTE

28, high school student

We spoke with Bazile Bermante on a bench in a public park in downtown Port-au-Prince. She wore a bright pink shirt, and she also showed us her school uniform, which was inside the plastic bag she was holding. Despite her difficult story of abandonment and chronic homelessness, she hopes, finally, to complete high school soon.

I was born in Port-au-Prince. My parents are from Jérémie.¹ They never married. I have two brothers and one sister, but we are not close.

Since I was eight or nine, I’ve lived in public parks. I sleep in alleys. I sleep behind cars. My sisters and brother won’t take me in. They don’t consider me their sister. They say our mother died because of me.

My father met my mother in school in Port-au-Prince. While in school they started dating, but my grandmother didn’t approve because they were still in school and too young. My father wanted her anyway. So he got her pregnant rather than lose her. My mother got kicked out of her parents’ house. She got pregnant a second time. But my father didn’t take his responsibilities seriously. He left her with two kids. I don’t know why he did that to my mother.

A little bit later he got back with my mother and made me. But when I was born, he said that I wasn’t his child and wouldn’t recognize me. He accepted the other two as his children but didn’t accept me in any way as his child. That brought division to our home. Back then, I always saw my mother sitting and thinking. When I asked her what was wrong, she always said that everything was fine. But she was thinking about the things my father did to her. My father didn’t give us food. Once he even kicked her out of the house, and she had to go live with other people in another house. These things hurt me and are engraved in my memory forever. One day my mother said, “Your life is going to be wasted.” We both cried. From all the things she told me I remember that one. I didn’t understand then, but growing up I started to understand.

One day, when I was four or five years old, my father locked me inside the house and said that I wasn’t his child and that he hated me. That really bothered my mother. After he locked me up, my mom called him into court and they told him that he was doing wrong. After being forced to court he hated my mother so much that he killed her. Yes, he killed her with magic.² He killed her because of me. After killing my mother he went after me, but he couldn’t kill me. He sent people after me but they couldn’t kill me. I don’t understand why they couldn’t do it.

The day of my mother’s funeral, my brother and sisters and I went to live with different people in different areas in Port-au-Prince. We couldn’t meet with each other. We started looking for each other when we became older but that brought division between us. My sisters and brother still blame me for the loss of our mother.

My father died three years after my mother died. After my mother died, he had a lot of women. One of them was very evil and wanted him so she cast a spell on him so she could have him for herself. And later, after she realized that she didn’t want him anymore, she killed him the same way he killed my mother.

I didn’t like my father for what he did to my mother. But the way he did it, he wasn’t thinking. If he thought about it he wouldn’t have done it. If he was here I’d forgive him. I hated the things he did, but I think that evil spirits made him do that. I would never seek vengeance.

After he died, other members of the family on my father’s side sold everything: the houses, and all our goods. They said that we couldn’t possess anything because we were different. They took everything and we couldn’t do anything about it.

After I lost my mother, I was left with the neighbors. They treated me badly. I had to wake up around 3 a.m. to go get water, and I worked until 8 or 10 p.m. In the beginning, I stayed because I was going to school. When they stopped paying for my school, I moved to another neighbor’s house. When I was about eight or nine, I found myself sleeping in the street, in public parks. I was still going to school but when my friends wanted to visit my house it became a problem. I always told them that I would visit them instead and afterwards I would go back to a public park to study and do my homework.

It was very hard for me to find food. At a certain time during the day I would ask for money to buy food, or I would ask a person selling food to give me some. Sometimes I would spend three days without eating and drinking and even a week without taking a shower. I would just brush my teeth and wash my face. Sometimes the dogs and cats would give me hard times, but I just pushed them away and went back to sleep.

When it was raining I used to get under a car, but all my stuff would get wet. I would sometimes go inside a car if the rain was bad and wait for it to stop. If someone saw me, I’d tell them that I’d leave after the rain stopped. I didn’t really have anywhere else to go, so I’d just find another car. Every month I would switch areas because it’s not good when too many people know you from one place. I was always scared of being taken for a thief.

God always took care of me. I always found good spots. No one ever came to rob me while I was sleeping. During the night when there was something wrong, I always felt it through my skin. I usually slept all night long, but when something was going to happen, God always lets me know and wakes me.

Not all the dogs you see in the streets at night are real dogs. A djab is a spirit that dances in somebody’s head. It transforms the person into many things, like snakes, donkeys, or other animals. I saw it with my own two eyes—the spirit gets inside a person and he crawls like a snake and turns into a real snake. One time, I saw something on the roof of a house and it had a hat on its head. Somebody told me that it was a lougawou—a werewolf—and I wanted to see it with my two eyes, but they told me not to do it. Another time, I remember I was coming from night watch at church. I saw a tall man and a short man—I thought that it was a kid walking with his parent, but before I came closer they disappeared. I was walking alone in the streets. But I don’t really believe in the djab. I don’t believe in them, because if I did I would think while I was sleeping in the street they would try to eat me.

Behind the cemetery there were some young girls who went to prostitute themselves. But I always stayed faithful to myself. I’ve always met people who were offering things and I would take them. But some other people would offer me things and I would say no, because I knew they would ask for something in return. I didn’t want to add to my suffering.

I never got into a relationship with anybody, but I had many people who talked to me. I had friends. They were different than me because their parents were alive. Sometimes they would give me some terrible advice. They would ask me to go steal people’s stuff or do prostitution. Things that would make me feel bad. So I told them no, I would rather ask people for money instead of stealing. I didn’t want to ruin my life. They would try to convince me by saying, “You’ll make money.” But my heart never wanted to do it. I also knew that if they caught me stealing, people would beat me, or eventually kill me. I told them that I would rather suffer now because I know one day things will change.

AFTER THE EARTHQUAKE, I FINALLY FELT EQUAL TO EVERYONE ELSE

After the earthquake, I finally felt equal to everyone else. I was already sleeping in the streets. Everybody joined me. During that time it was easier for me to get food, because everybody was sharing. They didn’t care if they didn’t know you. In the public park where I was sleeping there were so many people. I lost all the things I had. I had one of the best spots before, but during that time nobody could say that they had their own spot.

During the night there were people doing bad things. The men were attacking the women. Sometimes when I turned one down another one would try. I was always switching sleeping places. But I never really slept very much. I thought that Jesus was coming, or we all were about to perish.

I GOT THE NICKNAME “LITTLE POLICE OFFICER”

I got the nickname Ti Polis—little police officer—from Pastor Malette. He found out the way I was living from other people I was hanging out with. I used to sleep in churches, but I didn’t go to a specific church. Then I met a friend who told me that she would take me somewhere, and this place turned out to be Pastor Malette’s church, Shalom. I met the people at the church and many of them started to know about how I live, about my poor condition. I got converted. I started going to Shalom often.

The reason the pastor called me Ti Polis was because he asked me to give orders: for example, if people were disturbing the church, I would tell them to move on. He saw that I did it well. When he asked me to do something, I did it and I respected everything he said. He said that I was a good commander and that I could direct. After that day my name was Ti Polis.

When he said that, I smiled. I felt it in my skin. Pastor Malette treated me well. But gossip caused me to not be around him anymore. What happened was, there was a trap set and I didn’t know it. There was a restaurant at the church. The pastor had made me the manager. When people went to buy supplies, I registered every transaction in a notebook. But one day someone wanted to go buy something and there wasn’t enough money. That person told me that the pastor said to bring him all the money at once. I didn’t know that it was a trap. When I brought the financial report, this person called me a thief. She said that I took some of the money, but I told everyone that if it was me, God would judge me. But if it was them, God would also judge them. That day, it was my turn and the next day it would be theirs, and the truth can’t be hidden forever. They insulted me. They shouldn’t have disrespected me like that. After I quit, I went back to the street.

When I left, Pastor Malette wasn’t even there. He only found out I left when he came back. He called me and talked to me. He told me that it was nothing and people sometimes call you a thief—when you do it, they say you did it, and when you don’t, they still say you did. If someone calls you a thief, just ignore them, because you are not one. I told him that I understood, but I have feelings. He told me that I shouldn’t have left while he was not there. I know I made that mistake and I should not have left during his absence. I apologized to him. We’re not enemies. When I see him, I greet him. And I still go to that church. The person who accused me is still there. When I see her I always say hi, even if she answers with hypocrisy. When church is over, I just go back to the street.

THEY HELP IN THE WAY THEY CAN

It isn’t easy for me to earn money, because I don’t have any profession. Now I work in people’s homes. It’s a job that is often full of humiliation. Sometimes people curse you. They look down on you because you are working at their house. They want you to know that you are not from their class. Sometimes you cook for them and they don’t even give you food. But what I like about working at people’s houses is doing laundry. It’s hard, but after you’re done the person pays you and you leave. When you’re doing laundry, people don’t find the time to insult you.

Now I’m struggling to finish with school. I’m in the junior year of public high school. One year left. The teachers don’t know about how I live, my struggles, my private life. Only the students who sit next to me know. Some of them give me money, others give me food. Sometimes they even bring me clothes. They help in the way they can but they can’t do much because they are living with their parents. But I always have good grades. I will find a way to pay for university. I’m ready to fight. I want to learn administrative sciences and find a job.

The fun times I have are when my school is having activities. One time, my school organized a trip to the beach. I enjoyed swimming with the girls. I felt so alive, because the girls welcomed me in a very good way. They brought food, fruits, things that I never eat.

My dream is to have a family. Not only to have a family but to find the right person. But eventually he will ask to see my mother and father. That’s where the problem always starts. I have no family to speak of. I wouldn’t like my children to go through the same things I went through. And if I do have kids, who is going to look after them while I am working? I think about these things. I don’t want my kids to live worse than I did. These are the things that keep me from having a family. I hope that one day all the sadness will be gone.