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My partner took me to the theater tonight. It was a piece on Haiti, played by three guys: one French, one Canadian, and one Haitian. A work in progress really, on a very humble scene, with a handful of spectators.
From the beginning, it was clear the Haitian guy was by far the better actor. His presence was soothing and entertaining, his range was quite impressive, and his lines, which he clearly wrote himself (only a Haitian can write like that) were a smooth poetry.
The piece was personal, and he confided he'd left his home last year because he feared for his life, because of the gangsters who control the country. And y'all, not a new story to me. My partner's former student was forced to do the same, along with much of his extended family. His dad long resisted the exodus; he'd call him to say: "If they kidnap me, don't pay!" Another friend had a sister whose law firm had been assaulted with gunfire twice; she managed to flee both times.
I wouldn't be surprised if this guy was a very accomplished actor back home. I wouldn't have had a chance to see him play if it wasn't for the crisis in Haiti. It's a kind of encounter that makes me feel both grateful and embarrassed. Haiti's talent shines on this frozen land of ours, but it also means she's bleeding her talent.
These brilliant intellectuals that do so much for us, who already have so much, and who stood by when France exacted its revenge, will they come back home when it is secure again? All of that seems so unfair.