I Am H.A.I.T.I.

In this image made available by the American Red Cross in London, Wednesday Jan. 13, 2010, a young earthquake survivor is given first aid in a shanty town on the outskirts of Port au Prince, following a major earthquake in Haiti, Tuesday Jan. 12, 2010. Haitians piled bodies along the devastated streets of their capital Wednesday after the strongest earthquake to hit the poor Caribbean nation in more than 200 years crushed thousands of structures, from schools and shacks to the National Palace and the U.N. peacekeeping headquarters. Untold numbers were still trapped.
(AP Photo/Matt Marek/American Red Cross, ho)

Help Haiti: 

http://www.yele.org/

I am H.A.I.T.I.

Unbowed and unconquered since the time when my son François-Dominique Toussaint L’ouverture defeated a French colonial power. I was Adwa before Adwa. I gave hope to millions of enslaved brothers and sisters from Africa. I am H.A.I.T.I., I have been punished ever since by the Western world. Exploited for my raw resources, corruption tolerated and in most instances perpetuated by outside influences so that I can always be destabilized.

I am H.A.I.T.I.

I have been deemed a third world country. Tourists come from the west to appreciate my natural beauty, while disregarding the abject poverty as they drive from the airport to their luxury hotels as quickly as possible. My neighbor and I (Dominican Republic) are popular destination for would be bachelors. They come and stay in my villas, and I being so poor I prostitute my daughters to quench the loins of these soon to be married men. My sons are their porters, carrying their bags and speaking broken English and tap dancing to their desires so that they can feed their seed.

I am H.A.I.T.I.

My natural resources are taken from me, forced to sell my sugar, concrete, timber,and flaxseed oil for a penny on the dollar. I am H.A.I.T.I., my net export last year was $498 million dollars, mega tons of my resources shipped off to the western world. Those raw resources translate into billions of dollars once they are turned into finished goods. I am H.A.I.T.I, see I am still colonized.

I am H.A.I.T.I.

No one pays attention to me. Everyday, the equivalent of Katrina happens on the streets of Port au Prince. My sons and daughters die by the thousands on a monthly basis, the byproduct of desperation, drugs, and violence turned against me by my sons and daughters. I am H.A.I.T.I., my children die from the scourge of malnutrition as I watch my kids drink from infested pools of dirty water.

I am H.A.I.T.I.

The only time the world cares about me is when I rise up and bury my own children, when I eviscerate my offspring. I am H.A.I.T.I., you pay attention to me when my children are entombed by the shoddy concrete that is left over for me to house my family while the grade concrete is shipped off to Western cities and suburbs. I am H.A.I.T.I., you now cry for me, when usually you don’t give a shit about me.

I am H.A.I.T.I.

I don’t want your fucking pity. Thank you for the $5.00 you send me through your cell phone. But really, how about you give me a fair price on my natural resources. I am H.A.I.T.I., I don’t want your charity, I just want the dignity to provide for my own sons and daughters. I am H.A.I.T.I., keep your IMF and World Bank money, money you give me with strings attached that keep me in bondage. I am H.A.I.T.I., I don’t need prayers from DEVILS like Pat Robertson. I am H.A.I.T.I., you see me crying black tears of oppression and dejection on your HD TV.

I am H.A.I.T.I.

All I ask is that you stop raping my natural resources. I am H.A.I.T.I, I don’t want the crumbs you provide, give me the ability to make my own pie. I am H.A.I.T.I., thanks for the rice you drop from the sky for me, but really, instead of $498 million you give me for my natural resources, how about you pay a fair price and instead offer me $5 billion for my exports. That way, I can build my own rice fields, I can have my own emergency services, I can build my own houses and schools with grade A concrete so when there is another earthquake, my children won’t perish in the process.

I am H.A.I.T.I.

I guess I should be grateful for the millions you just gave me in AID, while you profited from me by the billions last year alone. I am H.A.I.T.I., thank you for your charity, but really, how about you just give me my dignity so that I can care for my own sons and daughters.