Sometimes as I lay in bed, trying to sleep, thoughts of the earthquake rush back to me. The night of the quake. The 40 seconds the earth shook. The long, sleepless nights following. The crazy weeks after that. The things I saw and experienced. I try to clear my head. I try to stop thinking about it. I try to force myself to sleep. But it doesn't work. Sometimes, I can't stop the memories and thoughts unfolding in my mind.
A few weeks ago, I was thinking about how the earthquake made us all equal. Although we tell ourselves that "everyone is equal"... that's not really the case. Sure, maybe we were created to be equal and we should be equals... but life's not fair. There are rich people in Haiti who have never even looked to see the poverty. Even besides class and social status, there are things that make the people living there different. But not on that night. The earthquake didn't care who you were. Sure, the wealthy might have had an advantage of nicer homes. But even that didn't matter all that much. The Carribean Market collapsed. Hotel Montana fell. The Palace crumbled. That experience made us all the same. At least for a little while. A boujwa (Creole word for the French- bourgeois, to describe the wealthy) was no longer a boujwa. A blan (white person) was no longer a blan. Black people died. White people died. Rich people died. And poor people died. No one was above being affected by the earthquake. We were all the same that night.
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