Love, Anger, Madness

“It’s out of grief,” he said. “He’s gone mad over Jacques’ death.”

“Our Father who art in heaven,” Andre began to recite, “thy will be done…”

Book Two

A crowd gathers around us. Simon, astride my legs, holds me firmly by the shoulders, while Andre, kneeling, watches me with his arms crossed. Leaning over me, Simon says to me in hushed tones:

“God almighty God almighty God!” he says. “What possessed you to start screaming like that? What with the men on patrol from Port-au-Prince, what’s going to come down on us now? Calm down, old friend! You’re about to faint, that’s what brought you to this, grief too, and all that clairin. Get a grip! You’re going to need your wits about you. Reach out to your loas, call on your God, but let’s get out of this mess.”

THE PRIEST (clearing a path for himself in the crowd with great difficulty): Excuse me, excuse me, please. I know these boys, excuse me, please.

SOMEONE IN THE CROWD: Let Father Angelo through!

ONE OF THE PEOPLE: He is possessed by his loas, that’s all. Father Angelo can’t help him.

SOMEONE: He’s going to exorcise him! It’s a simple case of demonic possession. Looks like they’d locked themselves in for eight days. Ugh, that dead dog over there stinks!

SOMEONE: Look! Father Angelo can’t control him either. He’s rabid. He’s going to smash his own head open. Oh, here come the police!

THE COMMANDANT: What’s going on? I heard screaming all the way from the prison. What’s going on? Where are the witnesses? The crowd backs away.

THE COMMANDANT: Nobody move! The crowd freezes.

THE COMMANDANT: Step aside, step aside but don’t go anywhere. Make room for the police. Hey, get back here! Stand right there. I’ve got a bullet for the first one who tries to run. Make way for the police, make way! Father Angelo, get up! And you too, white man! He leans down and sniffs at a broken bottle.

THE COMMANDANT: Molotov cocktails! Adjutant, notify the patrol! I’ve uncovered a plot! Nobody move, God damn it! Father Angelo, get up! You too, white trash!

M. POTENTAT (to an unsavory individual listening to him a little too closely, an obvious spy): Here comes the patrol. My God! Just my luck getting mixed up with this crowd. My, they reek, these beggars. And this dead dog crawling with worms is making me sick! And now I may get caught up in this damn plot nonsense.

THE INDIVIDUAL: You seem a bit nervous, Monsieur Potentat!

M. POTENTAT: Me? Nervous? And, pray tell, why should I be nervous?

THE INDIVIDUAL: Stay where you are, Monsieur Potentat! This is a serious matter.

M. POTENTAT: What insolence! Don’t you dare take that tone with me or you’ll regret it!

THE INDIVIDUAL: Me, I’ve got nothing to lose: no house, no wealth. So I can take this all the way.

M. POTENTAT: Oh, come now! Take it easy. There, take this money and keep your mouth shut.

A ONE-ARMED BEGGAR: There goes my day! Why are they asking me to stick around? I’m just a wretch begging on the roads.

A ONE-LEGGED BEGGAR: We should have stayed on the church porch.

A BEGGAR (with both legs amputated, crawling): Excuse me, good people, excuse me. You others, why don’t you crawl and get out of this crowd here?

A BLIND BEGGAR: And get myself crushed? No thank you.

THE COMMANDANT: You beggars over there, settle down and stay right where you are. Hey you there, creepy-crawly! Not another move or I shoot!

SOMEONE (standing in his way): Will you stop, beggar? Or you’ll make cripples of all of us!

PATROL MEMBER: Well, Commandant, have you laid hands on the conspirators?

THE COMMANDANT (strutting): I’ve been watching this shack for eight days.

PATROL MEMBER: Who lives here?

MARCIA: The man on the ground does. The one who’s possessed. He hasn’t opened his door in eight days.

THE COMMANDANT: Who said that? Where’s the witness? Step forward.

MARCIA: NO, no, I didn’t say anything. I don’t know anything.

THE COMMANDANT: Take her into custody!

MARCIA: NO, no, no, I didn’t say anything. I don’t know anything. Help! Mademoiselle Cecile, they’re arresting me! Let me go, I haven’t done anything. Let me go!

CECILE: She’s my maid, Commandant, and I can vouch for her.

PATROL MEMBER: Take her into custody too.

CECILE: Father, say something!

THE PRIEST: Commandant, consider what you’re about to do! Mademoiselle Magistral is a young woman from a respectable family; her father was one of the most notable figures in the province.

THE COMMANDANT: Father, time is of the essence. We are faced with a plot against the security of the State. Public order has been compromised. We must question the witnesses. Where is the prefect? Where is the mayor?

SOMEONE: Nobody knows.

A BEGGAR (to another): They must be hiding somewhere.

PATROL MEMBER: Someone go get the prefect and the mayor. Commandant, why don’t you dispatch your warrant officer. He knows their habits better than we do.

THE COMMANDANT: Make it happen, Adjutant.

THE ADJUTANT: Yes, Commandant, sir.

CECILE: FATHER, I want nothing to do with the police. Father!

THE PRIEST: You must bow before the holy will of God, my daughter, and wait for the prefect to come. He alone will be able to help you.

PATROL MEMBER (to another in a low voice): She’s fine-looking! I’ll take real good care of her in prison.

THE COMMANDANT: Go on! Move along! Let the prisoners through. He fires two shots in the air and the crowd immediately disperses, running.

SIMON (to me): Get up, old friend. They’re taking us to prison.

PATROL MEMBER (jamming a few kicks into my ribs): Get up, mulatto bastard!

SIMON (to me): Try to get up. Hold on to your old buddy.

PATROL MEMBER (pushing Andre and hitting him in the face): Didn’t you hear me? You, let’s go, start walking!

CECILE: Somebody tell my mother. She’s sick in bed. Somebody tell her. Somebody take care of her. Father Angelo, I leave her in your hands.

THE PRIEST: You can count on me, my child. Courage! You too, my little ones. (Blessing them) Go in peace!

SIMON: Oh, Father! spare us your blessings and instead tell them to give us food and drink before the interrogation. Look at them, Father. These two can barely stand. They’ve had nothing but clairin for eight days.

THE PRIEST: Why?

SIMON: They didn’t dare come out on account of the devils.

THE PRIEST: What devils?

SIMON: The ones that have invaded the town.