Through the papers, TV channels, radios and even by word of mouth.
I have been to Haiti.
I have been to Haiti, that land of proud Africans, in my dreams.
Rotting bodies struggling to rise amidst wafts of smells.
I have seen little children, frightened, in pain, alone, afraid to trust.
I have seen mothers with despair in their eyes; they have lost everything.
I have seen young people, angry, lonely and frightened, even violent.
I have seen fathers, hopelessly helpless, leave their homes to strangers to do as they please
Then I have seen the outpouring of support from the global community of nations.
And I have said to myself: Haiti will rise again!
But the cameras are yet shining their light on the world.
What will happen when their light goes dim?
I flew over Haiti in my dreams.
I saw the devastation by the earthquake of the city, and the villages.
But I also saw the devastation of Haiti by man
Haiti is denuded and brown; her neighbor is green and welcoming.
Then as we were flying off, I saw a crowd of people planting trees with a small man as their leader.
In another corner, I saw another group, planting Haiti's African rice, with another small man as their leader.
In yet another corner, I saw a small woman surrounded by mothers and their children, learning the national tongue.
And in yet another corner, I saw another small man calling to everybody.
They were coming from the hills, the valleys, the towns, and the villages.
They were all coming to eat.
Then I said to myself: Haiti will rise again.
Haiti must grow again the African rice she has thrived on for 200 years.
Haiti, the world's first Black nation must rise again, so that Africa can rise.
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