A problem with the saying…
Zafè mouton pa zafè kabrit. There was a time when many Haitians repeated this saying, either out of ignorance or pure selfishness, until reality brutally caught up with them. They believed that the evil that was eating away at certain places in the country was specific only to the residents of these said places, and that it could not, in any case, extend to their doors. Haïti has a history that has been inscribed in the annals of union, in its purest form. Unity is therefore an inseparable element of Haitian identity. This is why, in order to maintain the coherence that lays the foundations of its history and preserve its identity, Haïti cannot rid itself of its demons as long as its people refuse to recognize the sacred quintessence of the act of solidarity. This problem of saying, when it becomes a societal problem, draws its entire explanation from another equally popular saying: sa w plante se li w ap rekòlte. Unfortunately, in the slums of the city, the corners of the city, the corridors of the shanty towns, the streets of the working-class neighborhoods, those who reap the storm had never had to deal with the wind. Because their horizon was only a vaulted and gray sky, above a crenellated sea where not the slightest breeze blew. A picture of deadly boredom. The "Haitian Yakuza" was unaware that his destiny was decided in large, obscure meetings. Men without a soul decided their fate through embezzlement and an unbridled love for power and blood. Machiavellian plans were orchestrated while the Haitian Yakuza lived in total indifference to the danger that awaited him. He was unaware of his misfortune, and did not see it coming. Thus, this abstract being without any rights would become, without knowing it, the essential pillar of the power of these abject beings without faith or law. Now it was them, as soon as the powder was lit, the inveterate criminals, the guilty, the bloodthirsty who had to be destroyed at all costs. But yes, at what price?
