I have never been so easily identifiable by my skin color before. For the children in Limbé, Haiti, I am a female and my name is “Blan” (White).
The first time I left the hospital grounds to hike up Limbé’s large hill with the surgery team visiting at the time, the village sort of splattered in my face when I stepped outside the gate. Chickens running along the side of the road caught my attention for a second until a truck carrying too many people for its overworked wheels, whizzed by, close enough to raise my arm hair, disrupting dust and rocks in the pothole scattered road. Next, my eyes stuck on a woman trotting down the street with a huge basket full of mangos resting on her head.
Once I had acclimated to the city’s bustle and filth, I felt a small presence around me—little brown eyes were staring at my face, my hair, my green Keen’s, my white shirt, and my black shorts. Breathless, open-eyed silence.
A tiny barefoot girl in a soiled pink dress broke the silence with her bird chirp voice, squealing, “Blan!” (White)
There were a few seconds of silence after but it was my turn to end those. I spread the smile that little girl inspired in me as wide as my lips would allow and said, “Bonswa tifi.” (Hello little girl)
She giggled and ran over, grabbed my hand, turned it around in hers to examine the skin, and then skipped her tiny dusty body closer to me. The other children followed.
“Blan, Blan!” They yelled, “Fe Foto,” (Take a picture!) “Ba mwen mange-a,” (Give me food)“Bam’ jouet!” (Give me toys!) They also demonstrated the influence of western culture by saying the only English phrases they knew, “It me babay one mo tie!” “I luff you babay!” “Touch ma body”
I felt like I was taking a 1st grade classroom on a fieldtrip and they had decided to bring all their younger siblings along. A little boy whose head barely reached above my knee was trotting along taking big steps with his baby sister on his back.
One by one, I tried to learn the children’s names as they crowded around holding my hands and my clothing. I said, “Rele mwen Sara.” (My name is Sara). One of the boys giggled, “Sara Blan!” (White Sara) and that became my name for the rest of the hike.
(Ti Moun literally translates to "Little People," but it means children.)
