We killed Makindi. He was a warrior. He fought. He fought every day. He faced obstacles. He resisted. He agreed that nothing and no one could stop him from living in his home, in his country. But we have, once again, killed hope. We ate a new life. We have destroyed a beautiful future. We have taken the life of a Warrior.
He leaves behind a wife and two children. Two little girls who nurtured the promise of a wonderful, loving father. A wife who worked alongside her beloved husband every day, on whom she was gambling the future. How to make her accept this condition? How can she explain to her daughters that their father is dead and that he loved Haiti, he wanted to work there, to be of service to his country, but that he died there? We are walking a dark path. We are engaged in macabre alleys. We wash our hands in the blood that we drink drop by drop. And our humanity is withering away.
My heart is sobbing. But I don’t want to believe that Makindi Guerrier is really dead. I watch him smile again. I watch him laugh. I watch him give directions. I hear him telling his people what to do in this case or in that situation. Makindi Guerrier, very young, very humble, doesn’t tell you that he is a great dentist. You see for yourself that he is a great dentist and that there is much more to look forward to with him.
Makindi Warrior treats you and apologizes if he sees you feigning pain. He is concerned with perfection and dreams of a more just society. He treats you with or without money. The human person is his priority. How many doctors do we know like him? How many Haitians do we know like him? Very few! Very few! But, all this, could not allow him to survive death. His only fault: being Haitian and living in Haiti.
What people, what society does not do everything to protect these values, these skills? What country would not be proud to have such a prodigious son as Makindi Guerrier?
Let us look around us, are we even aware of what is happening to us! Who will say that he is not responsible? Who will say that he is not guilty? Not me. Because I feel a huge responsibility for this descent into hell of the country, for this degeneration of society, for the death of Diego, of Netty, of many others before and after them, but even more so for that of Makindi Guerrier. You will probably say that you are not the state, that it is not your role to change things, to restore security, to exterminate the bandits who took the life of Makindi Guerrier and many others. You will probably say that you have done your best, that you have written books, texts, you have spoken behind your microphone, on the radio, on television, on social networks to say that things must change. You will say that you have been president, minister, director general, that you have done what was necessary, that you have helped people.
You will probably say that you have realized many projects, you have allowed children to go to school, you have distributed your money to those in need, you have taken care of entire families. You will say again that you were a rebel in the past, but that you are disillusioned now, that you are tired, that you have fought too much for a change but that the years pass and our situations get worse.
You will say again and again. And it will all sound good.
If not that our ills persist and that the problem is perpetuated.
We still have neophytes in power groping the country with tied hands and feet, mired in shit, lies and conspiracy against you and me.
They sell our dreams, our aspirations and kill skills.
You don’t move and you let uncultured people emerge in all spheres of society, of political power, everywhere.
You watch in the silence of the actions that the most unjust laws, that the most insane decisions, settle in the bosom of corruption, the absolute evil of this society.
The conditions of the people never change when they are made of women and men so cowardly, so fearful and so careless.
Isn’t all that matters to you your personal comfort? Would you risk your life in a real revolt? Are you ready to fight? Are you ready to defy our Mudbloods?
I am a coward. Otherwise, I would already be in front of the National Palace, the Prime Minister’s Office, the private residence of Ariel Henry, all his ministers and his allies to demand justice for Makindi Guerrier, for Diego, for Netty and all the others.