Fabienne Sylvia Josaphat
(Part I available here)
My mother’s eggs were always a bright yellow, cooked with semiripe hot peppers and served with a side of boiled plantain and fresh avocado. The air was heavy with the smell of food early in the morning, and although we were ready to fall asleep afterwards, Emmanuel wanted to play. I gladly indulged him. Racing our toy cars down the street was always an adventure, since we had to watch out for incoming vehicles. Every so often, a truck honked from a distance, overflowing with a load of passengers who clung to the railings and racks for dear life. Sometimes they were laden with enormous sacks of charcoal, plantain, mangoes, and sugarcane. And sometimes, they were brimming with clothes and shoes to be sold in another town. Driving those trucks was an amazing feat Emmanuel and I both wished to accomplish one day, swerving abruptly to avoid pot holes and bumps in the road, and braking suddenly at a stop.