Lucy and her cousin playing in a hammack

At 5 am the night sky drapes over the cane, a heavy blanket covering the land. All is dark and all is quiet, as even the roosters have ceased to sing to the star laced sky. The stray dogs, scavengers of the night, are curled up under abandoned pieces of zinc, hoping to catch an hour of shuteye before the bustle of the day begins and the fight for survival continues. The night is always darkest before the dawn and all is calm before the storm.

 At 5 am dear sweet Lucy should be fast asleep next to her 6-month pregnant mother. Myra is her name. Her mother’s so called husband should be out guarding the equipment owned by the sugar cane company, the equipment that ensures the enslavement of hundreds of cane workers every day. But alas, even though the roosters and stray dogs have subsided to the night and everything is where it should be, the same cannot be said about the small world in which little Lucy lives in.

Kiko stumbles into the cement and zinc house, nearly dead drunk, and looking for a fight. He lost a large sum of money to a local hustler and is out for revenge. Myra, a 20-year-old Haitian woman, is so exhausted from hauling water the day before up from the river and caring for a two year old, that she did not even stir as he violently forced his way into the shack. Lucy, on the other hand, awoke at once. She could sense that something was not right.

Kiko surveyed the nearly empty room, searching desperately for a tangible reason for his anger, something to place the blame on. All he saw in the barren room was a broken plastic chair, some fire wood and a pile of dirty laundry.

 “The dirty laundry. That good for nothing…why do I even have her around? What does she do all day?” His anger began to boil as Myra continued to sleep the sleep of the nearly dead. With no hopes other then to make it through today, so she can lay her head down to rest one more time. Lucy began to stir, sensing, like most young children, the impending storm.

The electric wire that connects Las Pajas to the 21st century burned down a week ago, leaving the community without any power. An electric pump powers the water system that pulls water from the ground into the aqueduct and then pumps it into the 216 houses tin roof houses. This means that Lucy and her mother along with 1,115 other souls have been without running water and electricity for a week. Times are getting desperate and an already difficult life is getting more so. Laundry is on the bottom of Myra’s list of priorities as she is constantly on the search for water to cook and bath with.

Kiko angrily entered the room where Myra and Lucy lay curled together on a lone mattress. He pulled Myra out of her dreamless sleep by the hair and began to yell about the laundry. Lucy began to cry. Myra is not one to take abuse, and even though he could overpower her, she fought back. She began swinging her arms and yelling in Creole at the top of her lungs. Her disobedience only made Kiko’s anger grow. He threw her down on the ground and surveyed the room for something that he could use to shut her up.

Sweet little Lucy, bearing witness to this fight, saw the anger in her mother’s eyes and the hate in Kikos. She began to yell in the language of a bilingual 2 year old; an incoherent jumble of Spanish and Creole. She got in between her mother and the drunken oppressor and shook her finger violently. Yelling at him to stop, confident in her ability to put her world back in order.

But Kiko could not hear or see her. Blinded by rage and unable to locate a useful tool to solve his problem of a stubborn female, he advanced towards Myra, armed with his fists. Lucy continued to lecture and scream as her little finger waved violently in the air. Kiko raised his hand to bring his wrath down on Myra but instead found his hand shoving little Lucy down.

Lucy fell, the mark of a hand imprinted on her dark cheek, and hit her head on the corner of a broken, iron table. She began to cry and Myra located an iron bar that laid next to the bed and attacked Kiko with it, shoving him out of the room.

Kiko, realizing what he had done to poor Lucy, retreated in shame. Myra screamed at the top of her longs and the neighbors began gathering outside of the house, curious to see what the excitement was all about. As the sun rose over the cane fields and the roosters began to sing the morning song, Lucy continued to cry.

Kiko stood outside of his house and Myra advanced on him with the iron bar. Everyone watched as Myra hit him repeatedly in the legs. The women of the batey ran forward as Kiko began to curse Myra and call her crazy. Claiming he had no idea why she was so angry.

The woman entered the house silently, one by one, picked up the mattress and packed up Myra’s few belongings, and marched silently up to an abandoned tin shack up the street. Lucy followed, the last in the line. Wearing her black eye for all to see. Her medal of honor, her badge of courage. The sun began to dry her tear stained cheeks, but the mark would remain.

Lucy has a black eye. Her future is uncertain. As her mother attempts to put the new home in order and look for food to feed her small family, Lucy plays quietly in the street. Attempting to tell her story in her incoherent babble. She is hungry and she is tired. But for the time being, she is safe. And that is all a little girl can really hope for.

Reading and Writing with Lucy and her older cousin Esperanza

***Based on a real event that occurred on Las Pajas one December morning.***

Violence against women is not rare and the causalities are countless. Domestic violence is common and often hidden. DV is blind to gender, race, sexual orientation and social class. If you or someone you know is currently suffering from DV, please seek support. You are not alone.