A beautiful chaos

Sitting behind the wheel, I can’t help myself from taking  a look around me. The city that I thought I knew so well, suddenly seemed so unfamiliar, so…new. It’s is like, for the fist time, I truly took the time to witness the details of everything happening in the streets. Life has this weird way of capturing your attention, making you stop what you are doing and realize that there is beauty in the ugliest things. Like I always say, if we take some time to breathe, we will realize that life is perfect in all of its imperfections.

So here I was, sitting behind the wheel, driving back home after a long day. The first thing I noticed were the colours. Sunsets have a way of creating magic in Port-au-Prince. It’s like, when the sun says goodbye to the city, it makes a royal exit with an explosion of pink, yellow and orange. The world is indeed a beautiful place. Looking to my left, I see a mother walking with her child. He is so small that he can barely touch her knee. With his little uniform he holds her hand to walk back home. A little further I can see the ladies still selling fruits. They wake up early and go to bed late. I guess that this country really gives birth to some of the strongest women. Fanm vanyan is what we call them here. I see people discussing in the streets, they stand there like cars can’t hit them. Another characteristic that we all hate but that can bring a smile to ours faces if we take the time to appreciate it. I also notice the man selling used school books on the sidewalk. I observe the girls doing their hair in front of their house. I can’t keep myself from smiling because these people seem to be so happy while they don’t necessarily have all the comfort in the world. I see a shoe store in the trunk of an old car. I see the cops trying to make the traffic ‘easier’.

Stuck in the blokus, in the middle of all the noise, all the honking, all the people walking in all directions, I get overwhelmed by how beautiful and chaotic all of this is. It is at that moment that I think that it’s been a while since I had some fresko or some street pen bòbòt. All of a sudden, I feel like I am not embracing it enough, my country, my reality. I seek in vain for a papita seller but it seems like at this time, they are nowhere to be found. So I have to shut my boiling stomach and keep enjoying the view. How can a mess be so beautiful? Or at least how can I find it so beautiful. There is nothing pretty or organized about it but it seems that all of these imperfections work perfectly together to create what I call: A beautiful chaos.