During those trips, PAP streets, which were usually bustling during the daytime, were eerily empty by 8pm. We were usually home by 6pm and I don't remember ever staying up past 9! My most vivid memory of those visits was driving down Delmas 31 early one morning and running into curious onlookers who were hunched over the bodies of two zenglendos who were killed earlier that morning by local police during a failed street merchant robbery. These were the first glimpses I had of my beloved Haiti.

One of the many political posters put up in late 2000

What a stark contrast all of this was to my most recent trip! The Airport Road (Rout Aeopò), which had been under construction for so long, had made dramatic progress. Substantial portions were well paved, and even had traffic lights that people were actually stopping for! I routinely hung out with friends until 3 or 4am at well attended Petionville bars and clubs like "Limelight" on Rout Frer. The "Lavil" area around Champs de Mars and the National Palace had been recently renovated and proudly displayed well trimmed grass and comfortable benches. I also rented a SUV and, this time, my friend had no problem with me coming and going as I pleased. Best of all, zenglendos were nowhere to be found due to the government's Zero Tolerance policies. Haitians in general seemed more relaxed than during my previous trips.

On my last day,I caught a flat while driving up Route Delmas (getting a flat has been a mandatory event during every trip I have ever taken to Haiti.) It was a Saturday night, and although many people were around, I rolled up my sleeves and decided to fix the flat myself. I quickly caught the attention of two of the many Haitian street kids who are locally known as "kokorat". They can often be seen begging for change from motorists or trying to clean windshields during the intense daily traffic jams (blokus) of Port-Au Prince's main arteries.

One of Delmas many street kids (kokorat)

As I changed my tires, I asked these kids to keep an eye on my tools for me. They happily complied, and gave me tips on how to make my job a little easier. As I completed the job, one of them showed concern over the fact that I had gotten dirty. I thought it was ironic since he, through no fault of his own, was absolutely filthy. I told him that it was no big deal and that I would wash up when I got back to the house. When I finished, I asked them a little about themselves. They were brothers and were named Johnny and Jethro. Their eyes were yellow and their clothes were tattered beyond belief. When I asked them where they lived, they simply answered "We're always around here (Nou toujou la.)" They said their mother had passed away and that they hadn't seen their father in over 3 years.

Although they hadn't actually helped me much, I felt compelled to give each of them $10 US dollars. When they took the bills from me, their eyes grew very large. They compared each other's bills and flipped them back and forth in order to make sure they were real. When they were convinced that all of this was true and I wasn't playing some cruel trick, they spent three minutes thanking me profusely. They eventually asked me if they could come live with me where I live. It broke my heart to tell them that I lived in New York and was only in Haiti for a short time. When I said this, the disappointment in their faces was all too apparent. As I hopped back into my rental I wished them good luck and told them I'd be looking for them the next time I was in town. They thanked me once again and I drove off. I will never forget he faces of those two "kokorat"s.