Month: May 2015


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In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “A Mystery Wrapped in an Enigma.”


The word “interview” does not rhymes well with my senses. In fact, I get an allergic reaction, whenever I’m forced to travel through that intersection. Although I do understand this is a necessary process, but I can’t help it. I don’t know how to place my best foot forward. I always feel like saying: “Hey! You want me? Here I am! I’m a workaholic, and I have no time for game, or hypocrisy.”

Honestly, I have a phobia when it comes to talking to strangers. Yes, strangers tend to trigger my panic mode, no matter how friendly they appear to be. Therefore, sitting in a room filled with bullies, ready to intersect me, is not my ideal gourmet food.

The word interview itself makes me feel as if I’m willfully consenting for the oposing party to “Enter/ invade my soul, and my personal space.” My thought then? Rrrrrrrrrrrr, you are too close to me stranger! Just because you possibly hold the key to my financial survival, should not give you the right to “View” me this close.”

Don’t you agree with me? And, strangely enough, this “ENTER & VIEW” process is really a one way street, contrary to what they wish us to beliebe.

How often they try to glaze us with some delicious peach confifute? You know, That’s when they  pleasant hold their hands together, and smile as they ask us the following:

“Ok. So, do you have any question?”

Piece of crap! This is just the way to lure us into believing an open door policy is possibly active.” But the fact is, it’s because they arefully  aware of all the boogyman still dancing boolala inside their office closets. As a matter of facts, while a clear signal is duly expected of us, about them? Yes,  if I’m a perfect fit for your company; how likely would you  reveal to me the dirty facts about your company ahead of time, as you expect of me?

No, you would never warn me  how from my first day I’m prone to mingle my soul with some of the creepiest characters. You know, the eying citic type!

“Wow, well-com’mm! I like your hair style girl!” Than trun around to whisper, “The 60’s era, wow!”

Yes. About the Saint who pride herself in defaming other’s character.

“How dare you, I never lie.” She said. Yet, she’ll be the first peson to create a new hot for another empoyee to wear unknowingly.

Then, we have the deceptive creep, disguising herself as angel of light, when in fact she’s the mother of harlot, who hold a masters degree in hypocrisy. Yes, she specializes in torture. And, she is so good at what she does, your employees would look forward to a transfer to hell, rather to continue their employment with your company.

 NO, I’M NOT DONE YET! About that one gossiper with a sensor recording machine wired in her belt, what measures have you explored in order to chop off her venom tongue? Or, the control freak in charge of your book camp, referred to as “Hitler’s ground. Have you addressed all the complaints against her?

Lastly, will I have to work my “butt off” in order to earn a promotion? Or do you truly value a genuine indispensable employee?

Yes, I know. I do come across like a bulldozer. But, what can I say?

“Years of experience!”





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In Proverbs 21, King Solomon gave us a few warnings against a “contentious woman.” 

 “Better to dwell in a corner of a housetop, than in a house shared with a contentious woman. Proverbs 21:9

“Better to dwell in the wilderness, than with a contentious and angry woman.” Proverbs 21:19

Many of you may not be aware but, King Solomon had 700 wives, and 300 concubines. YES, HE DID!

Now, would you agree that his warnings should be taken seriously? “Hell yes!” The man had the option to sleep with a different woman every night for two consecutive years, plus 270 days remained. I have a strong feeling, King Solomon did not believe in the word “recycle.”

Could you imagine how many mood swings he had to deal with, hen? The king had ONE THOUSAND (1000) women who required his attention in the “bed” alone. What was he expecting? Of course the women are going to be contentious.

So, when he wrote the first verse, (Proverbs 21:9) he had to spend the night at “the corner of the housetop.” Would you call that pleasurable? The king had to go and hide! Yes, he was speaking about “his own drama.”

I think this “contentious woman” issue was probably more of a shameful matter for the king. Perhaps the women were angry after a final encounter in bed. Imagined when he finally sent a request for the last woman to join him in his bedroom.  By the following morning, she probably was venting by saying: “Are you for real? That’s it? I had to wait for 1000 days for this!”

Did you noticed how in the second verse, where “He had to run and HIDE IN THE WILDERNESS?” Oh my God! You talking about hot steam? Don’t you think that’s what he was saying? “He would rather suffer the heat from the wilderness, than alllllll those women in heat”.

Dear King Solomon! I Hope you learned your lesson.


Question: What does “Contentious” means?

Answer: Causing or likely to cause an argument; controversial.


So now you see what I mean?


P.S. Check out My Daily Proverbs page! Wisdom and Humor combined.

“ShowTime” At Mellie’s

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Whenever I visit Mellie, I can tell how quickly she will be ready to grab my purse, and hand it over to me. Sometimes, she will even start opening the door for me; while she tells me “I will walk with you to the car.” That’s her way of telling me, “She wants to be left alone. But there are times when it’s the opposite, as she often wished for me to  spend the night with her. But, she will never say it. So, the clever old lady has another tactic in order to get my attention, and convince me to remain in her company for the night. She will first start by sharing her latest pain diagnosed from her body, and gradually act as if she is losing her mind. Last weekend when I visited her, within a few seconds from my arrival, she started telling me how “her hair, nose, eyes, neck hands and fingers, were hurting her.” I was flattered when I realized she was just soliciting my company, which is a rare incident with her. I have to admit though, my thrill escalated when I noticed she was wearing one of her acting costume; I knew then, it was “Showtime” at Mellie’s house.

My mom is eighty three years old, therefore, I do understand she is prone to some illness; although her memory remains intact. There are times, from her body language, it is evident, she’s experiencing major joint discomfort. She was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis a while back. But after much observation, I had realized her nose would extend an inch or two longer, whenever she was exaggerating about her diagnosed. I would conclude, out of all “her fingers, nails, toes, and hair,” she claims are hurting her; it is possible, her genius brain was the heavy weight, the cause of her claimed discomfort.

So I spent Saturday night with her. And, by the time I woke up, she had “drunk her tea, prepared her Sunday meal, ate her fruits, had a cup of coffee, a cup of soup, washed my brother’s shirt and her underwear, (by hands) ironed her clothes, and dressed for church.. Don’t’ forget the face phone conversation in order to wake me up.” Yes, it was nearly EIGHT OCLOCK IN THE MORNING, when her phone conversation woke me up. And believe me, it was not an accident either. (You know what I mean?) My mom does not believe in letting the sunrise while she’s still in bed. “It will cause one to be lazy!” She always said. So after she was certain I was awakened, she said goody. And,  when she saw me walking toward the bathroom door, she said:  “Oh! You awaaaake! What do you want for breakfast? I have soume coffee, soume soup, soume bagerl, soume crème cheese…..? I gave her that “disbelief look”, since I could detect an amused tone in her voice. So with a hand gesture, I showed her “I was not kosher yet.” Immediately after I finished with my hygiene needs, I joined her in the kitchen, and greeted her, “good morning.” She turned toward me, answered back “Bonjour Madame!” With a nice smile. That’s when I noticed her face was already powdered, her silver hair tightly held back with a couple crystal hair pins. She had an unusual glow, which lead me to believe she was well rested. She was humming a gospel song. Silently, I looked at her with great contentment, and comfort, as I thought to myself: “If she was indeed sick last night, she must be feeling much better now.” An ease travelled through my mind, releasing me from all the doubts, of possibly losing her any time soon.

While she prepared me a cup of coffee, I comfortably sit on one of her high chair; a wood chair near the kitchen door, which was her favorite spot. As she was about to give me the cup of coffee, I felt the urge to ask her:  “How are you feeling this morning Mellie?” Had I known my mother was about to grace me with an Oscar winner performance, I would have rushed and grabbed my phone to capture that thrilling moment. The eighty three year old woman had suddenly stopped walking. While she refrained from giving me the cup of coffee, which she held in her right hand,. She slightly raised her head, gave me a vague look,  then raised her head above mine,  slowly turned her head to the right, than to the left, while her eyes starring through space. To top it all, afterward she raised one leg, and dropped it backward, as her whole body followed the same rhythm, leading me to believe she was about to fall, but immediately she withheld herself.  Then she looked at me, as if I was a total stranger, as she handed me the hot cup of coffee, she said: “You see, what just happened? I’m losing my memory. I completely forgot where I was.” Simultaneously, she placed her left hand on her right risk, while frowning her face to show me how much pain she was feeling there as well. “Oh mom!” I gasped with sympathy.  As soon as she noted the compassion on my tone of voice, she turned to look at me for a second, then started to walk toward her bedroom and grabed her shoes. She slightly raised her voice and said “By the way, don’t forget my orders.” “Which order?” I asked her. “I thought I told you I will need three dozen of patties by early next month to take to Boston with me. Have you forgotten?” “Oh!” I answered her. “You wanted three dozen of beef patties, right?” Knowing very well she had requested “two dozen of chicken, and one dozen of beef.” She yelled back at me, “No! I told you I wanted “ ‘deux” – “two” dozen of chicken, and “une”-“ one “dozen of beef. I’m leaving on the third of June. I told you why, didn’t I? Two of your cousins are graduating from nursing school. As I am the eldest remaining in the family, I have to be there. You don’t have to bake them, just give them to me frozen. The trip to Boston is only…………………………….I’ will be there for a week, I might decide to stay there for two…………………………………. You know those girls just came from Haiti, and now they are already graduating from college. They are my sister’s …………………………………”

“Mon, how are you feeling now?”

“Ouch! My back is killing me. Oh my God! My memory, my memory. Mmmm!”

A Divine Appointment

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“I promise to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth.” So this is my meditating experience moment.

On Tuesday afternoon, I entered the wrong classroom. I don’t know what happened that day, but for some reason I thought it was already Wednesday when I normally attend my script class. To my surprise, instead of my heavy set male Caucasian teacher, it was a beautiful older Indian decent lady, with a white outfit siting on the chair. Assuming she was an angel, I asked her: “Who are you?” Pleasantly she smiled, then answered me: “Hello! My name is Sheila, and I’m your teacher for the meditation class.” “Meditation? I replied. In the most soothing tone, she answered back. “Yes. We offer this class free of charge here.”

After I confirmed she was not an angel, we both concluded being stupid on my part, to have driven thirty minutes to a class on the wrong day, was probably “no coincidences.” That made me feel much better. So when I finally entered the class a few minutes later, immediately my attention was drawn to the tiny sparkles of red light being projected on the wall. So I thought to myself: “That’s a nice inspiration for my next painting!” Her soothing voice drew me back to reality when she said, “ Why don’t you have a sit? What’s your name?” I answered her, “My name is Nadège.” “Wow! She exclaimed. “Did you know your name was an Indian name?” I honestly felt like answering her “That’s a first!” But, in all honesty, who would not want to be identified with those Indian Goddess? Have you seen how gorgeous those women are? But I could not help the thought of my father, who once mentioned, that “our great…grand-mother, past infinity  time was Indian. I never really attempted to debate that conversation with him. Which, till this day, I’m convinced he was probably just trying to mold my husband into believing that, I did not cheat on him, when my daughter came out looking like a giant, with long curly hair, and dark skinned similar to an Indian. Taking into consideration, both I and my husband are African/Haitian with our hair so course, that even Brillo could not defeat us in a pot cleaning competition.  You know the metal made stuff one uses to scrub and clean the pots, after cooking for your in laws? So now, you can understand where I’m coming from.   No, I did not cheat on my husband. No, my daughter was not exchanged with another baby, while being in the hospital room. Now that she is older, I can honestly say I do see some common resemblance. Although it has to be during the full moon, and as long as I stand from a certain angle!!!

So, back to my story. I’m now occupying the center chair in the meditation classroom. I was told by Sheila “to ignore all the other tiny little lights being projected on the wall, but “to remain focus on that bright light Nadege, because as you focus on the center light, which is your soul, you are being drawn closer, and closer to your Creator.” After I heard that, I hurried up as I got up from the chair near the door, and rushed to sit on the chair right in the center of the class. Soon, the class was full of victims. Some were household occupants. I even heard them calling each other brother, and sister. “Great!” I thought. “Just what I needed. My father had twenty four children, and I still can’t even recall all their names. Do I need anymore brethren?”

Just about that time, Sheila continued: “Make yourself comfortable, and relax. Meditation is good for the souououl. It gives you inner peaeace. I nodded my head positively, in agreement with her. She smiled back at me, then said “It also gives you guidance, healing, and may contribute to world peace.” “Wow!” I thought to myself. “This is just what I needed!” By then, I was convince the universe itself summoned me to that class. “Yes! I’m here for a purpose. There are no coincidences!”

At last sheila said: “Which music do you guys want to start with today, “I have “Forever Happiness…? ……? “Before she could call out another title, like a child watching a Cinderella show in Walt Disney, I raised both my voice and my hand when I said:  “I want to hear the forever Happiness!” So everyone harmoniously agreed with my choice. I felt so relieved. At last, I found a common ground with many.

Then, the music started playing. That’s when I heard: “Ting! —————–Ting!                  —————Ting!” “What the hell?” I though to myself. Then after after about ten minutes, and all the “Ting” one can imagine hearing in one day, she placed another CD. It was a woman voice saying: “Imagine you are traveling, far, far, faaaaaar aaaawayayayay!”After the first sentence, while I was honestly still trying to focus on the center light, which I was told was my soul. With my eyes wide open, I was still expecting to feeeeel the experience. I kinda closed my eyes, a couple times, and took a few deep breath. Nothing happened. I even picked at the others to see how they were behaving, tried to mimic them, not a zilch.  After a few more minutes, I noted on their faces, the man called hypnotized was obviously either standing next to them, or currently interacting with them.  While I wondered why he did not pay me a visit as well, with his prejudice self? Up to that point,  I again heard another “Ting!———– Ting!” And the woman voice came back saying: “ Imagine you are floating….” That’s when  I saw Jesus running after me. But since he couldn’t keep up with me, he took his shoes off so he could catch up with me. But I eventually got tired of making him run so fast, since I’m after all a very compassionate person. So I stopped and turn toward Him, and said: “Lord, every time I see you running after me, you always have the same message for me “Go preach the gospel, heal the sick, raise the dead,  and you will never forsake me.” The Lord kindly answered me: “Yes. You are right. And you still have not answered my calling. However, this time I came to you in this dream to help you wake up! Because you are snoring so loud in this meditation class, you are disturbing the brethren.”  

So you understand my dilemma. Here I was, in the middle of a meditation class, and I was snoring so loud, that even God had to come down to wake me up . However, what He did not tell me was the fact that at the end of the cession, each person was supposed to delightfully express their experience.

The first person said: “Oh! My soul was just rejoicing in this peaceful flow. I saw myself traveling miles away, truly a healing experience.”

The second person said: “I can still feel the inner peace. I feel so drawn to my creator right now, what an unbelievably joyful experience.”

The third person said: “God unlimited good flows to me and trough me during this mediation; truly an awesome experience!”

I was the fourth person, so with the same tone of voice I said:

 “Honestly, after the forth “TING!” I saw myself travelling to a lononong journey. I felt such comfort, such peace; as if I was sleeping, and my soul was just resting in the Lord! To make it more convincing, I then placed my left hand on my chest, and took a long deep breath, and said: “Hahhhhhhh! I needed that!!!”  

“You see! Said Sheila. “ I told you, you were not here by coincidence!”  

“Oh! I AGREE!” I answered her with a nice peaceful smile.


My Secret Crush

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My world is in total chaos, yet, just the thought of him still makes me smile.

Yes, it’s a crush – a secret which I’ve held for a while now.

He’s not a hunk, nor overly handsome – But he was pleasant, kind and compassionate.

And, we both shared the same passion for children – we were volunteers for the neglect and abuse children in our community.

I din’t know anything else about him. But there  was something special about him, that whenever he just walks passed me, all my sensual senses were triggered, and my whole world started spinning around. Quite often I whispered, “You are awesome!”

But the honest true is, one day he would call my name, not only once, but twice.

And, since his voice was so soothing, and, ahh! I thought it was my heavenly father trying to tease me.

So I  answered was,  “Lord, may I remind you this is a very bad timing. You know the situation about me and this “Wonderful, compassionate, wish he had a crush on me too guy. Don’t you? Well! He is standing to my right, inside the glass office, and I feel so nervous right now that, I think I’m about to “Pi” on myself. So please excuse me if I reject your invitation to converse right now.”


Of course, God answered me back as well. In fact, his answer was:  “I just answered your prayer  for “That  wonderful, compassionate guy  to call your name, at least once during  your lifetime.” So, be prepared my child, because he’s heading toward you.”

“Oh my God!” I whispered to myself. Afterward, my naked body took a short vacation to Alaska. Yes, I was frozen.

And, when I finally had the courage to turn my head toward the glass office where I thought he was  standing, I realized it was too late. By then, he was already standing right in front of me,  staring at me with a pleasant smile.

“Oh my God!”

So do you remember when I lied earlier and said, “I was so nervous, that I was about to “Pi” on myself?” I have to confess. That was just an expression. Honestly, this time,  it was for real. In fact, after I realized he was handsomely standing there talking to me, I wanted to  take off running like a race track candidate, aiming for the gold medal. But unfortunately, I could not. Why? Because I felt as if my whole body was glued to the chair with the weight of the whole world resting on my shoulder. And the fact that  I couldn’t even open my mouth to answer him back made the moment even more awkward.  And, you really don’t’ want me to tell you the soccer team I felt playing inside  my stomach by then. You know, something  similar to a laxative treatment? And, that’s all I will say about that. .


Seriously, I had to force myself to take a couple deep breaths in order to cool off the hot flashes draining the cool air. In fact in my dream world, I was already painting a sculptured monument of him.  And, what’s worse, while I was busy staring at his cute lips, I couldn’t even hear the question he was asking me. So, I seriously had to force myself to stop my journey to heaven and made a U-turn back to earth. That’s when I realized  his question was pertaining to   a computer program we used in the office. Bummer! But till this day, I can not remember if I actually answered him back.

Yes, I know some of you may find this behavior a bit absurd. Well, in this case, my wish for you if for Mr. Crush will crush you like an unpredicted tornado during a Palmdale summer heat. Only after then, we could dispute our indifferences.

However, for those of you who’ve tasted even a zest of humiliation from a crush, I will confess that I couldn’t even open my mouth just to say: “Good morning” to him.”

Tree glowing

“Stop Tidding Me Gamma!”

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“What The …?”

“This is not a nice expression, so don’t you repeat it again!” I told my grandson.

“Han hen Gamma. Jesus taid that.”

“No, Jesus would never say something like that, because this is not nice.”

“Yes he tid Gamma! I hord t’him taid that in my TV. The man with a lonng lonng t’hair!”

“Well! The man with the long long hair, probably was not Jesus. Maybe he was the devil.”

“The Tevil? He t’have lonnnng hair Gamma?” He asked me with a shocking look on his face.

So I answered him: “They claimed he has long horns, long teeth, long nails, so he probably has long hair too.”

To my surprise, my grandson had dropped himself on the floor as he laughed, then said:

“You are so tunny. “Stop tidding me Gamma!!!”

Nadège Moïse

Definition of Money

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He held the dollar bill in his hand, simultaneously rubbing it against his face. “Dimy,” I said. “This money is dirty, you don’t know where it came from, and so you should never rub it against your face.”

-“No gamma, tis is not durdy, because tis is not money.” He replied.

-“What do you mean “this is not money? Of course this is money!”

– “Han hen! Tis is not money. Tis is a dollar Gamma.”

“Ok. So if this is not money, what do you think money is? I asked him. That’s when he grabbed my purse, placed his tiny hand inside there  to look for “money.” While all along he kept on saying:

“Where it tis again? Where it tis again? Got it Gamma!”

He then raised a quarter up with his hand, when at last he said with a big smile:

“Tis is money Gamma!”

Nadège Moïse

The Baseball Pitcher

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Picture this: I’m now living in Los Angeles with my biological mom, who’s the complete opposite of my step-mother. My step-mom is more like “words, words, annoying words.” But my mom is more of : “ACTIONS speak louder than words,” type of a person.” I really think my mom missed her calling. In my opinion, she should have been a professional pitcher. You know the guy who throws the balls in the baseball game? Don’t’ get me wrong; ok. The woman sacrificed her life for her children, and did a great job doing so. But she also has the instinct of cat, so you can never lie to her. She has a way she looks at you, as if she’s reading your soul, without saying one word, and whenever you see that look, you better start RUNNING as fast as you can. And, while in the process of running for your life, it would be wise, if you could grab anything you spot at her reach; then take off as if you were running in a track race aiming for the gold medal.

Although there are times, she’ll surprise us, when we won’t see it coming, but she will always say the following words first: “M’ta gadé’w, ou, m’ta pan!” A creole expression which I think originated with her.  With Haitian parents even if they spoke fluent French  or English all day and night, don’t expect them to discipline their children in English. They whoop your butt in creole, slap in you creole, pull your hair in creole, and then force you to eat, after they just whoop your but in creole. But after their anger cools off, they reason with you in French. Well, really! If this works for other children, it did not work for me. The honest true is, most often I did not deserve the whooping I got. And believe me, I was a fair judge of myself. I knew when I was wrong, so I would humbly take a slash of belt or two, although with my mother it was more like…………… But, when I didn’t feel she or anyone else,  had just cause to hit me; oh boy! “Woman, you better take your French and get out of my face!!” Well! I never said that, but I had a box full of anger expressions. Yes, you can tell I had a fresh mouth. So much so, all the mint in Haiti, whether in liquid, gum, herb forms, could not compete with my mouth. In fact, they pledge allegiance to me, and gave me the Medal of Honor.

I know by now you probably want to know what this creole expression: “m’ta gadé’w, m’ta pan!” Means. Pretty much to sums up: So if you were still standing in front of her, by the time she said  the last word“Pan,” chances are, the cooking pot, vase, cup, plate, or her shoes already bouncing back in your head. Believe me, she never missed a throw. I have to say this technic was mostly used on the boys. So my older brother became a pro with the baseball bat, so he never got hit.

For me it was her long nails on my skin or the belt. So, after the first whooping, I would say something like: “I wish you would go to hell, where God will condemn you FOREVER!” So the title of this whooping would normally be: “Where? Where? Where? “Where- do- you- want- me- to- go?”  Each word usually count for one belt slash. And my answer would be:” “You know where!” “You know where!”…””…” “…”

Then if the beating was very harsh, after the last slash; the moment she starts walking away, I would say: “Yououououou-” Then she would turn, and wait for me to finish my sentence. But I was smart enough to hold it in, until she started walking away again. Then I screamed from the top of my lungs:
“Are not niiiiiiiiiice !!!” More likely the title of this beating would be: “Let me show you then. –Let me show you then. Let-me-show-you-how-nice-I-AM-NOT!!!” So you draw the conclusion how many belts in total; by the way the UPPERCASE letters count for two belts each.

Then, if I still didn’t win the case, I would try my last attempt by saying: “God is going to JUDGE You! Or something like: “I can’t wait for God to come and get YOU!” I think that one was always the winner, because the title of that whooping would be: “Who? Who? Who?” And I kept on answering her: “You know who!” “You know who! “You know whoooooo!” Then on the last belt, I would tell her “Not God, but the devil will get you instead!” By then, I would usually win the case. She would leave me alone.

Yes. I must admit, I was quite a case, but not without a cause.  Back then, the majority of Haitian parents rule their household like the “Tonton Makout” on Duvalier’s regime. But I was the child sent from hell to plead my case. Either with my mouth, or my drawings. Besides, someone had to defend the other children!  lol

Nadege Moise

The Women Who Got Even – I called Her “SHE”

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“I called her “SHE”

At my uncle’s discretion who has a great sense of humor,  I went to Zubi’s market one Saturday morning with the hope to enjoy a few laughter. It was about nine nish when I arrived at the zubi’s market, and my shock started from the parking lot, when I heard everyone speaking very loud the Haitian Creole.  When I finally made it near the meat section, I had to squeeze, push and dove myself  through the crowd, just to obtain a number from the dispenser, near the glass counter. It was a delight to see I was number thirty four, while the last customer being called was seven, so I knew I would be there for a while. Apart from the Clerks who were Cuban, the whole store was crowded with my Country Haitian people. My uncle was unquestionably right; “creole” was all I needed. The majority of them were speaking LOUD, with the familiar unpolished creole language. Many of them were dressed with combination of colors which, “ I swear on my Grand-mama’s grave, whom I loved dearly” I would never even dreamed my people would have the audacity to wear.  Mixtures of orange and purple, lime green, and hot pink, white and red, you name it, they had it on. I think that’s when my “Fashion design” inspiration flew away. Hey! “rayi chien, di dan’l blanc” Which means in creole: “hate the dog, but at least admit his teeth are white.”  I said this to admit I loved how they tied their hair beautifully with colorful scarf, which made them all look beautiful. So, while I was there, I stayed focus by looking at them upward, and tried not to look down so I would not be hypnotized, with their definition of fashion. Oh! I forgot to mention about the gold they wore as well.  Between their large gold earrings, pure gold watches, bracelets, and rings with every kind of stones in existence, were enough gold to rebuild the whole temple of Jerusalem, and the streets of gold they mentioned in heaven. I stood there while observing their interactions, their face gesture and body languages, then smiled, while thinking to myself “this is the place to be!” The following was my second observation – You may read the first one entitle “THEY are my people.”


Just when I though it couldn’t get any worse than what I had just witnessed in my previous post, “SHE” stepped up. . I have no words to describe what she was wearing. So I will just say, I think it was a combination of the 70’s, like the “Mod” era, with a blend of the Travolta era, in the eighty’s. What stuck to my memory mostly, was the bright red satin blouse with the glitter accent, and the “orange” elephant legs pants. The jewelry was definitely from the movie “Grease.” And, the yellow shoes, was a first for me. She did have a “purple LARGE purse,” wearing a wig I think she must have borrowed from the lady from “The Jefferson’s TV show”

So, I would assume, with an outfit “like that,” if I were in her shoes, I would try to  make the least noise as possible, in order not to draw too much attention.  Unfortunately, I don’t know which part in Haiti she came from? But I can guarantee, it was not near the City at all. And, even if one were to reach her village, I have a strong feeling, it would be required for one to travel below ground level , deep, deep, deep down below. Just then I thought to myself: “Hollywood producers are missing out on the action here in Little Haïti.”

The clerk called her number, when “SHE” stepped forward. Right then, the bottom part of my  lips, fell on the floor, and even crazy glue was not be able to seal it back. I had that frozen look on my face; starring at her was not enough, so I kinda closed my eyes a few times, to make sure “I was really seeing what I thought I was seeing.” (Hey! that’s the best way I can say it!)  That’s when I heard when she said to the clerk:


“Me, don’t make my diole long today.” Meaning: (word for word:” Don’t make my lips long today.”)

So I guess the clerk understood exactly what she said, when he answered:

“Ok Mammy! Commo es ta?”  She did not even pay attention to his greeting, she pointed her finger to show him the hen she wanted as she said: “Gi me that big, big big one over there.” So he did.

 Then she said, “Gi me “One cou.” He answered “One what?” She screamed: “Yayayy! I told you don’t make my diole long today.”

 “But” he said, I don understand what dyu said.

(Keep in mind he was speaking with his heavy Spanish accent as well. So then I stepped up, and said, “She said she wants “one neck.”

He answered me:  “What she means by “ONE neck?”  So I turned toward her, and said in creole:

“Did you mean “you want a pound of chicken neck, or just one neck?”

Then, she looked at me for a moment, from head to toes. And I mean she examined me thoroughly before she answered me back in creole with the following:

“Have you ever seen a chicken with two necks? Answer me.” As she looks at me again, she said: ” Then how could you ask me “if I wanted to buy a bunch of neck?”

“Oh!” I nodded my head.   Then she said in creole: “tell him I want the chicken, plus one neck, two legs, and one gizzard, so I can cook a whole chicken for my Sunday dinner.”

I wanted to laugh so badly, but the colors she was wearing were an indication of how badly she could slap the crap out of me. So I behaved.

Just imagine how I had to tell the clerk, “this woman only wanted to buy: “ One hen, one neck, two chicken legs, one gizzard.”

He answered and said: “you mean, she wants to buy, the two ticken legs too?”

“Yap!” I responded.

Since I don’t’ speak Spanish, I can’t tell you what he said. But when all the guys started laughing, we knew it was not pleasant. We all started laughing, the whole store was laughing for at least ten minutes. Meanwhile, she never said one word. She just stood there, looking like a Hollywood star, with her bright shining shirt on. But I could tell she was preparing something good for him. So we all knew then, he was about to make the evening news.

When at last he handed over the bag with her request, he also had the never to say the following to her:

You forgot one more thing for the ticken. Don’t you want the shiiit too???

We all stood still, even afraid to breathe. All the other clerks stopped what they were doing as well. It was like a “stand still moment for the whole store.”

Then, she shook her head a couple times, while looking at him for a few second, she smiled, then she said with hand gestures:

“Oui, I buy the sheet. Then I give it bak to you. After that You know what to doo weet it? Take it homme with you, then call your wife, then raise her dress up, and you put it…”

“Oh! My God!” Screamed everyone in the store.   Then, as if it was a normal occurrence for him, he just laughed. Then he said: “Dyu curse me every Saturday. So I think Dyu are in love with me, and dyu just jealous I’m married.”

She turned back to look at him one more time, then said: “With your face looking like the time when “ wheat use to fight with chayote,” and your clothes looking like “When dirt is buying filth”  and you think I would want you!!!