Magenta Petals

The sun beamed over the canvas-like material of the rows upon rows of tents. It was a warm day, signalling that spring really was around the corner. The children gathered the energy they could muster up and played in an excited fashion until they were tuckered out. Well, all of the children except Johanne.

At four years of age, she could not understand why her dad didn’t come home after that shaky day a few years back. Every so often, she would question her mother about his whereabouts, only resulting in a shaky sigh for a response. She didn’t know better, and surely she had no idea how a simple question such as, “Where’s daddy?” Could make her mother’s heart drop to her feet.

Her father, Lucien, had always had a very devoted attitude. His head was firmly planted on his shoulders, and he would do anything in his power to make ends meet. With the little savings that he did manage to scrape together, all was lost in the earthquake. All the buildings came crashing down that day, and so did Johanne’s future.

After the devastating news surfaced with Johanne’s mother, her mind flooded with panic, and jumbled to make decisions. A few days after coming in contact with the chaos of the nation wide situation, the only clear thought she had was somehow handing Johanne off. The idea was constantly poking around in her head, but every time she scanned the crowds for somebody who seemed able to take Johanne under her wing, she failed miserably. Everybody was so overcome with panic, it was no use.

So instead, Johanne and her mother gathered all of the belongings they could attain and began to travel to the outskirts of Port-Au-Prince. Reports of high levels of cholera were spreading, and that wasn’t a risk that Johanne’s mother was willing to make. Safety was the priority, and that needed to be maintained.

Within days, they reached their destination. A cluster of other Port-Au-Prince natives had already claimed the land and built a diminutive camp. Of course, they welcomed the pair with open arms, and they managed to straighten out their lives. Or somewhat, at the least.

It wasn’t long before the ‘Croix Rouge’ appeared and supplied water and biffies throughout the growing community. It was all appreciated, especially the medical tent that had been set up. It gave the mothers a calming sense, a sense that definitely came into play when they lay on sandy ground and hold a child against their chest as they dream all through the night.

Johanne met other children, and they often bonded through games of tag and hide and seek. Dust kicked off of their calloused feet as they ran around in a frenzy, giggles erupting from their smiles. When it was Johanne’s turn to hide, she always returned to the same spot. A child sized gap behind the tent that was placed at the left corner of the village. While she hid, she gazed at a single magenta flower that had sprouted out from the dust. It kept her mind occupied while she waited for somebody to peek around the shelter and spy her. But not once has it happened, and that is why she was claimed as “Reine de cachee.”

Quite often, children would know better than to stay away from a burrow like such, knowing it would only cause trouble. Perhaps a wild animal lived there, or maybe it was the perfect place to sprain an ankle. After all, it was a place to be cautious around. Or not to be around at all.

It also happened to be a perfect place to relieve yourself. So one day, a young man called named Jean-Paul did just that. Nowhere in the back of his mind thought that the hole could possibly be the one place that a little girl kept to herself. So on he went with his business, and continued on with his day.

And on the day went, as it began to drizzle. It wasn’t an odd time of the year for precipitation, so the mothers of the village weren't surprised when they routinely rounded up the children to wait out the rain for the night. The children fell asleep early that night, counting on a sunny day in the morning.

Lucky to say, the rain had halted and the playing and excitement commenced in the village of tents. Johanne skipped off the her secret spot, careful for any eyes following her. Once she arrived, she was about to duck into her burrow when she noticed the puddle lapped up inside. She also noticed her flower had wilted, as one of it’s petals had drifted down to the ground. Quickly, she scooped up a bit of water and sprinkled it on the flower before she ran off to find a different hiding spot.

Following a couple rounds of tag, the children of the village were called over to the medical tent where one of the nurses handed out a chunk of bread to each citizen. It wasn’t much, but nobody was to complain. It was a nice change from the constant rice that was usually on the menu.

Without a thought, Johanne reached for the bread and popped it in her mouth. How was she to know that she had just infected herself and endangered the entire community with Cholera infection? It would’ve been quite rude to decline the sweet gift, plus she was rather hungry. After all, she couldn’t have possibly known better.

Nearly three days later, Johanne developed a queasy feeling, resulting in vomit. For hours, Johanne’s mother soothed her as she regurgitated her past meals. It was then when she noticed that she was soiling herself, and she was desperately worried for her child’s health.

In her arms lay an ill Johanne as she carried her to the infirmary tent. Nurses quickly identified the cause: Johanne was indeed infected with cholera, a severe case of it. Nurses scrambled to gather antibiotics to distinguish the infection, but within hours, it was all too late. Johanne had passed to a greater place. Her mother sobbed until her body was no longer able to produce tears. It was a sad day in the small village, as everybody prepared for a small gathering to remember Johanne, and what a happy child she was.

Maybe Johanne would still be a happy child if it wasn’t for Jean-Paul. Maybe her mother wouldn’t have to restrain herself as they lowered her daughter into the very spot where she first gathered the infection. And maybe, if a series of events did not occur, then she wouldn’t just be another statistic. Maybe she wouldn’t be 120 000 of the fallen angels due to such conditions. But not even fate could change this reality, as harsh as it was.

A year later to that date, Johanne’s mother finds herself standing before her daughter’s grave sight. Just as tears begin to fall, slipping and sliding off her tanned skin, she notices multiple wild magenta flowers scattered around the burial site. The pain that floods her chest day after day immediately settles and somehow she realizes that her daughter is in fact at peace. Johanne was a reminder of how quickly things can change, and how we must respect it now matter how much it hurts. Cholera may have took the life of a precious angel, but now due to the circumstances the village now knows how to prevent it.

And now, children still ran wild while energy coursed through their excited bodies. But not one child dared to hide near a biffy, or in an unknown area. Johanne was knowledge. Knowledge indeed.