We reached the coast and conditions were a little better until we reached the outskirts of Port just at first light. The capitol is at the end of a cul-de-sac that reaches up into the mountains toward the Dominican Republic so all the water that falls in the mountains is channeled down to the sea. We had to cross the torrent by pushing water up ahead of us. Finally we reached higher ground near the airport just in time to see a line of six US helicopters heading south with relief supplies. We were thrilled to be Americans as that time when, despite the rift between the two governments because of Duvalier’s overthrow of the democratic process and his civil rights abuses, the US was sending aide to people who had lost everything. We had come through a nightmare to see another version of the American Dream: Americans using our bounty and technology to help others in times of crises.
Later that fall after the presidential elections in the States, one of the nurses at Bon Sam’ asked me where the loser Richard Nixon was. “He went to his home in California,” I told them.