“Why doesn’t Kennedy kill him?” One of them asked. “Won’t he start a revolt?”
I tried to tell them that we don’t do that in America. We change presidents through elections and the person who loses accepts that. The loser can always run again and often does. Soon after that conversation the President was shot and the hospital staff were dismayed that we had an orderly process for replacing the president and Nixon couldn’t take over.
The Limbe River flows east of the town unless there is a big rain which results in the river flowing through the town. When the river rises, cries of “dlo, dlo,” (water, water) and the moans of conch shell horns, the Haitian version of danger warnings and cries for help, can be heard from the lower parts of town. Alongside the hospital compound ran a ten foot high dyke built by the French sometime before 1804. One night while I was there was the dyke was breeched, somewhere behind the hospital compound. The maternity and pediatric wings were above the flowing water but the lab, records office and x-ray unit sat at ground level. Bill and I along with hospital staff waded around moving the equipment and records to table tops and work benches while Joanna and the children worked in their house. My little house was higher but still had some water. Then around two o’clock that morning the water started to recede and we could get some rest before getting up to start the cleanup.