- Part 1 - The Nazi Dillema
- Part 2 - The Boy in The Striped Pajamas
- Part 3 - The Girl with the Scars on Her Back
- Part 4 - Mary and Martha
- Part 5 - Betraying the Boy
Day two was a Sunday. But it was election Sunday, so we didn't leave the house-- not for church, not for anything. This was probably for the best as the "church service" we had at home didn't sit well with Marie Marthe. I'm not sure if it was the noise, or something more spiritual going on but she wasn't able to stay in the room during the singing. Only after the noise had ended and Gwenn and I began to teach some sort of sermon would she return and even then she did so with tears in her eyes.
I mention spiritual things here not to put some sort of Christian spin on this story but because you cannot get away from spirituality in Haiti. The first reaction of any Haitian to Marie Marthe’s story, particularly this part, would be to point toward spiritual things. And I can’t dispute that. If there was a physical battle that was about to be waged for this little girl, the spiritual battle had begun long before.
On day three we searched for Marie Marthe’s family. This was the plan all along, but was reinforced by the judge that gave us custody on Saturday. We had her for three days. On the third day we needed to go back to the judge with Marie Marthe’s family to figure out what the long-term solution should be. We were under no illusions. It wasn’t our goal to take her into our home as one of our children. We hoped/believed that the best place for her was with her parents. She had been abused, but not by them. It took most of the day, but by the end of it Gwenn had gotten to talk to the mom—along with a bunch of other brothers, sisters, cousins, etc.
This is also the day I met Fifi— heck of a name for a child abuser. She was everything I had imagined her to be, probably you too. Re-read the account of what was done to Marie Marthe and picture her abuser in the body of a 20-something Haitian woman. Reader, meet Fifi. Our brief encounter only solidified our desire to make sure that Marie Marthe never returned to her.
Tuesday, day 4, we met Marie Marthe's mother and (surprisingly) father at the police station at 10am. Things went as expected. Marie Marthe wasn't thrilled at the sight of her parents, but we couldn't be surprised by that-- she'd been living a privilaged life with us for 3 days, why would she want to return to any form of her former life? At the same time, she wasn't afraid of them, and even at this point, never accused them of abuse.
Then came our second meeting with Fifi: She was at the police station reporting a "runaway" child... right. The rest of our day through multiple meetings and multiple locations she seemed to shadow us. Worse, the parents didn't seem to mind. At one point Fifi walk right up next to the dad. I expected some sharp words or an angry stare, but there didn't seem to be any animosity toward the woman who did THAT to his daughter. Could it be that they were on the same side? Against us?
We went into our meeting at the justice of the peace with a simple agenda-- we didn't want to keep Marie Marthe, but we didn't want her returned to her abuser. So we made clear to the parents, we will stand with you as you try to get your child back if you will stand with us as we try to put her abuser in jail.
And so when the crowd (yes, there is a crowd at the Haitian justice of the peace-- remember this is a country with no Court TV, no People's Court, and no Judge Judy) started to turn against them asking, "How could you let this happen to your daughter?" I stood with them responding, "They didn't know what was happening to her. They were doing the best they knew how." But when the crowd demanded justice for this little girl against her abuser, two people-- mom and dad-- stood apart. Could it be that they would return Marie Marthe to Fifi if given the chance?
It was with these doubts that I entered into a conversation outside the courthouse that afternoon.
I don’t mind the crowds so much at Haitian courthouses. I’m used their spectating at this point. But the part I’m still getting used to is that they don’t just want to watch. They want to express their opinion as well. This can work for you (I’ve experienced that), and it can work against you (I’ve experienced that too) but the dynamics of the crowd have to be taken into account.
And on of Marie Marthe’s relatives (sister? aunt? I can’t remember) was trying to insert her opinion on the parents that day. They, both mom and dad, had been adamant from the beginning that whatever the solution for this girl was, it wasn’t putting her in an orphanage. And so it never really was an option that we go home with Marie Marthe as our child. But this relative felt that was the best solution. And she was trying to insert her opinion into the situation. As I entered that conversation outside the courthouse, which had started long before I arrived, she had succeeded.
Dad looked at me and asked “So if we were to put her in your orphanage, we wouldn’t be able to get her back? We wouldn’t be able to visit—is that right?”
“Yes,” this had been their sticking point in the past.
He frowned, but said “OK… take her.”
This was my chance. I had begun doubting and wondering about their intentions. I didn’t understand their indifference toward a woman that had show so much hate toward a girl they claimed to love. I had a chance at that moment to challenge the established system and stand up for what was right.
But it was hard. The fear consumed me… as it does all of us. Now I get that these situations aren’t exactly parallel. And I get that everyone will have their opinion about my decision to turn the parents down, to pass up my chance, and to talk them out of it.
But what I know is that this decision was made out of fear. The only question that remains is what I was afraid of.
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