Port Salut: A Short Story
The sweltering heat greeted me at the exit of the Port-au-Prince, Haiti airport.. The dominant language switched from English to French and Creole, and my American mentality switched off and my Haitian one turned on. It had been nine years since I've been in Haiti. I could remember only faint memories of my time here. Two days later, my family piled into a couple of cars, and headed out to my grandma's quaint home in the countryside, Port Salut. Along the trip, we drove through the slums of the inner city where children played in the garbage while the mothers bombarded our cars every time we stopped. I thought you only saw these things on television. But, don't get me wrong. My country is beautiful. The scenery quickly changed as we drove