The President I Nearly Met

Once, I nearly met a President It was a very hot morning when we docked in port of Prince. Papa Doc was in power then, the president of Haiti, a nice man who gave coins to the poor. Onboard came the usual gang of uniformed official who wanted whisky and cigarettes before any papers were signed. Amongst them Tonton Macute, men in slacks, summer shirts concealing side arms, sunglasses worn day or night; Papa Doc’s men looking after things. One of them offered to take me ashore show where the best whore was, I declined have an aversion for guns. It was a long hot night all portholes and doors closed, frantic people trying to sneak onboard to get away from this sunlit Island. The pilot came at noon to take us out, an intelligent man with eyes who had seen it all, he spoke English, I asked him about Papa Doc. He paused and said: “our president is a very nice man when he visits villages he has bags of coins whish he strew on the road for the poor to pick up from the dust, and with desperate hearts they are grateful for what he gives them.”