I Rejected My Father. And He Just… Disappeared?

It’s cool outside!

That makes sense… It’s December, and the temperature usually drops during “winter” time.

Technically, the temperature never goes lower than 20 Degrees Celsius, but to the Haitian skin, 22 Degrees Celsius feels unbearably cold.

Driving to Port-au-Prince on December 22nd, 2015 seemed fun, hopeful, and nerve-wracking.

I was going to leave Haiti for the first time — and my life was going to change forever.

December also meant that my dad was going to send me the usual $100 USD per year from the US.

But this time was different…

In a stroke of egotistical outburst, I said to my mom —

“I don’t want that — now I don’t need him. This guy doesn’t care about me, so I don’t care about his money”

I sent the money back to him — and never heard of him ever since.

So, what happened?

…

The backstory as told by mom, my church leaders, and neighbors

My mom’s account

“Hey son, listen!”, said my mom, “I think it’s time we have a conversation about your dad”.

“I think this is going to need to wait, my friends are waiting outside — for me to go play soccer”, I answered.

“Well, this is so not a request”, she retorted in an authoritative tone.

“Your dad is kind of a piece of crap. Maybe he’s changed by now — but that’d be a miracle”, she said — smiling.

“That’s not so funny,” I thought to myself.

Then my mom proceeded,

I got married to your dad when I was 20 years old. I knew I was going to marry him even before meeting him.

It was an arranged marriage. Your aunt Lucienne picked him for me. She said, he was not a city boy.

That was basically the only requirement.

In the eyes of my aunt Lucienne — whom I was named after, my father was not a “vagabond”

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“Vagabond” is a French word. Its Haitian Creole translation has a dual pronunciation, “Vakabon” or “Vagabon” —

The literal English translation is a bum, a vagabond, or a person who has no fixed home.

However, in Haitian Creole, this word means being a player — and/or a degenerate.

Whatever the meaning of the word “vagabond” is, in the eyes of my aunt — my father was NOT that. So that means he was fit to marry my aunt’s beloved niece — my mom.

…

When did things go south?

In my mind, things already started badly — and it went downhill from there. How could this marriage ever work? It started with someone else’s ideal.

By all accounts, my aunt was a noble, firm, and lovely woman. But I would say she wasn’t the wisest.

Still — I’m here to tell the story… So was she actually right? 😆

My mom goes on to say,

At first, this was like a typical marriage — then you were born, and things went south.

“Mooom!”, I said screaming…

“Once again, you had to ruin everything” — she said, smiling

“Are you roasting me or having an authentic moment with me? — which one is it?” — I wondered

She then says,

Seriously, your dad was/is a piece of garbage. After you were born, he wouldn’t wake up and help me at night. He wouldn’t help in any way whatsoever.

I asked him once to change your diapers, and he said… This was actually his exact words:

“Look at me, lady! Do I look like the type of person that got married to change diapers? I will tell you once and for all, I did not get married to wipe your son’s butt.”

So, he hated me, mom? — I responded in a timid and sad way.

Well — to be fair, your poop used to smell a lot, actually. So I can’t blame him for not wanting to wipe your stinky butt.

“Stop it mooom!”, I replied…

I so wish that was the worst he did, she whispered

A few questions came to mind when she said that:

So what other things could my dad have done?
Is he actually the monster that my mom claims he is?
What if mom is lying about him?
And if he did do those things, my mom’s about to dump on me, would there be some justifications for his actions?

…

When the drinking starts, the cheating starts, and the abuse follows

My dad’s patterns
My dad ended up being an avid drinker.

He also started to go out and spend the night out— possibly with his myriads of mistresses.

My mom said,

“He was totally disconnected from the family. He wouldn’t take care of us. And when you were three years old — he took everything away and took off”

According to my mom, my dad stole all the assets of the family. He sold our lot, seized the cattle, and went back to his not-so-city-like place up in the mountains.

…

The impact of dad’s actions

I was 3 years old at the time — and my mom barely had any family/things left. So the church took us in.

My aunt “Lucienne” at the time was living in the States. When she heard the news of my dad leaving, she had a stroke — and could no longer walk.

2 months after my dad abandoned us, he called my mom — telling her that he was a changed man.

He then invited my mom to the mountain under the pretext that he would give her everything back.

When my mom got there, he beat her up — until she passed out.

…

So, what?

I don’t know if I was justified in cutting ties with him when/how I did — but at that moment, I felt like he was not someone I wanted to be close with.

A few months ago, a cousin of mine asked me if I had heard from him — which is weird because she was the one that got us to reconnect.

I must admit, though — I sometimes wonder how life would be if he were around.

Now, I don’t even know if he’s alive — and in all sincerity, I’d rather not.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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