High on Haiti

There is a reason why traditions become traditions. They provide comfort in peaceful and turbulent times. They are the life preserver on the high seas of life.

Take Haiti and the Monday morning tradition in Port au Prince where young smoke some marijuana and down some brewskis. They can't really afford it because they aren't working so they rely on money from their parents or from well-meaning relatives living abroad. Some men believe that beer is a food group because it contains corn and barley. They say that the tradition makes them feel better because it helps relieve their stress. Heaven knows, if there is one place where the stress-o-meter has been on full tilt, it is modern-day Haiti, though the pre-earthquake Haiti was not exactly rolling in the dough, either.

My father had a Monday morning tradition too where he got up and went to work after eating a breakfast of eggs (sunny side up) toasted rye bread with butter and Lipton tea with lemon. Then he drove to work at the used car lot he owned.

In the end, that must be how Haiti became Haiti because their able-bodied nimrods keep following this tradition as a way to relieve stress rather than rolling up their sleeves and going to work. Maybe the elders, who look on and shake their heads, could stop looking on and shaking their heads long enough to say something to them before the whole place goes up in a giant puff of smoke.