In 2018, when our daughter was born, her father, Atibon, longed for Haiti. He’d been separated from his home country since 2010, just after that year’s earthquake. The ever-present and escalating political situation, among other reasons, kept him from going back. While Brooklyn, where we lived, has one of the largest Haitian diasporas in the world, he still yearned to find ways to bring his native land into our home.
Nearly all things food-related fall under my purview in the household, but when I gave birth to Desalin, I could no longer take the lead with mealtime.
I found myself incapacitated, chained to the bed with a tiny, adorable, totally alien package that had no interest in being put down for anything like cooking. The first night home we devoured…