Zaloa wrote me. She sent me a novel, mixed nuts (my slight addiction), and a bag of candy. The book and the nuts were for my devouring, but the sweets were to be distributed to our loved ones in Kay Pov and the Disco. I counted the candies and made sure the sizes and the flavors varied equally and head off to Kay Pov. After a few hours of laughing and talking in Kay Pov I was on my way to the disco. An emptied container of Planters NUT-rition carried the goods sent from Spain. The edges of my mouth drew closer to the sky and the haste of my step augmented as I approached the green iron gates of the club. Two weeks had passed since I last saw the women. When I passed the last kiosk to my left before turning into the discotheque, my feet stopped. The thick chain hung heavily on the opened gate and from wall to wall of the property concrete floors and debris were all that remained. The rooms I shared moments of laughter, anger, fear, and hope could not be found. They were gone.
I turned to three women behind me who seemed slightly shocked at my motionlessness, “Do you know where they have gone, the women who worked here? Do you know when they left?” They voiced my observations, the disco closed, nothing and no one remained. I thanked them with grief, turned once more to what used to be my friends’ abode and hell and left, still carrying the container full of bonbons with both hands in front of me.
I’ve collected little bits of information and have returned since. According to a man who sat underneath the mango tree on a broken chair in the empty lot, Ingrid left to Port-au-Prince and Magali and Mauza went to work for a man named Raul in Port-de-Paix. I’m not sure how accurate this information is, if I will see these women again, or if they continue working in the same profession. All I know is my love for them and how much I pray for them and all women in situations of oppression.