The house was a single shotgun on N. Prieur Street. Weathered peach-coloured paint covered the wooden siding. I opened the gate and walked up the short path to the steps. The old man on the porch nodded his head without saying a word. He looked more African than New World, his dark, weathered skin contrasting with the peach of the house. The younger lady who opened the screen door invited me in, paid her monthly premium. I asked about the old man. “He’s my grandfather,” she said. “He’s from St. Martinville. He doesn’t speak English very well.”

Back on the porch, I look him directly in the eyes and say :

“Bonjou, M’sieu. Mo kontan renkontré tò.” Hello, Sir. I’m glad to meet you.

He smiled big. One of those full-face smiles of joy, recognition, connection.

Mo : Tô tite-fille, li té di ka tô té éné dan St-Martin. Your granddaughter tells me you were born in St. Martin.

Li : To pale kréyol ?! You speak Creole ?!

Mo : Oué, ein ti brin. Dis mô tò istwar. Yeah, a bit. Tell me your story.

Li : Oué, mo sor di làbà. Mô moman, li té travayé dan clô apé coupé lakann é mô popa itou. Mo té travayé ak lézòt ékan mo té gin 8 an. Ekan navé lô-haute dan 1927, mo jish ein ti gaçon. Mo té vu dê choges, oué. Nouzot té dan camp-çi-là dessus la levée. Ça nous a mis dan dê tentes. Mo souvyin, té ein lafemm, li té pa kapab trouvé di manjé pou sô piti. Li té mouri. Yeah, I’m from over there. My mother worked in the fields cutting cane and my daddy did too. I started working with them when I was 8. When the high water came in 1927, I was just a little boy. I saw some stuff, yeah. We were in a camp on the levee. They put us in tents. I remember there was a woman, she couldn’t find food for her baby. He died.

And so, the conversation continued for nearly two hours. A story that he needed to tell me because I was there to listen and understand his words. A story that I need to tell now, more than twenty years later, so it won’t be forgotten.

Mo té bliyé sô nom, mé sô istwa, mo va toujou me rapplé. I can’t remember his name, but I will always remember his story.