Christine St Ilis died on a raining Saturday 9 years ago. She was just 40 years old and went through a lot in the past few years. Even though it was hard for some people to believe, but my mother’s death had something to do with the voodoo. She had suffered from a 4-year sickness that kept coming and going. My uncle, Rosemond, was the one who took care of the family because my dad Henry was overseas. Rosemond took my mother to Penitansye, the biggest and most expensive hospital in Haiti. Penitansye is a hospital where patients are dying and not well-treated as a result of overcrowded conditions. In most hospitals, treatment is based on how serious the signs and symptoms are, but in Penitansye, treatment is based on money, not medicine. My family did not have much money, so my mother’s treatment was limited. My uncle, Rosemond felt that he had no other choice but to take my mother to a voodoo priest. Despite the fact that we believe in God, that did not stop my uncle from going to the voodoo priest, he wanted his sister to restore to health, and so did we. The voodoo priest did whatever he could and kept my mother alive for a couple days, but before you knew it, she was gone. Ever since then, my belief in God has gotten stronger; my mother’s death changed my whole life in every ways.
I was 12 at the time. I was watching TV at home when my uncle Rosemond walked in the house and went straight to his room. I knew there was nothing wrong because as usual when he got home that is what he did. But wait, “Did he say hi to me?” I asked myself. I just remembered he did not say a word to me when he walked in the house, and that is when I realized something went awry. “What is going on?” I asked. Where is my mother? My uncle looked wishy-washy. His face was red, and he was stuttering. “Come on now, take a deep breath Rosemond, and tell me what happened,” I said. “He said, Christine woke up this morning, and she did not feel well, and she is uh… dead.”
My mom, died of...
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