When I walked into the ravine on Tuesday morning, I overhead a woman say something about a baby in the river. I immediately turned around and asked where the baby was. "In the river," the woman repeated. I dashed to the edge, but couldn't see anything. The woman approached me and told me the rest of the story.
"The baby was sick so we threw it in the river. But it's not there now. The pigs ate it."
Everyone standing nearby nodded calmly. The pigs ate the baby. This, my friends, is Haiti.
And all we could do was whisper, "God, please let the child have already been dead when they got to it!"