Backpack

A couple of months ago, one of the workers at Kay St. Anne offered to wash my green back pack for me.  I felt a bit embarrassed when I realized how dirty it had gradually gotten.  This is the knapsack I took almost everywhere I went in Haiti.  When she offered I politely said, "non mesi," (no thank you.)  Aware that I would be returning to the states soon, I told her that I would wash it when I returned home.  Well, since I am home, in the place where I actually am now officially living, and have finally after many weeks am no longer living out of suitcases (Mesi Bon Dye/thanks be to God), I washed my back pack.  It contained an amazing amount of Haitian dust, some of which came out easily turning the water brown. I washed it by hand and might throw it in the washer when I do a load of dark clothes soon.  I doubt all of the dust will come out even in the washer-machine though because it just seems to be so deeply embedded in the fabric.  It is one thing to take the bag out of Haiti, but deep down there may always be some of Haiti in that bag.  Even if I do manage to get every speck of dust out of the knapsack, I still think it is an adequate metaphor because I know I can't possibly wash all of the Haiti out of myself.