Enemy of the People
Tonton Macute, papa doc’s henchmen, I saw them in action in 1968,
gunning down a boy who had stolen a packed of Chesterfield Cigarettes
from a cabin on our ship. They told him to run and shot him dead when
he did. They smoked cigarettes which I had given them and had whisky
breaths on their foul lips. Blood dripped into the green sea, each drop
screamed of injustice. No one came to pick him up before the morning
next day. Tonton Macute, like the mafia, will always be around and do
big businessĀ“s dirty work; while their victims vacuously pray to the same
gods as their torturers do.