Those Dead People to Whom I Spoke. Getchens Mathurin

We used to meet not because of a physical attraction but because that is what true friend do. We sometimes met and by a nice improvisation debating about religion as social phenomenon; talking about these politicians who fail to define their political program and underlining the state of our literature with these writers who brilliantly published their novels, their poetry. We used to reflect about the true meaning of love and how changing is its face as time passed. Years had strengthened our relationship and we had respected each other. She had seen me go into the arms of another woman without raising an eyebrow and I had met her fiancé without being jealous in any ways. I used to go to her house in ‘’Carrefour Feuilles’’ at times. We shared a wonderful friendship and we did our best to see each other or talk to each other at reasonable intervals in order to preserve it.

      But unlike Georges and Sophia, the Internet could not help me getting news from Charlande. She had never liked Facebook, which she felt was a snag of privacy and an opportunity for deranged minds to post nonsense in plain sight. Her Yahoo account! had even been disactivated, since it would have consulted it only every quarter of a century. Charlande gave the impression of not embracing modernity. More inclined to rely on nature, it seemed she was not able to understand the true usefulness of electronic and industrial progress.

      I came to the resolution to send messages to these three friends. I would use Internet for the first two and the post office for the third one. I first entered Sophia Ducoste into the Facebook search page and a result appeared. No photo on her profile. Only a flower that welcomed curious guess like me. But someone with this name did exist and this was already a great source of happiness. However, I had to go a little further to see if the features displayed met the information of the person I had in mind. After all, many people have similar names.

      This Sophia, originally from Port-au-Prince, was born on September 11^th. I couldn't know for sure if it was her or another one, the multi-level coincidences exist after all, but the date was a good sign for me since we used to celebrate her birthday when America commemorated the somber events of September 11^th , 2001. "If the account exists with shy, is her owner necessarily alive?" I asked. The only way to be sure about that was to sending messages. "But this person is already on my friends list!" I exclaimed. It was her, no doubt. So, I decided to say a few words to her, just to see if she would answer me.

      Hello Sophia,

      ‘’I have not heard from you for years. And suddenly, I am deeply consumed in the desire to know what you become. Being able to read something from you would assure me that you survived the earthquake of January 12^th. I remember those days when our friendship was as beautiful as a spring flower... I know I was wrong not to try to contact you a little earlier. But you would understand how it is good to protect our family from all kind of moral hazard. I pray that you and your loves one are very well.

      I beg you to answer me as soon as possible if you read this message.

      Getchens,

      Your great friend! ‘’

      I refrained from using phrases like "I don't know if you're still alive," but it was this state of mind that consumed me. That was this concern that pushed me to send her emails. A week passed, two weeks and a month arrived, without me receiving any news from Sophia. "Is she angry with me because of my prolonged silence towards her? I thought. But if she were alive, she too would have tried to contact me to find out if I were part of the living souls. Unless she has learned it from a third party.

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