haractersWithSpaces> 11.1282
My TV stays stuck on CNN and seems to be my only view into the world of hurt that has engulfed the people of Haiti. Yes, there is other coverage on the tube and I should diversify my viewing habits, but I rarely stray from them when disaster strikes. So it was comforting to view all the retweets on Twitter that CNN reported that Wyclef Jean and his Yele Haiti organization was cleared of any wrong doing when it came to misappropriating money raised for the people of his beloved country. Early in his relief efforts ‘Clef was accused of taking the money for personal benefit. When I gave to the organization, this news hadn’t broken yet. Not that it would matter to me, but I didn’t think twice about whether I did the right thing or not when I texted the 501 501 number on my cell.
‘Clef has been the only consistent voice of the Haitian people since I’ve heard of him and the Fugees. I’m from the Prospect Heights section of Brooklyn, New York. Every year since I was born (with a 5 year break for living elsewhere), on the Labor Day holiday you could find my southern born and bred family around the corner from our longtime home, occupying a section on Eastern Parkway during the Labor Day/West Indian Day parade. Massive floats would glide down the parkway exhibiting the pride, passion and people from every corner of the Caribbean. My family adopted the Trinidadian and Jamaican flags, while other non-Caribbean friends and family grabbed flags from Barbados, Grenada and Bahamas. Toward the mid to late 90s there was one float that you heard above all others and it was the Haitian wave lead by none other than Wyclef and his band of brothers and sisters. The way this man would jump and swing that blue and red flag of his country, with sweat streaming down his face and people screaming and chanting to his words while the float would bounce dangerously close to collapsing only stood as testament to Wyclef’s connection to those who und
