Sameeka.

From the first day I met her, Sameeka has been repeating the same question to me in quick, rolling Creole. The phrase always includes ‘etazini’ (the United States) – so I respond by explaining that “Yes, I live in the United States.” and “Yes, I am returning there on June 3rd” and “Yes, it is cold where I live” (the regular questions). But, she hasn’t ever seemed satisfied with my responses. And I always conclude that, despite my desire, I just don’t understand.

Sameeka just keeps holding my hand.
And persistently repeating her question.

Today, I understood the words.
And the question was exactly the one I feared it might be.


Would you take me to the United States with you?
Would you be my mom?


What could I possibly say in response that would feel okay? I held her hand a bit tighter, touched her cheek, and told her that we could be good friends here in Haiti, but that I could not take her to the United States with me. And I told her that I would talk with her again tomorrow.

I know the question is fairly common – not only in Haiti, but around the world. All the staff here have stories of being asked to adopt people’s children. When I was in South Africa, a woman with HIV (that I’d just met moments before) asked me to adopt her daughter. The common-ness of the request raises many questions for me – about love, about quality of life, about desperation.

But, today was different. When the question came from the child. When her persistence broke through. And when she asked so directly: “Molly, would you be my mom?”

No, beautiful little Sameeka. I cannot. But, I will talk with you again tomorrow.