Had a nightmare last night in which I was in Haiti with my friend, the photographer I used to work with. We were walking down this road and people started drifting toward us and I just knew something bad was going to happen. Then we saw a stream of them running, like ants, toward us, screaming and I knew we were in trouble. They were running away and G grabbed my arm and said we have to go Bonnie, NOW!
Then we saw it. Men running with scissors...sounds funny but these were razor sharp scissors with bright red plastic handles and they were bloodied. They used the scissors to cut people and kept cutting and cutting.
We had to hide because we knew we couldn't outrun the danger... we ran toward this batch of woods (which is ironic because few places in Haiti have woods left) and down this hill, and I wanted to stop but G kept running and I knew we weren't safe. And all the time I kept hearing the screams of the people in pain who got caught and the awful sounds of scissors and soft flesh tearing. I was terrified but we kept running because we knew if they caught us, the "blancs" we'd be in real trouble. They wanted only to hurt us, kill us. So we had to run away and hide.