Sonrisa, a word in Spanish meaning smile, and it was her name. Her dad, Sonny Louis, and her mother, Marisa Sands Louis, had forged their names to form hers. And as she grew older her parents realized that she took on the main characteristics of her name and became in all senses a smile.

Sonrisa grew up in a sheltered grove that she called Katyé Kreýol, a place where love, laughter, fun and magic always hung in the air. She loved the shining metallic tin silver tin roofs that played music for her to dance to whenever it rained, and also the board siding houses that were painted such a blue it rivaled that of the cerulean- hued sky. The summer was a time of magic as fireflies each evening lighted warmly and prettily across the evening sky. And what especially made her smile was the way that the tall and stately coconut trees swayed wondrously in the arms of the wind, sometimes in times of joy and at other times during fierce and vicious storms.

For Sonrisa as a child there were always tree house to build within the arms of friendly dilly trees, tire swings to swing on and limestone rocks to run over barefoot, much to the disappointment of her mother. She was a princess in her own right, and with a toothy grin upon her face one could see that she knew it and loved it. That is until the day she met him.

Those who lived outside of Katyé Kreýol didn't have high expectations for those who came from the settlement, but Sonrisa was well on her way to proving that the best came from her home when he showed up. He was an Anglé, an enemy, the one who would take her heart for a ride. He should have seen her smile and her home and fought to protect its brilliance, but he didn't. He saw her smile and her home and saw a conquest, something that he had to claim.

She had been sitting in the grass with a few of the kids from the neighbourhood surrounding her, teaching them all that she had learned of the bumblebees, butterflies, dragonflies, flowers and other things in nature. Then he walked in—actually drove in with a group of local politicians one of whom had been his father. They had wanted to see what this hidden grove of homes was like.

They were shocked at the development. A quaint, yet beautiful Creole village nestled safely in the woods. The one road that led into Katyé Kreýol wound around in the shape of a heart, and the homes were situated on the left side with a grassy area in the middle. The homes were well-kept and had the amenities that were needed for the everyday and a few extra things. When Katyé Kreýol had popped up some fifty years ago they had all laughed at its shanty beginnings, but today looking at its present, they thought of how cheated they had been. If they had known that this community of Haitians could have produced this, they would have never allowed them use of what had been the worst parcel of land in New Providence. Yet what they had failed to realize was that these persons had come together to better themselves and their families. They had worked unending days and evenings to fix their homes; they had tilled the soil, planted gardens and taught their kids to do the same. They had wanted more.

"Bonjour, I am Brian Greene." He said to her and her flock of summer "students" in a loud, slow, monotone in the manner one talks to the hard of hearing or persons who are just learning English.

"Yeah, okay Mr. Greene." She smiled up at him before continuing. "I'm Sonrisa Louis. These ladies here are Marlene, Erlande and Marianne." She responded in perfect English, mimicking the way he had spoken to her. "What are you all doing here?" she went on to add pointing at him and to his entourage standing afar from them, taking everything in with steely surreptitious glances.

"We wanted to see what was here," he responded tersely, taking her response as a negative. He thought that she was mocking him when it was just her manner to lightly banter with everyone that she met. To most persons who met her it was cute, different and friendly, but he didn't view it that way.

"Well now that you have seen it, what are you going to do?" Sonrisa enquired of him smiling. She had recently come home from her second semester of her third year at college. She was studying to be a Marine Biologist with a minor in Ecology. She was also of the opinion that she knew the worth of government help better than her parents and elders and was still so optimistic that she could not see the danger in it.

"Well Ms. Louis we want to find out from the residents of this community how we as the government can bring aid to them." Brian said, as he looked around at her surroundings, the children and then back at her.

"Well, umm, I think the kids could use a new slide and some extra reading material," Sonrisa began, only to be cut off by her father.

"We have all that we need," Her dad interjected coming up behind her. "We can get the slide and books. We only want to be left alone." He trusted no one, especially not the Anglé, whom he had watched burn down the home that he had built-- on land that he had purchased-- numerous times. "We would like this place to remain as is, built and kept up by us."

"Well, I guess that I will have to relay to my father and his friends what you all want then." Brian sighed. He looked from Mr. Louis to Sonrisa. He noted the similarities, they were tall alike, had the same shaped face and eyes. Yet her father had a frown marring his brows and Sonrisa had a quiet smile on her face. As Brian looked at her he realized that she did not fit into his views on how Haitians looked. She was just too beautiful, clean and soft to be Creole.

Sonrisa was truly beautiful, on the inside and outside. With a honey hued caramel complexion and lovely almond shaped brown eyes set in a heart shaped face. She had soft winking dimples and an attractive average frame.

She deserves better than this. He thought to himself not realizing that her Katyé Kreýol and her Haitian heritage was where her heart was and where it would always be.

As he was taking her in, Sonrisa was also doing the same of him. She noted his tall frame; he towered over her at 6'3" which was truly tall for her 5'10". He had amber hued eyes that glinted dangerously as he observed her; his features were angular giving him a wolfish air, all against a warn coconut bark hued complexion.

"But if you ever do need anything, call me." He said handing them his business card. As Sonrisa and her dad took the business cards that he offered, they both just nodded their heads in assent. Mr. Louis planned on never having to use it, but Sonrisa thought that she knew the value of networking.

"Good day Mr. Greene." Sonrisa stated with a smile, shaking his outstretched hand.

"Good day," he responded smiling as he walked away.

She didn't see him again until she was at her summer job in the bank one day. From that day he was constantly in the bank making small talk with her. She began to like his quirky comments and looked forward to his visit each day. Some days he would meet her at five o' clock and drop her home. Her father did not like the development one bit, Sonrisa on the other hand, for the very first time in her life, was stubborn and refused to listen to her father's advice. He had dated and married a Bahamian, why couldn't she have one as a friend? she often thought to herself.

One day he came up to her as she was leaving for lunch and he walked with her making small talk and even asking if he could take her for lunch. She accepted. By this time she had realized that she liked his company. Their lunch was going well until a talk show came on about the state of the country and a caller stated something very prejudiced

"Mr. Walker, I don't like Haitians! They need to all be sent back to their home. They smell bad, they always dirty, and they dumb. The only thing they good for it seems is having sex and making more of their kind." The caller stated on national radio.

Brian laughed at the comment, not truly stopping to think on what the caller said and how it might have rubbed Sonrisa the wrong way.

"Why'd you laugh?" she enquired quietly with eyes that seemed to be measuring him. As he heard her question the grin left his face and his gaze turned to her, challenging her.

"It was funny," he laughed, "and not to mention true," he responded boyishly. He felt as if because she didn't look or act Haitian, and also because her mother was Bahamian then that meant that she wasn't Haitian. This was in many respects almost true for she would be the first one to speak highly of her birthplace and that of her mother's family. But she also had been admonished by her mother to not forget her father's heritage or to try and hide it.

"How do you know that?" She asked firmly. "Yeah I agree that Haitians tend to have a lot of children but have you ever been on a labor ward in your last stages of labor and a nurse leaves you to your own devices?" she enquired softly. Her smile had vanished as she remembered the pain her aunt had gone through to have her last daughter.

"No, of course not, I'm a male." Brian snarled at her.

"A rich Bahamian male at that." She replied tersely, looking away.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked and she noted that he seemed to have become upset and defensive. It was then that her eyes were opened and she noted that he had wanted to own her-- but he had wanted her to forget her home and her heritage. He wanted to change her optimism: she was always so bubbly, so perky, and so pleasant.

As she looked at him her mind drifted away to a moment in her past, her first day of primary school when the kids had surrounded her and pulled on her pigtails and made fun of her name and Haitians in general. Then her mind flashed to a day in fifth grade when her teacher had made a snide remark in front of the entire class that Haitians were stupid and dumb and that Risa could not have told the truth to her classmates when she had told them that her dad spoke four languages fluently.

"Have you ever been told that Bahamians wanted to put you and your family on a boat and burn it?" she asked of him quietly and calmly.

Brian shook his head.

"No you haven't. Yeah I am only part Haitian, but it is a part nonetheless. You'll never know life until you can feel all that others feel. You will never know life until you lose your prejudice. Good day Mr. Greene," she stated calmly, and in such a way that when he looked in her eyes he saw that he had been weighed on scales and found wanting.

She had walked away with a heavy heart, feeling betrayed. She wanted nothing to do with Brian and was glad that her term at the bank would be over in just a few days. The days sped by with him trying to apologize, yet as she had looked into his eyes, she saw that he was still unwilling to give up his prejudices. He liked her and wanted to extricate her from one aspect of her heritage, yet to have her was to have Katyé Kreýol she told him on her final day at work.

That weekend she got a call from him begging her to relent and forgive him. She in turn told him that he would always be her friend but never anything else. It was then that he became mean and threatened to burn her precious Katyé Kreýol. She laughed and told him that her community was not what was keeping them apart, it was his heart. It was filled with hate, prejudice and ignorance. And it probably always would be that way.

Have you ever noted the way smoke seems to dance across the sky? Wispy and willowy as if tempting one to come away with it; blocking out the sun, the moon, and the stars from view. Taking with it many times hopes, dreams and wishes. This time the smoke did that, but this time the smoke had taken it all away from Sonrisa. It stole Sonrisa's home, her magical rhythmic tin roofs, her swaying palm trees, her tree houses, tire swings, her butterflies, bumblebees, her flora, fauna, her heart, and her smile. Two days after Brian had called her she sat with her mother on a wall waiting on the fire engine to arrive, watching as her Katyé Kreýol went up in smoke.