By the light of a kerosene lamp, I read a book called "Left To Tell," a griping first-person story by Immaculée Ilibagiza who survived the Rwanda genocide in 1994 by cramming into a priest's tiny bathroom with 7 other women. He hid the entrance with a wardrobe cabinet. They were given a plate of table scraps so no one else in his family would suspect he was hiding Tsutsi refugees. They estimate that a million Tutsis were massacred in 100 days.

Here's a view from the top balcony of the Villa Imperial Hotel. You can see Andre swimming across the pool. Most days we have the whole pool to ourselves. We made friends with a brother and sister whose parents are Haitian, but they were born in the U.S. and live in Philadelphia. The older son understands Creole, but it seems like his little sister doesn't. They're 100% Americans.

Here's Andre at the entrance to his mom's neighborhood. Most of these first houses belong to relatives. Even when we can't reach his family by phone, we can usually find a cousin nearby who can take their cell phone over to his mom, grandma or a sibling.