The word on the street is that you're a boy. Folks (many women but also men) are so convinced that the other day a woman exclaimed "Kile w ap fe gason sa a?" (When are you going to have that boy?) Others say to each other: she's having a boy, she's having a boy. Others ask: Are you having a boy? And others just say: GASON. Blan yo (white people) have lots of ways of telling the sex of a baby still inside (watermelon, basketballs, footballs, and swinging gold chains with wedding rings on them, morning sickness) but when boy Niko was inside and we were walking around Port au Prince, no one ever said anything but BOY. And they were right. Some, as I stroll around our neighbourhood here outside Cap, say girl but it seems to be related to related to seeing boy Niko with me. And, every Haitian I've met aspires to the nuclear family including one boy and one girl. We already have a girl, I remind them, and they say oh yeah but that's another important subject altogether. I adore Gabriela and I love little boys.
Boys, I've learned from Haitians this time around when I'm walking slower, come in POINTY BELLIES.
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