Sequence 9 
(The Big Brother) 

Moïse Berri 
and the Reconstruction of the Haitian 
Space Agency 

by Jude Jarda 

Sequence 9 
The Big Brother 

Back in Montreal on Beaubien 

Street, in the Rosemont-La-Petite-Patrie Arrondissement, Deodas Demosthene Wilfrid Evariste Legitime is conducting an emergency meeting in a poorly lit office located on the third floor of the Passage Légitime funeral home. With the help and the guidance of his personal assistant and his top manager, the hunchbacked octogenarian is putting the last touch to the architectural plans of the new graveyard of Mizerikod. The old man acts with a lot of scrutiny because he personally designed and financed this risky venture. He shows a lot of confidence and hope regarding this major project because his ultimate goal is to be buried right down in Mizerikod, his native town. Deodas Demosthene Wilfrid Evariste Legitime is somehow proud to organize and have full control over his departure from this life, content to have the privilege of using his power until the end. 

The old timer's assistant and accountant is also his nephew by alliance; a sickly looking frail man smelling cheap cologne. Kennedy Fleurinor holds a thick rugged Getac X500 notebook close to his heart as if it were a newborn baby or a Fabergé egg that needs protection from bad weather. Kennedy Fleurinor and his boss have been reviewing all the details of the power of attorney they plan to give Burns Breton, the director of the Montreal funeral parlor and future administrator of the Mizerikod cemetery. Burns Breton will be representing their interests in Haiti during the construction of the new cemetery. Mr. Breton is their right-hand man when it comes to business that involves money laundering, loan sharking and racketeering back in Mizerikod. Building a funeral complex is something completely new to all three; therefore, a number of blurry topics must be looked over and be modified or at least be clarified. 

“Concerning the security and the permanent surveillance of your mausoleum,” Burns Breton explains, “installing the electrified fence and arming the guards will be a piece of cake. For the land mines, however, we might face fierce opposition from the Americans. Some people there are not entirely comfortable with us importing them legally and going through official customs and all that taxes and crap. It does say made in USA on the bottom of those killing machines; some people at the embassy are feeling a little bit embarrassed. They don't want to be blamed if we lose track of one or a dozen of those explosives. My chief engineer came up with a brilliant idea. He proposed that we dig a deep trench around the monument, drop a bunch of bear and wolf traps into the ground and put some visible warning signs in police colors; black on yellow. You see what I mean? As for the recalcitrant families who still refuse to leave the premises with their tents and their belongings, we must avoid the use of force. We don't want our pictures and our names in the papers next to a corpse or a pool of blood. We don't need such bad publicity. All I need is the title deeds in my possession. A good dose of propaganda should be sufficient. We simply tell the people occupying the cemetery that the ground is highly radioactive and that the International Atomic Energy Agency is extremely concerned about their health and security. I am working hand in hand with the mayor of Mizerikod, who happens to be your brother-in-law and the father of your personal assistant. Things cannot get better.” 

“Amédée Fleurinor can go to hell,” spits the old man with bitterness. “I named two dogs after that bastard. They were both stupid and the last one bit me. That mutt is scheduled on Tuesday for a carbon monoxide intake. Now, I want to take a glimpse at my coffin. Better beware, Breton, if that thing is not exactly like I drew it on that napkin I gave you last week, I swear on your mother's grave that I'll be using some heavy gauge nails to lock you in it forever.” 

“That's not a nice thing to say to your obedient servant, Master Legitime. Your casket is precisely like you've designed and ordered it. It's down in the basement next to the fridge. Go ahead and take a peek. I'll join you two in a minute. Leave the paperwork on my desk. You will be buried in a work of art, Master Legitime. It was crafted by a young aspiring artist named, Kwesi Okyere Adjapong, in the Ghanaian shop founded by Seth Kane Kwei. It has the shape of a conga drum. It's a wooden Picasso, nothing less. The interior is coated with Egyptian cotton and Cambodian silk of the finest quality. Feel free to try it. Feel free.”  

©Jajjazz ©Jude Antoine Jarda