It’s 1:31 a.m. when a phone call breaks the heavy silence of the night. “Stay awake!” warns my cousin in a worried voice, recounts Nadia Jean to Le Nouvelliste. In the distance, the clinking of machetes, whistles, and agitated voices echo through the darkness. Some sounds seem to be getting closer. It is only later that she realizes it was a noise protest—a bat tenèb (banging of pots and pans). “Get up!” shout the brigadiers. The order rings out sharply, and with it, Nadia’s
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