Tired and Merry Christmas

I am currently reading The Collected Poems of Langston Hughes, edited by Arnold Rampersad and David Roessel. Of the multiple poems in this collection that spoke to me, these two below were the most meaningful. The anger of Hughes in the 1930s and his internationalist outlook are especially interesting considering how we tend to limit writers along national lines.

Tired

I am so tired of waiting,

Aren't you,

For the world to become good

And beautiful and kind?

Let us take a knife

And cut the world in two

And see what worms are eating

At the rind.

Merry Christmas 

Merry Christmas, China,

From the gun-boats in the river,

Ten-inch shells for Christmas gifts,

And peace on earth forever.

Merry Christmas, India,

To Gandhi in his cell,

From righteous Christian England,

Ring out, bright Christmas bell!

Ring Merry Christmas, Africa,

From Cairo to the Cape!

Ring Hallehuiah! Praise the Lord!

(For murder and for rape.)

Ring Merry Christmas, Haiti!

(And drown the voodoo drums--

We'll rob you to the Christian hymns

Until the next Christ comes.)

Ring Merry Christmas, Cuba!

(While Yankee domination 

Keeps a nice fat president

In a little half-starved nation.)

And to you down-and-outers,

("Due to economic laws")

Oh, eat, drink, and be merry

With a bread-line Santa Claus--

While all the world hails Christmas,

While all the church bells sway!

While, better still, the Christian guns

Proclaim this joyous day!

While holy steel that makes us strong

Spits forth a mighty Yuletide song:

SHOOT Merry Christmas everywhere!

Let Merry Christmas GAS the air!

Voodoo Macbeth

Watch the last four minutes of Orson Welles's adaptation of Shakespeare's Macbeth, set in a fictionalized Caribbean world that is clearly Haiti. Featuring an all-black cast, the project was tied to the WPA Theatre Project during the Great Depression. The play features verse for dialogue, much like the original, and is only different in that it features a Caribbean setting and 'Voodoo' instead of European notions of witchcraft. For those curious about scripts and photographs from the play's production, check out this site.

The Idea of Haiti: Rethinking Crisis and Development

The Idea of Haiti: Rethinking Crisis and Development, edited by Millery Polyné, is uneven but useful for general and academic audiences. The text consists of a collection of essays and one phone conversation on Haitian development and the need for new narratives and approaches after the 2010 earthquake. Some essays were quite informative and challenged common notions of Haitian underdevelopment or responses to the earthquake, particularly Karen Richman's nuanced explanation of Protestant conversions in Leogane after the catastrophe. Instead of arguing, like some Western journalists did, that Haitians turned away from Vodou after the earthquake because the lwa did not stop the natural disaster (clearly, these US journalists know nothing about Vodou, as Richman demonstrates), Richman argues that we must see the religious landscape of Haiti as fluid and inseparable as people adopted new religious identities for various reasons, often temporary. 

Understanding and respecting Vodou is one of the central themes of the text (McAlister's excellently researched essay on Bois Caiman as a pact with Satan in the eyes of evangelical Christians was also informative) tied to the need for inclusion of grassroots organizations, the peasantry, and the urban lower classes in government and decisions made by NGOs. In a similar context, arguing for the philosophical underpinnings of Haitian univeralist freedom and the importance of the Haitian Revolution, as well as the detrimental impact of the Western powers, indicates the importance of understanding Haiti's history, positive meanings and contributions of the nation, and how Haiti cannot be solely reduced to a aberration of international standards or crises. Patrick Sylvain's essay buttresses these points, too, focusing on the silence of Preval in the aftermath of the quake as a lost opportunity for fostering Haitian solidarity and national identity. The President's failure to speak to the people was, as Sylvain suggests, a form of violence that materialized in protest, anger, social distrust, and lamentable conditions as NGOs and the US became the real arbiters of authority and providing services in the Port-au-Prince metropolitan area. 

The impact of NGOs on taking away resources from the Haitian state and lacking any real accountability to Haitian citizens is also superbly elucidated by Mark Schuller through his analysis of several camps established after the earthquake for internally displaced people. Moreover, the funding of NGOs and the shift after the Cold War in donors' relationship with NGOs was new information to me, and quite useful for explaining how Haiti became the 'Republic of NGOs. The transformation of Port-au-Prince, also included in the text, was a dry read but the essay on Duvalier's relationship with Kennedy via the Alliance for Progress aid program was an enlightening reminder to the geopolitical and strategic purposes of international aid  the difficulties of delivering that aid to the Haitian state. The author of that essay, Arthus, unfortunately, seems to have a more conservative conclusion that is at odds with most of the other writers, but certainly is in the right for placing part of the burden on the Haitian state for not taking enough measures to ensure compliance with some of the conditions of donors for aid. 

Unfortunately, Yveline Alexis's chapter was the weakest part of the text. It was lacking in enough sources and felt redundant, which is odd given how strong her dissertation on the same subject reads. Regardless, her chapter supports the aforementioned role of remembering the caco resistance as part of Haitian historical memory, just like Bois Caiman, as important in Haitian self-identity and key to local ideas of democracy as rooted in the popular classes. Nesbitt's chapter, alas, was too pedantic for my taste and nothing new from his earlier writings, but useful for introducing new concepts and arguing for Haiti's place in history as part of universal liberation, not as the cause of Haiti's 'ruin' or persistent series of crises. Fischer's essay on Gilden's photography was likewise one of the weaker sections of the text, albeit certainly important for understanding how Haiti is framed by the outside world as exceptional, savage, mysterious, irrational, ultimately working against the possibility of supporting a sovereign Haiti.

For scholars and lay audiences, this is certainly a worthwhile read. The editor's useful introduction places everything into context and the essays, for the most part by Haitians or Haitian-Americans, offer different perspectives that reorient questions of development and what Haiti represents to those more meaningful to Haitians. Instead of blindly supporting NGOs, Western governments, and imperialist or racist readings of Haiti's history and present poverty, one must see Haiti as part of modernity (the incarnation of the radical Enlightenment, to paraphrase Nesbitt) that is a highly complex society in need of multiple solutions (some, seemingly so simple, like formal cadastres). Overall, the text seems consistent with leftist ideas on Haitian development, while some individual essays in the text are more aligned with neoliberal development.

The White King of La Gonave: The True Story of the Sergeant of Marines Who Was Crowned King on a Voodoo Island

Faustin Wirkus's The White King of La Gonave: The True Story of the Sergeant of Marines Who Was Crowned King on a Voodoo Island, begins with an introduction by William Seabrook, probably to add a touch of authenticity. Clearly written to appeal to US audiences with a taste for the primitive and sensationalized tales of 'Voodoo' or African atavism, Faustin Wirkus's narrative (ghost written by someone with more formal education than him) is a self-serving account of the US Occupation and his white savior complex. Although the author does not consider himself a racist, he consistently refers to Haitians as children, refers to Haitian villages as African and archaic, and describes La Gonave (which had about 12 thousand inhabitants during his 'reign') as Edenic, African-like, and mysterious. Playing on white imperialist fantasies of the era and racist notions of Africa and Afro-descended people, Wirkus's text surprisingly avoids some of the sensationalistic accounts of 'Voodoo' that other whites ensured an entrance into US popular culture (except for one occasion, where the author hints at possible cannibalism or human sacrifice). 

For those looking for a historical account of the US Occupation of Haiti (1915-1934), however, the book is full of detail pertaining to the 1915 landing of US troops, caco resistance in the countryside, Batraville's failed attempt to seize Port-au-Prince, and the conditions of the Haitian peasantry. While critical of the Haitian government and US Marines for endeavoring to prohibit 'Voodoo' (which is contradictory, considering how Faustin Wirkus actually breaks up a large Vodou ceremony on the mainland) and for not learning as much as they can about the peasantry to aid them, Wirkus describes the caco bands as terrorizing the countryside instead of seeing them solely as a response to US Occupation. Wirkus desribes in great detail campaigns near St. Marc, Perodin, Petite-Riviere and other inland areas near the Artibonite valley where caco bands were hunted and killed by US Marines and their local gendarmes, trained by the US white officers.  He also visits and spends time in Port-au-Prince, Arcahaie, and Carzal (presumably Cazale, the village where many descendants of Polish reside). He also makes it quite clear he didn't care for the Haitian elite or 'aristocracy' in Port-au-Prince, preferring to spend time with the 'native' peasants and rural population. 

When the text finally covers his time in La Gonave (nearly halfway through), he is placed in charge of the island by the US Commissioner and sees to some important changes. This is where the text is most interesting, since La Gonave's population is described by US Marines (who never ventured into the interior of the island) as being savage, isolated, and unknown. Instead, La Gonave is clearly connected to mainland Haiti. According to Wirkus's understanding, the land is owned by the government in Port-au-Prince, sublet to wealthy Haitians in the mainland, and then worked by tenant farmers, who were often cheated by the tax collectors and other officials of the state. In order to resist this, the peasants of La Gonave, for at least 3 or 4 generations, formed cooperative labor societies, Congo societies, to combine their resources and labor for more agricultural productivity. While only about half of La Gonave's population participated in these labor societies and cooperative groups (according to Wirkus's 'census'), those who were not part of the Congo societies were often barely eking out an existence or took advantage of other peasants through collaboration with corrupt government officials. 

Thus, La Gonave's population were clearly incorporated into the exploitative Haitian political system, but local notions of poer and rule were conducted through cooperative Congo associations in which women were the ultimate authority, appointed as queens. Wirkus describes in great detail the top queen, Ti Menmenne, a squat black woman with dignity and authority. Wirkus, while overstepping his power as a military leader, uses his relationship with top officials in the US Occupation to remove from power corrupt officials, appoint local leaders, and improve infrastructure on the island with a new wharf, a new home for himself in Anse-a-Galets (the main village where officials lived), landing stirps for Marine airplaines, and new seed for the Haitian peasants. For all these reasons, he became popular and beloved by the black 'children,' coronated as their 'king,' which solely referred to his prestige and services for the Congo societies on the island. While they sometimes incorporated Vodou into their rituals, the Congo societies appear to me as being permanent combite societies, something Wirkus surprisingly supported as a step to improving agricultural productivity and natives' happiness. 

Of course, Wirkus claims his successes and coronation as 'king' by the Congo societies on La Gonave led to him being replaced after President Borno visited La Gonave, upset to see him as 'king' of a Haitian territory. Besides praising his rule on La Gonave as benefitting the population, he also describes the 'children' of Haiti as viewing him as wonder worker (because he built a chimney for his home when stationed in Perodin). On the subject of Marine relations with local women, he is quick to avoid mentioning rape or sexual liasons, but was attracted to two women, one a black woman near Perodin and Marie, the 'white-skinned' descendant of Poles from 'Carzal,' who he loses to a Syrian (after the blue shoes he buys for her are taken by the Syrian). On describing local conceptions of skin color, he claims 'pure' blacks of the countryside looked down on mulattoes for being mongrels while describing the light-skinned peasants of 'Carzal' as only marrying other light-skinned people. 

In addition, he does not criticize polygamy in the countryside, nor does he disrespect Vodou ceremonies and local ritual (although, he certainly admits to laughing at how absurd some peasant customs were to him, or suspicions that some Vodou priests and bocor were frauds). Indeed, he even participates in some rituals and seems to respect 'Voodooism' and its syncretic nature as part of the culture and needs of the peasantry (such as the ceremony for Agwe and Erzulie). In that regard, Faustin Wirkus, Faustin II (reincarnated Soulouque, according to islanders in La Gonave) seems to have some respect for Vodou that transcends the usual American garbage and racist notions, yet he also accused Borno or officials in his cabinet of practicing Voodoo. Ultimately, this is an enlightening read on an important era of Haitian history, although sugar-coated and imperialistic. Travel narratives such as these nonetheless provide an important perspective on the US Occupation's impact on the countryside, which certainly was not as positive as this account describes it. Indeed, the writer white-washes his exploitation and abuse of Haitian laborers, and one is probably right to be skeptical of his arrogance and self-praise. 

The Haitian Earth

"But you and I, we is Haiti, Yette."

Of Walcott's Haitian Trilogy, The Haitian Earth is my favorite. While Henri Christophe was the strongest and Drums and Colour the weakest, The Haitian Earth features characters who are not from the revolutionary leaders. This play, first performed in Saint Lucia, emphasizes the peasantry and lower-classes of the Haitian Revolution. The play also incorporates numerous instances of Creole as dialogue, abounds in references to the earth as the heart of the nation, symbolizing the role of the peasantry as the true inheritors of Haiti, and uses a peasant woman as the Chorus. 

References to Haiti's cracked earth, dry earth, and tyrannical rule from Dessalines and Christophe  (who uproot the soil, crush the peasantry) make Pompey and Yette the protagonists of the story, representing the union of black and mulatto (Dessalines is depicted as anti-white and anti-mulatto, similar to the previous plays in the trilogy). Pompey, an ex-slave, works the earth, nurtures it like the Haitian peasantry, while Yette, a mulatto women and former mistress and prostitute in Le Cap, grows to love the Haitian earth and embrace her life with Pompey. Later, she plays an even more important role as the victim of rape by Dessalines and murdered by Christophe for practicing her chienbois spell (something akin to a 'voodoo doll' in this instance), which speaks to a subtle feminist ethos considering how the earth is feminized in the text. 

Nevertheless, despite praising the peasantry (perhaps as homage to Saint Lucia's peasantry), the text does fall in the trap of condemning Haiti to an endless night of political oppression after Toussaint. Much like the other plays in the trilogy, Dessalines (compared to a boar) and Christophe are presented as nothing more than tyrants, Haiti subjected to exploitation and greed, but the plays also fail to explore how European greed and colonialism continued to shape Haiti after 1804. 

It seems as if Haiti, after subjected to a racial 'bloodbath' wherein mulattoes and whites are killed, is trapped in a cycle. Of course, as a work of literature, the play is not about historical accuracy, but the play does read as excessively unfair to Dessalines and Christophe while expressing Haiti's Revolution as tragedy rather than triumph. In some ways, it is quite similar to Carpentier's approach to the Haitian Revolution, yet written to celebrate the rural underclass in a distinctly Afro-Caribbean style, full of the language, music, beliefs and egalitarianism. 

Quotes

Toussaint: The soil itself

Is bleeding, and I can't stop it.

Toussaint: I am remembering civilisation. All those glorious white marbles in your museums, all your Gothic arches, your embroidered books. What do they mean to a slave whose back is flayed so raw that, like a book, you can read the spine?

Pompey: Fold up your hopes to show them to your children. 

Because after him, now come

The angry kings.

God help us men.

Drums and Colours: An Epic Drama

Caribbean poet and playwright's Drums and Colours is an epic encompassing the history of the Caribbean from the days of Columbus to the promises of emancipation and union. Penned for the ephemeral West Indies Federation in 1958, the play emphasizes interracial harmony, anti-colonialism, and peace rather than vengeance. Read in this light, one can understand why some scholars treat Drums and Colours as one of a "conservative" response to the Haitian Revolution, which is one of the more important aspects of the play's plot. 

The Haitian Revolution, like other aspects of Caribbean history, is portrayed as a response to European greed and violence, but is portrayed as excessive or racially exclusive by other West Indians in a later segment of the play, set in Jamaica. Thus, the Haitian Revolution, for bringing about the abolition of slavery, is central to the history of the Caribbean as seen by Walcott, but not inclusive of the multicultural peoples of the region. Furthermore, post-1804 Haiti is represented, as in Walcott's Henri Christophe, as corrupted by greed and violence as Dessalines and Christophe sell Toussaint to Leclerc to seize power for themselves.

In this light, some of the problems of Haiti are seen as part of a pattern in Caribbean history where colonial violence, genocide, and greed work against interracial unity (symbolized by the multiracial Maroon band in Jamaica, the lofty words of George William Gordon, and a multiracial Carnival group in Trinidad) from the earliest days of European conquest, imperial rivalries, and slave resistance. Instances of cross-racial solidarity appear throughout the play, such as the case of a Jew and a slave en route to Hispaniola, and this clearly appeals to a political goal of the West Indies Federation, as well as consolidating the nation. 

Of course, this play also transcends the purposes of political 'propaganda' for its universal contemplation of the meaning of power. Is power only wrought by military means or violence? Is it possible to attain peace? What are the dangers of 'democratic despotism' that Leclerc warns us of during the Haitian Revolution scene? Is a nation better off with a 'strong man' dictator, or with the Enlightenment principles of liberalism? Furthermore, the role of religion in upholding or resisting oppression is a consistent theme given how religion was used to exploit and combat colonial repression, depending on the time and place. These important questions were just as pertinent to the West Indies as anywhere else in the world. 

Henri Christophe: A Chronicle in Seven Scenes

"The cycle will never end. Blood grows where blood is uprooted..."

Derek Walcott's Henri Christophe: A Chronicle in Seven Scenes is an enjoyable tragedy that tells the fall of Henri Christophe's kingdom in northern Haiti. While not historically accurate (Boyer does not appear at all, and the author places most of the blame for the assassination of Dessalines on Christophe), the play uses verse and Shakespearean tragedy to explain the 'ruin' of Haiti at the beginning of independence. 

Greed, ambition, love of self, or whatever else you may call it, brings upon the inevitable end of Dessalines and Christophe as both declare themselves king and place themselves above their subjects. Vastey also appears in the text as a scheming figure who plots for Christophe, and the massacres of the remaining whites in Haiti by Dessalines is also presented as a horrible bloodbath of excessive vengeance. Indeed, Walcott subtly critiques the notion of racial divisions in the multicultural Caribbean, yet the characters in the play are never able to transcend color divisions, even in the grave (a particularly powerful scene near the play's conclusion includes a discussion of this between Vastey and Christophe). 

Thus, greed, ambition, and the conflict for suzerainty over the nation, and the failure to reverse the decay wrought by 13 years of war after the fall of the 'noble' Toussaint Louverture trap Haiti in a cycle of political conflict as generals plot intrigue. In truth, the author romanticizes Louverture as someone who would never declare himself king, and dies gracefully in the Jura Mountains, thereby leaving Haiti bereft of a leader who would allegedly espouse democratic principles and interracial harmony (again, Walcott uses history to suit the ethos of his time, Caribbean decolonisation in the 20th century). Furthermore, religion is presented in an interesting way in this text, as Christophe rejects Christianity and Vodou while Brelle, his archbishop, dies by Christophe's hand. 

Favorite Quotes

"Christophe loves Haiti, like himself, cruelly.

But like a well-intentioned physician, he bleeds

It too much."

"In death, Henri, the bone is anonymous;

Complexions only grin above the skeleton;

Under the grass the dust is an anthology of creeds and skins."

Eroshima

"Incredible! The idea for this book came upon me one day, suddenly. An image. This one: a young couple making love in the city of Hiroshima, the morning of the atomic Bomb, in 1945. The Bomb falls at the very instant they attain orgasm. Eros and Hiroshima. Eroshima. Sex and Death. The world's two oldest myths."

Eroshima is one of Dany Laferrière's weaker novels. While hardly a single narrative (the text shifts to different characters, sometimes famous individuals as well as the autobiographical narrator), the themes of sex and death are explored by the black writer who examines Japan, identity, interracial romance, and the constant threat of destruction wrought by the Bomb. Thus, at the most basic or primordial level, the text is about life and death, creation and destruction. Unfortunately, the novel does not really go anywhere as in other Laferrière novels, but I do love the intertextuality, allusions, and influence this work has one future works, especially Dining With the Dictator and I Am a Japanese Writer, which feature lesbianism, Japanese culture and literature, a group of young women, and even some of the same characters. 

Laferrière's sense of humor is engaging and includes fictionalized versions of famous writers, including V.S. Naipaul, visiting Port-au-Prince with the young women who appear in Dining With the Dictator. Haiku, Japanese tea ceremonies and cuisine, and even Basquiat populate this bizarre and seemingly disjointed novel. As in other tales by the author, the city of Montreal (also, New York City) is the main setting of this story in which the fictionalized version of the author comments on race relations and interracial sex, just as in How To Make Love to a Negro Without Getting Tired. Laferrière's gift for prose also helps carry this novel. Last, but certainly not least, I am impressed by how many objects or persons symbolize the Bomb in this text. It's rich in detail, description, and humor for such a short read. 

Favorite Quotes

"The battle of Zen and Voodoo."

"The first man on the planet was black. The last will be black, too. A Negro in repose."

"The volcanic sexuality of the jungle versus the careful sensuality of Kyoto, Black versus yellow."

"Lennon died so a Negro could make it with a Japanese girl."

"Lao Tsu says that everything comes to he who knows how to stay in bed."

"The fate of Judeo-Christian civilization hangs in the balance, at this very moment, between a black and a Japanese woman born in Los Angeles."

"One of those sunsets whose beauty burns your eyes. A marvel of copper fusion. A show of incredible delicacy created by pollution. There's nothing like smog to create such magnificent sunsets."

"I am interested only in cliches, and the foremost cliche concerning Japan is eroticism."

"The Apocalypse will come, of that there is no doubt, on a magnificent summer's day. The kind of day when the girls are more splendid than ever. It has been said that no one will be recognizable afterwards."

The Enigma of the Return

"Only a journey without a return ticket can save us from family, blood and small-town thinking."

Laferrière's The Enigma of the Return is a mixture of verse and prose on identity and exile for an autobiographical narrator clearly based on Dany himself. After hearing of his father's death, the narrator, Windsor, returns "home" to Haiti and discovers more about himself, his family, and to which 'homeland' he truly belongs. Central to the narrative is one of Aimé Césaire's most important writings, a poem, Notebook of a Return to the Native Land, which greatly enhances this novel if one is familiar with it. Indeed, Laferriere seems to reject the "anger" of Césaire's significant text, and waxes poetic on the meaning of being an exile and the role of memory and childhood. Yet, the text contains some moving satire and critical passages on the state of Haiti, one in which the Haitian elite, the legacy of colonialism, and the Duvalier dictatorship share the blame for the sad state of Port-au-Prince and the countryside. 

In addition, there is more Vodou symbolism and metaphorical allusions to Haitian painting and culture in this text, making it, in my opinion, one of the author's best works since An Aroma of Coffee. Laferrière's ability to capture the beauty of the Haitian countryside, the colors, the dusty streets, and retain his passion for his 'homeland' while also being fully of the icy North is quite impressive (hats off to David Homel's translations). Furthermore, this work provides a sort of response to the Dalembert novel I recently read, coming from the Diaspora instead of focusing on those trapped in the island who have to leave to make a life for themselves. The novel asks some of the same questions about the flight of people to the North, whether or not one can stay and make a life by remaining in Haiti, and what it means to be an immigrant, a traveler, and what does home mean (similar to I Am a Japanese Writer, too). 

Favorite Quotes

"In my dream, Cesaire takes my father's place."

"We're stuck in a bad novel ruled by a tropical dictator who keeps ordering the beheading of his subjects."

"Entire populations travel northward in search of life."

"I miss my childhood more intensely than my country."

"For most people the hereafter is the only country they have any hope of visiting."

"If you're not thin when you're twenty in Haiti, it's because you're on the side of power."

"There are so few tourists in this country we should pay them to stay."

"The Tonton Macoutes of my era had to hide behind dark glasses. Serial killers. Papa Doc was the only star."

"Every family has its absent member in the group portrait. Papa Doc introduced exile to the middle class. Before, such a fate was reserved only for a president who fell victim to a pup or one of those rare intellectuals who could also be a man of action."

"Why stay in this mud hole mixed with shit trampled by crowds hemmed in by malarial anopheles when you could lead a dream life?"

"In the international media, Haiti always appears deforested. Yet I see trees everywhere."

"The owners reside in New York, Berlin, Paris, Milan, or even Tokyo. Like in the days of slavery when the real masters of Hispaniola lived in Bordeaux, Nantes La Rochelle, or Paris."

"Kidnapping has become such a lucrative business that the rich weren't going to miss out on the action for long."

"The night before, I drank some fruit juice from a stall along my way, just to prove that I was still a son of the soil. Nationalism can trick my mind, but not my guts."

"I had forgotten about culture in the provinces, so refined and so musty."

The Other Side of the Sea

"In the possibility of changing life into the dew of hope for all."

Louis-Philippe Dalembert's The Other Side of the Sea, translated by Robert H. McCormick, uses magical realism, Biblical allusions, and Vodou symbolism to tell the story of Port-au-Prince and exile from the time of US Occupation to Titig, or Baby Doc. Falling under what some scholars refers to as the aesthetics of degradation, the novel contains numerous metaphors and breath-taking prose that describe the fetid decay of Haiti's capital city. The 1937 Massacre (which seems to compare it to the Babylonian Captivity as Haitians fled for their lives across the Massacre River), the Duvalier dynasty, and the plight of Haitian boatpeople and the persistent desire to emigrate permeate the text, across time. 

Given how centered the narrative is on the city and the sea, Port-au-Prince (and its gradual decay) emerges as a character in the text that symbolizes the nation, just as Noubot and Jonas, the grandmother and her grandson, symbolize Haiti. McCormick also translates Dalembert's stream of consciousness (maybe that is not the correct term, correct me if I am wrong) sections on the harrowing experience of the Middle Passage in each chapter of the story, connecting the plight of Haitians abroad with that of the dehumanizing Middle Passage. Vodou also infuses the text by drawing on Vodou and African cosmology for "the other side of the sea" and describing a return to Ginen although most of central characters are not Vodou practitioners. 

As for magical realism, it is used with a light touch, and is particularly powerful for satirical purposes when Dalembert criticizes the Duvalier dictatorship or the US government's response to the boatpeople crisis and how the sharks and killer whales feasted on Haitian bodies (again, tied to the Middle Passage and the sharks that followed the slave ships across the Atlantic). This is probably the most powerful and rich book on the breakdown of Port-au-Prince and the family and communities contained therein, torn asunder within and without as the young, the fruit, are forced to leave and the elders, symbolized by Grannie, wither and take the past with them. 

Again, this is consistent with the Biblical themes and reality of decline in Port-au-Prince, as its overcrowded, filthy, and divided residents live a bleak existence and the others, on the other side of the water, are gradually forgotten or forget. Port-au-Prince as Sodom and Gomorrah, if you will, struck by hurricanes, disasters, inequality, and terror from Duvalier, Trujillo, and the US. As a novel, this is quite an interesting literary exploration of Port-au-Prince's history with strong Biblical overtones.

Favorite Quotations

"As for the whites, they would stay in the city for a whole generation. They had serious expressions on their faces. They were arrogant, disrupting our customs without excusing themselves, putting everyone on the military rhythm of their language." (12)

"The trouble with this story was not so much the bitter experience nor the other language over there that made us feel more like foreigners. It was rather staying on the same land. In short, to not really have left" (32).

"The Syro-Lebanese, the Jews, and the Palestinians, having arrived poorer than Job, made their fortune and brought their families over" (32).

"During that time, either you toed the line or his thugs would turn you into a diversion to beat the heat" (41).

"He wasn't part of that group of men who take their house for a hotel-restaurant, only entering to eat, sleep, and yell at wife and kids" (42).

"The entire city was living withdrawn into itself in a fear until then unknown. Formerly so beautiful, the night of the city belonged from then on to silence, one punctuated from time to time by calls for help from a mother, a female companion, a brother whom everyone pretended not to hear. Tongues seemed cast in lead while individual disappearances took place at vespers" (50).

"The city, if you can call it that, this morass where millions of humans live together, and three times as many pigs. All wallowing in the shit. One on top of the other. And that desire to vomit, in the name of God, that never comes to pass. He reels. His gait wavers" (61).

"These two women provided an equilibrium for me that I hadn't known until then. Grannie was the roots, Maite the branch that invited me, every day, toward new adventures in the sky" (96).

"But the city would be plagued for a long time after the events with the aftereffects of that period where an entire family would disappear on a simple anonymous denunciation" (100).

"The government of the Promised-Land-in-Spite-of-Itself wasn't long in reacting, either. It gave the green light to its naval commander, who launched dozens of gunboats filled with soldiers, armed to the teeth, with orders to shoot on sight. By all means possible, the invaders had to be turned away and the local population reassured since the presidential election was drawing near" (113). 

Poinciana

Enjoy one of my favorite standards, Ahmad Jamal's "Poinciana." Vernel Fournier, the excellent drummer, shows how important rhythm is for any trio, and lays down the rhythm in a Latinish style drawing on his Louisiana roots. Anyone who appreciates jazz trios understands the importance of this recording. 

I Am a Japanese Writer

"Born in the Caribbean, I automatically became a Caribbean writer. The bookstore, the library, and the university rushed to pin that title on me. Being a writer and a Caribbean doesn't necessarily make me a Caribbean writer. Why do people always want to mix things up?"

Employing poetic minimalism and his characteristic style, Dany Laferriere has written a meta-textual narrative exploring nationalism and identity. The narrator, a fictionalized version of the author, has thought of a brilliant title, the name of the book the reader holds, and sells the idea to a publisher. The rest of the short text (English translation by David Hormel is only 182 pages) consists of loosely connected reflections, interactions, and seemingly 'random' moments in which the narrator becomes a sensation in Japan and sparks controversy over representation, authenticity, and authorial voice. 

Although he knows little of Japan (or Asia, for that manner) beyond a few writers (the poet, Basho, helps structure the narrative through numerous references and as part of an argument for writing as a universal experience), the narrator meets with a Japanese pop-star, is filmed for a short special by a Japanese crew, meets old friends (who tie him to his past, although its intriguing that the Haitian past is less clear to the narrator), and enjoys reading Basho's poetry while sitting in the tub. 

Although Laferriere occasionally describes Japan (and the stereotypes of authenticity we bear) in less than flattering terms, it is clear that the author is making a larger point about writing and national identity. Instead of defining a writer by their place of birth, race, or even the country they reside in, the readers should "repatriate" them as one of their own, see the connections between literature around the world that transcend language, culture, race, and geography. Interestingly, this is quite meaningful in how we often impose a Haitian label on the works of the author when, in reality, identity is far more complex and Laferriere is more than a "black" or "Haitian" writer. Some of these points made by the author echo earlier sentiments from previous novels by Laferriere regarding identity politics, but seem even more relevant in the 21st century given how transnational and interconnected the world has become. 

While reading this short novel, I could not help but think of Ishmael Reed's brilliant satire, Japanese  By Spring, which is significantly different in style, theme, and subject. Both novels employ Japanese cultural allusions, history, and politics for satire and social commentary. Reed, of course, focuses on academia and the 'culture wars' of yesterday, while Laferriere is more experimental here and pushes against nationalism and singular identities imposed on writers. Nonetheless, both embrace a multicultural future where everyone incorporates something into their culture from other parts of the world and authenticity becomes an illusion. 

As with previous works, Laferriere's novel contains numerous literary allusions, uses the idea of film and photography, retains a sense of humor, and recalls Haiti. Midori and her circle of Japanese girlfriends also bring to mind the young women of Dining With the Dictator, which illustrates continuity and universality. Indeed, one of the more stirring passages in the text, working against claims of Haitian exceptionalism, alludes to Vodou and agricultural work songs of the Haitian peasantry to demonstrate how people of the earth are the same everywhere. Haitian Vodou and painting even show up regarding Bjork and an art museum in Montreal, and more specifically in the nostalgic adolescent memories of the narrator's friend, Francois. In spite of the numerous times the narrator refers to Haiti, it nonetheless buttresses the author's claims on how identity is fluid, transnational, or even multicultural, just as Ishmael Reed's Japanese-influenced novel suggests.

Some Favorite Quotations 

"When someone doesn't go back home for so long, origins lose their relevance. What good is coming from a place if you don't even speak the language?"

"When people start conjuring up their origins, I literally find it hard to breathe. We're born in one spot, and afterwards we choose our place of origin."

"That's another thing I detest: authenticity. A real restaurant. Real people. Real things. Real life. Nothing more fake than that. Life itself is a construct."

"It wasn't news to me that literature doesn't count for much in the new world order. Third-world dictators are the only ones who take writers seriously enough to imprison them on a regular basis, or even shoot them."

"I'm almost proud of knowing a Greek who doesn't know who Plato is. Besides, I can't stand all that propaganda about Greek philosophers--give me an enigmatic Japanese poet any time."

"That's what makes people suspicious of interracial romances: they wonder if it's really them or their culture that interests their partner."

The Dominican Republic and the Beginning of a Revolutionary Cycle in the Spanish Caribbean: 1861-1898

Luis Alvarez-Lopez's The Dominican Republic and the Beginning of a Revolutionary Cycle in the Spanish Caribbean: 1861-1898 serves as a good introduction to the Dominican War of Restoration and its reverberations throughout the Spanish Caribbean. As someone interested in Haiti, this text argues that the fear of Haitian invasion was only a minor factor in Santana and other Dominican elites returning the young nation to the Spanish Empire. The author also provides some analysis of the differing Dominican nationalists and anti-annexation parties, the structure of the Provisional government and its military leaders, and the socio-economic structure of the Dominican Republic during this time.

 

Spanish racism, economic and social policies, etc. pushed the Dominican Republic into a war for its second independence, just as Spanish rule in Cuba and Puerto Rico was threatened in the later decades of the 19th century. Haitian support for the Dominican nationalist movement, fear of Haitian and US expansion in the Caribbean by Spain, and Antilleanism emerge as factors of the Dominican War of Restoration, with significant consequences for the rest of the Greater Antilles. Haiti, unfortunately, is largely excluded from this, but the author does a great job of examining Betances's anti-imperial work in the context of the Dominican conflict, which included Haiti in his vision. The text also dismisses claims that the tropical climate is what really caused Spanish defeat in Hispaniola and uses primary and secondary source material adequately to illustrate how Dominican guerrilla tactics decimated Spanish troops. Cuba and Puerto Rico also played a role in this conflict as a source of funds and troops, which led to solidary work from Puerto Rican nationalists, such as Betances.

 

Overall, an interesting work that is quite suggestive for the Spanish Caribbean. The only significant problem is the Kindle edition's numerous typos and grammatical mistakes, which is the result of poor translation and/or editing.

Massacre River

"Pedro takes heart, convinced that a deep human fervor can unite the people of the low land with those of the highland, just as the poetic areitos of the Golden Flower, the woman of the West, were carried in the quiver of the Cacique of the Cibao, the man of the East."

Massacre River, René Philoctète's novel on the 1937 Parsley Massacre along the Dominican-Haitian border, translated by Linda Coverdale, is an excellent example of the literary Spiralism movement, of which Philoctète helped pioneer. Although most of his writings consisted of poetry, this novel is full of poetic prose that personifies a Dominican guagua, fictionalizes Trujillo's motives as an impossible dream of conquering the Citadel, lists the sounds, colors, and physical attributes of the world to show a fully-fleshed frontier where Dominicans and Haitians lived cooperatively. Using the metaphorical couple of Haitian Adele and Dominican Pedro, who live in Elías Piña, a border town forever shattered by the massacre ordered by Trujillo, the author demonstrates how Haitians and Dominicans lived peacefully, exchanged goods, and, through numerous other residents, even shared land, family, and other resources. Racial and cultural distinctions, though present, were never enough to completely separate neighbors. 

The novel also satirizes Trujillo's myth of Dominican nationality, his attempt to 'whiten' the population, and the creation of the indio identity despite the obvious African ancestry of the Dominican population. Government propaganda, radio broadcasts, and Trujillo's supreme authority allow him to get away with this, just as the shadow of World War II, fasciscm, and US imperialism lingers in the background (the baseball game in Chicago is broadcast on the radio as the Massacre occurs, and Trujillo is likened to Hitler and Mussolini). Trujillo's crackdown on labor is also explored, since Pedro is a union organizer who seeks to combat the massacre and maintain the social cohesion that characterized the frontier before 1937. Thus, Trujillo's dictatorship is depicted as monstrous and a threat to Dominicans and Haitians alike, while the Haitian government profits off the misery of Haitians in Haiti and across the border (the non-response from Vincent's government is horrifically ridiculed by Philoctète, as Haitian officials in the capital party and gorge themselves while Haitians flee for their lives in the Dominican Republic. 

Philoctète accomplishes all of the above in a loosely structured story that, like a 'spiral,' moves back and forth in narration, plot, and characters. Hints of magical realism, foreshadowing, symbolism, madness, and moving, decapitated heads permeate the novel which heighten the dark themes of the novel, which is just as critical of Trujillo as it is of Vincent. Consequently, this is a difficult novel, but one which is full of promise, memory, and hope for a more harmonious Hispaniola. 

Favorite Quotes

"We acknowledge that we were a single people: the people of the island of Haiti."

"The Citadel fled further and further from Trujillo's dreams. But although the phantasm was frightened, the myth was holding its own. 

"There's no need for any more bulletins from the authorities. The whole affair is a done deal. The people have been told enough. The League of Nations will make a fuss, that's understandable, but after a few diplomatic formalities that haven't changed since Cyrus the Great; it will all be forgotten." 

"That every Haitian has a drum in his belly? Every Puerto Rican a fountain in his laughter? Every Cuban a sunbeam in his throat? Every Jamaican rum in his eyes? Every Dominican a heaven between his legs?

"For each Haitian decapitation at the border, a draught of Haitian blood at the masked ball, Field of Mars, Square of Heroes."

"Port-au-Prince didn't bother with ways or means of routine protocol. Or even bluffing, grandstanding, putting up a front. Port-au-Prince didn't go in for hypocrisy, swaggering, righteous wrath, curses, sanctimony, gloating: it was all the same to them, business as usual. An invoice, a bill."

"They have so many things in common, share so many similar wounds and joys that trying to distinguish between the two peoples violates their tacit understanding to live as one."

Haiti, le chemin de la liberté

Arnold Antonin's 1974 documentary, Haiti, le chemin de la liberté, is dedicated to the anti-Duvalier activists. As a scathing critique of Duvalierist repression and economic misery that has worsened conditions in Haiti, Antonin's film includes numerous interviews and video footage of repression and resistance. Also critical of Cold War politics and US support for both Papa Doc and Baby Doc, the film uses media headlines, footage of compas bands (I saw Nemours) associated with the 'good life' of the Haitian bourgeoisie under Baby Doc, and commentary on the foreign corporate control of Haiti's resources and cheap labor to further buttress its anti-Duvalier messages. 

Tonton Makout horrors, crackdowns on Communists, students, workers, peasants, and even right-wing opposition (yes, Antonin's film includes their voice) are also included in this film. In addition, numerous signs, propaganda messages, radio broadcasts, and corruption are shown to display how much power the Duvalier dynasty possessed. Even the Hemo-Caribbean Company is shown in the film, as well as partying tourists who want to make Haiti the "whorehouse" of America. Braindrain, and the typical list of horror unleashed by both Papa Doc and Baby Doc make it into this documentary.

Unfortunately, a surprising and disappointing aspect of the film was its opposition to Vodou, a film described as "archaic" and "irrational." Given Antonin's leftist sympathies and populist message of uniting the opposition's peasant, worker, and upper-class echelons, I was not prepared to hear this. Due to Vodou's infiltration by the dictatorship, one can understand Antonin's less than friendly treatment of the religion, but it came off as disconnected and condescending to the Haitian popular classes. On the other hand, the music of Trio Select, twoubadou, interviews with tortured peasants and peasant movement leaders, Haitian paintings incorporated to explain Haitian history, and rara music illustrates a populist and cultural nationalist outlook. Thus, for all interested in Haitian resistance to the Duvalier regime, this film is a wonderful introduction from a Haitian perspective and mindset that clearly places Haiti in a Caribbean and US foreign policy contexts.

RIP Ornette Coleman

Rest in peace, Ornette Coleman. You were a true jazz legend, whose influence on jazz developments in the 1950s and 1960s was some of the most "out there" yet still accessible music I have ever heard. Who could ever forget the immortal "Lonely Woman?" Or "Ramblin"? The Latin flourishes of "Una Muy Bonita?" One can never forget your ambition and courage in playing the violin, an instrument you had no training it, for jazz improvisation. You will be missed.

Why Must A Black Writer Write About Sex?

"Look at Haitian painting and you'll understand. The landscapes all look like the Garden of Eden. The fruit is too perfect. The fish are too big. The children's smiles are too wide. A dream country concocted to replace the real one."

Laferrière's unconventional novel draws from his own life to reflect on the meaning of success, race, gender, and what it means to be a black writer. Inspired by the success of his debut novel, Laferrière's fictionalized version of himself compiles a list of observations, travel experiences, conversations, and humorous commentary on the aforementioned themes, often critical of black cultural nationalism or the pigeon-holing of black writers (the hilarious dialogues with Spike Lee and Ice Cube are two great example). Unfortunately, Haiti is not an important part of the story, although the author does allude to Haiti for comedic effect and the arts, as well as references to Vodou, African history and religion. 

Given the lack of a plot and the very unusual format of this not quite novel written as a novel, some may not find this work as moving or enthralling as some of Laferrière's other work. Nonetheless, I enjoyed this one just as much as Ishmael Reed's best satirical novels and essays. Indeed, both writers tend not to approach issues of race, class, and gender from a dogmatic perspective, and exploit race and sexuality for hilarious commentary. 

Hero of Hispaniola: America's Fist Black Diplomat, Ebenezer D. Bassett

Christopher Teal's biography of Ebenezer D. Bassett, a prominent African-American who became the US's first black diplomat, is an interesting case study to examine in light of US-Haiti relations. Although the author is not a historian and the text is lacking in Haitian historical analysis, Teal uses Bassett's career in Haiti to show how African-Americans participated in US foreign relations in ways that both supported and undermined US imperialism. 

Representing the US in Haiti during some politically turbulent years in Haitian history, Basset helped avert a military disaster in Hispaniola multiple times. During the civil war under President Salnave, Bassett helped provide asylum and curb violence, as well as encouraging humane and liberal governance under Saget, who succeeded Salnave. In the early 1870s, when Grant pushed for US annexation of the Dominican Republic, Bassett again helped prevent war with Haiti as President Saget's Haitian forces joined Dominican nationalists (such as Gregorio Luperon) in resisting Dominican president Baez, who wanted annexation. Bassett pushed for peace, went out of his way to maintain consul professionalism and rule of law, socialized and formed relationships with all Haitian presidents, defended Haitian sovereignty, endeavored to avoid gunboat diplomacy, and helped shape US and Haitian history.

Due to Bassett's belief in providing asylum, Boisrond Canal survived the butcherous campaigns of Michel Domingue's presidency, and Bassett later served the Haitian government in New York, where he fought through the US legal system against US citizens selling arms and profiting from Haiti's vicious cycle of coups. Bassett also opposed US attempts to bully Haiti into leasing the Mole St. Nicolas as a naval base and denied racist rumors of cannibalism in the 'Black Republic.'

General History of the Caribbean Volume IV: The Long Nineteenth Century: Nineteenth Century Transformations

UNESCO's lengthy, multi-volume General History of the Caribbean series is more than useful for those studying Caribbean history. Combining the best scholarship from historians from the region and the North, the fourth volume adequately covers every significant development in the 19th century Caribbean. Slavery, emancipation, the Haitian Revolution, nationalism, Antillean federationism, the rising influence of the US, indentured labour, and economic changes are covered in this important volume. Given my own personal interests in Haiti, I decided to start reading the series with this volume, and Haiti is certainly included with an entire chapter on the Haitian Revolution from a top scholar (David Geggus). Michel Hector, Jean Casimir, and others also contribute in later chapters on Haitian social structure, economic turmoil, and US economic and political influence. 

Unfortunately, there were a few chapters that may have been better off with additional editing, such as one erroneous assertion that caco resistance to US Occupation in Haiti had over 4 million supporters! That would have been more than the entire population of Haiti at the time, so I assume the author of that chapter made a typo that was not corrected. There also could have been more coverage of religious diversity and Afro-Creole traditions, as well as a superior chapter on Caribbean intellectual history when pertaining to Haiti.

Nonetheless, everything else about the text was an excellent introduction to the important historical developments. As someone who, again, is mostly interested in Haiti, understanding the demographic impact of Portuguese, African, and indentured labor in that era is all relatively new material. Moreover, Central America and Belize are included, areas of the circum-Caribbean world I am woefully ignorant of in the annals of Caribbean history. In addition, the text also includes numerous excellent historical photographs and tables, as well as a valuable bibliography for additional sources. 

The Company of Heaven: Stories from Haiti

Marilène Phipps-Kettlewell's collection of short stories features numerous short stories drawing on the author's own experiences coming from the upper class, with commentary on social relations, religion, poverty, animal rights, sexuality, and identity. Phipps-Kettlewell's short stories illustrate numerous examples of enduring problems in Haitian society while also embracing the land, people, and animals who populate the island. Vodou figures prominently in numerous stories, particularly in a beautiful way for "Marie-Ange's Ginen," reminiscent of Danticat's similarly astounding story on Haitian boatpeople. Strong women also populate the novel, particularly in the manbo, Grande Jesula. Invoking the Romanticist and indigenist phases of Haitian literature, the flora and fauna of Haiti are poetically described and included as characters in the story.

Although some stories in the collection were not exactly my cup of tea, "Marie Ange's Ginen," "Dogs," "Land," "River Valley Rooms," and "At the Gate" are more than worthwhile reads. Phipps-Kettlewell is best when examining memory, family, and the tenants in the apartments owned by the narrator's father, in "River Valley Rooms." The world it recalls is one lost in several ways, as the death of the narrator's father and declining state of her mother perhaps symbolize a lost Haiti.

Like Water For Chocolate

Although I have owned a physical copy of Esquivel's popular novel for several years, I only recently finished reading the short book. A tale of forbidden love during the Mexican Revolution, the novel abounds in culinary delights that will make the reader hungry for more. Esquivel employs magical realism to enhance the story, but the simplicity of the narrative and the lack of more political commentary makes for an endearing read but lacking in the epic story arc characterizing the families in One Hundred Years of Solitude or House of the Spirits, two stellar novels that also use magical realism. Another weak aspect of the novel is the author's use of racial stereotypes of blacks as having natural rhythm, although the novel subtly criticizes racial and gender injustice.

A Poem For Jacques Roumain

Enjoy a short tribute to Jacques Roumain, written by his African-American friend and literary giant, Langston Hughes. I believe this poem and numerous other fascinating aspects of Jacques Roumain's life and work can be found in Fowler's A Knot in the Thread: The Life and Work of Jacques Roumain.

Always 

You will be 

Man

Finding out about

The ever bigger world

Always you will be

Hand that links

Erzulie to the Pope,

Damballa to Lenin

Haiti to the universe