Conjugating Hindi

Ishmael Reed's Conjugating Hindi is a hilarious work of satire clearly modeled on his past novels, particularly Japanese by Spring. A story inspired by Indian-American right-wingers like Dinesh D'Souza and the current political climate under Trump, it involves hysterical xenophobia and racism directed against India and its Diaspora after a politically assertive prime minister, Si, is blamed for a destroyed plane. The self-hating and racist Indian conservative commentator, Shashi, is forced to depend on Peter Bowman, or Boa, during this time until the situation cools down.

Along the way, Ishmael Reed inserts himself into the novel (unafraid to mock himself or the wounds of aging on his body), consistently criticizes gentrification in Oakland and rails against the Far Reich presidency (clearly an allusion to Trump), intersectionality, white feminism, and the racist practices of non-white immigrants who leap to join America's oldest pastime: putting down blacks. Reading this novel as someone who has never visited Oakland, it is apparent how devoted Reed is to the city and preserving its past and unique culture. 

While a thrilling and very concise work of satirical fiction, I was a little disappointed by this recent Red novel. First of all, it reads too much like Ishmael Reed's articles in Counterpunch or his social media accounts. While I usually enjoy those, I was expecting something more subtle instead of many lines that almost read exactly like his nonfiction. Expecting more distance between the author and the work, one nevertheless cannot help but enjoy the way Reed inserts himself into the story as well as a character from Japanese by Spring. 

However, the constant references or parodies of Hamilton and other lines inspired by Reed's earlier essays took away from developing the Si storyline. It never really goes anywhere, despite Si threatening a no fly zone over London and international tensions between the US and India. Moreover, Boa's mother is introduced into the story, but disappears, although I would like to think she may have played a role in the killing of Si. Instead of an off the rails wackiness, we get a wacky narrative featuring Maman Brigitte, racial stereotypes, and a growing awareness on the part of Shashi and Boa to their understandings of India, the US, and solidarity between oppressed peoples.

Of course, Conjugating Hindi is still worth reading. It provides a hilarious satirical perspective on the frightening political climate our of time. Reed's numerous rants, expressed through Boa, deliciously skewer white liberal sensibilities, deconstruct gentrification, critique the out of control costs of living in the Bay Area, and unpack the troubled racial, gender, and cultural dilemmas at play in India, the desi communities of the US and African-Americans. Considering the rise of Trump, resurgent alt-right voices, and the demographic shifts in the US, almost everything in this novel is disturbingly possible and relevant. Plus, it brings a smile to this reader's face to see Reed bring back in a clever yet outrageous manner the neo-Hoodoo/Vodun aesthetic. His illustrations accompanying the novel are also entertaining, provocative, and enhance the trickster aesthetic of the work. 

Kenbe l la

While I normally never listen to this kind of music, hearing it several times while in Haiti has left an indelible mark in my brain. It's quite catchy, although "Tranble" is possibly better. I can see the artist's appeal.

Fantasy in D

A later recording of Cedar Walton's "Fantasy in D." Fans of Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers might remember it as "Ugetsu." This 1977 recording, featuring one of my favorite drummers, Billy Higgins, speeds up the tempo and takes the flight into fantasy into new directions. Bob Berg's tenor sax is on fire, perfectly matching the quickened tempo of this live recording.

Saut d'Eau

Saut d'Eau ranks high on the list of serene, tranquil beauty. Although I could not get a good photograph of the two waterfalls on my cheap cellphone camera, the entire area around it is breathtaking. A kind Haitian doctor who was taking some relatives there invited us to join them on the ride from Port-au-Prince on Saturday, and we leaped at the opportunity to see a different part of Haiti. Since I had never been to Mirebalais or the Central Plateau, I was hoping to see some of the town, nearby Saut d'Eau, and the Lake Peligre Dam. However, since we did not leave Port-au-Prince until later in the afternoon, we really only had time to see Saut d'Eau before sunset and enjoy a meal at the nearby restaurant. 

However, it was entirely worthwhile. Driving out of Port-au-Prince, we were witnesses to some of the post-earthquake housing built on the outskirts of the city, beyond Croix des Bouquets. The homes actually look rather nice, although one cannot help but think their great distance from Port-au-Prince proper ensures isolation from employment in Port-au-Prince. After passing through there, we drove up a mountain and enjoyed a mostly even road until we exited Mirebalais. The view of Port-au-Prince from the mountain was spectacular, while Mirebalais offered its quaint charms of provincial Haitian life. The roundabout intersection featured some old government buildings and the city appeared lively. We even stopped by the solar-powered hospital in Mirebalais to check out this joint venture of Partners in Health and the Haitian state. 

And, finally, the main show? Saut d'Eau itself was mesmerizing. Even though the waterfall supposedly did not exist until after the 1842 earthquake, one feels as if one is entering a sacred space that must have been a site of religious pilgrimage to pre-colonial peoples of the island. Once there, local guides will help those who can to climb the waterfalls. I could only go halfway up the waterfall because I didn't feel safe traipsing over slippery surfaces, but the entire experience was unforgettable. After cleansing ourselves in the sacred water, we enjoyed a Haitian meal at the nearby restaurant before packing up and driving back to Port-au-Prince. Although our Saut d'Eau experience was not that of the busy pilgrimage in July, when Ville Bonheur comes to life, seeing this region of Haiti and the natural landscape left an indelible impression in our minds. 

Adventures in Port-au-Prince

Although it could never have equaled Havana, I cannot help but wish I could have visited pre-Duvalier Port-au-Prince. Or even pre-2010 Port-au-Prince. I spent a week in and around the Haitian capital visiting relatives, checking out museums, and enjoying Haitian cuisine. And a quick trip to Mirebalais was entirely worthwhile for an opportunity to enjoy the beautiful view of the capital and the tranquility of Saut d'Eau. However, one cannot escape the dirt, dust, filth, and horrid roads of the Haitian capital. Much of the city appears in need of serious rebuilding efforts, 9 years after the catastrophic earthquake. The overcrowded, cramped quarters of a city filled with concrete hovels and fatra in the streets is so disheartening compared to past photographs of the city, with its gingerbread homes, clean and almost pastoral Champ de Mars, and more interclass spaces. While one should never romanticize the past, especially in consideration of the numerous fires that devastated the city and the existence of slums long before the earthquake, I endeavored to appreciate the city while remaining open-minded about the realities of urban life for much of the world's population in the 'Global South.'

Believe it or not, I actually find much of Port-au-Prince somewhat okay and parts of it must have been beautiful even if its full of concrete buildings and homes which will bake their contents. Many areas are colorful, residents spend much more of their time outside their homes than inside them, and a few areas (like Bel-Air) had some of the remnants of the aged wooden homes which were once numerous. The earlier architectural styles and gingerbread homes are more impressive and intriguing, but I find the city to be pretty, colorful, and lively in many areas. Tabarre, Delmas, Pacot, etc. have nice areas and homes here or there, interspersed in the misery and behind walled enclosures. The pedestrians were either friendly or ignored me, although every now and then I caught some stares (perhaps they thought I was a Hindu or from Latin America, not exactly sure). But traveling with my mother or her relatives seemed to make it clear enough I was a familiar other. Indeed, I think Haitians who heard me speak Creole or French were bemused by the spectacle. Locals at a nail/hair salon in Tabarre appeared to enjoy the presence of my mother, her sister and I, since I was uncomfortable and bored for 3 hours as my mother received a pedicure and manicure. They discussed politics, hair, the lack of kouran, etc. while listening to the radio, watching mediocre French television, or greeting visitors and friends.  

In fact, I never felt unsafe in Haiti, despite warnings from the US about robberies and violence. A somewhat aggressive street vendor who was desperate to sell followed us around Champ de Mars from a careful distance because he knew my mother would eventually break down and purchase one of his paintings. But other than that, people were friendly. Even when my mother was crushing another person as we crammed into a taptap, most were agreeable or entertained by the sight. Locals sometimes stared at me, presumably because they don't see too many foreigners taking taptaps or camions, but if with relatives, I was accepted or a source of bemusement. Indeed, one older man on a camion decided to get into an argument with a young woman about the lack of respect her generation gives to his, and they looked at me while discussing aspects of it (including, dare I say, references to Papa Bush's groping of young women), inviting everyone to participate. 

Visiting some of the museums in the capital was also relatively easy and worthwhile. MUPANAH was perhaps too small in terms of the collection of historical objects and exhibits. Soulouque's crown, the alleged anchor of Columbus's Santa Maria,  as well as various items from the colonial era and revolutionary period were on display. The rest of the museum consisted of various paintings by Haitians, encompassing a diversity of styles and periods. This was a pleasant experience showcasing the nuances and complexity of Haitian painting, not just the folkloric or Vodou-themed works so famous. It was a comfortable, air-conditioned experience that we had to pay for at a discounted rate (somehow, we convinced the staff to only charge us the student rate of admission). The Bureau d'Ethnology was also interesting, although rather small and officially closed when we visited. The friendly security guard let us in so we could walk the grounds, appreciate some of the art on display and read the exhibits about Vodou. 

Perhaps the best museum I visited, however, would have be to Parc Historique de la Canne à Sucre, which was free for us (perhaps the employee was just in a good mood or doesn't charge locals?). Built on part of what once was a colonial plantation, Chateaublond, the descendants of the Auguste family turned it into a museum. A number of objects related to sugar production, the operation of the plantation, rum, and air conditioned rooms provided some interesting context and visual detail as to what some of the large-scale estates of the Cul-de-Sac plain must have looked like. There was also a room full of items and photographs of or pertaining to Jacques Roumain and his family. For those interested in the history of Haiti, what sugar production looked like in the colonial era, or just something to do, this site is definitely worth visiting.

Other things seen or accomplished this time in Port-au-Prince were limited, although seeing Yanvalou again was interesting because the DJ incorporated live percussion seamlessly into his music. Petionville looks like Petionville, and I spent some time at a bourgeois restaurant with an American friend and his circle. His upper-class Haitian friend likely found me amusing, and the feeling is mutual. Next time, I would like to actually go inside St. Pierre Church in Petionville, as well as see Fort Jacques and other parts of Port-au-Prince. Lycee Petion I would also love to see, although I did catch glimpses of it while riding in a car. The Port-au-Prince wharf would also be interesting to see, since I caught snippets of it from afar via camion, but couldn't convince anyone to accompany me. The legendary Iron Market and the main cemetery of the city were also on my list, but, alas, I could not convince any relatives to go there. Besides, some of these areas near the centre-ville looked very rough, with every now and then some old wooden home, small workshops or schoolchildren walking home to suggest its history and vitality. 

Supermarkets and restaurants catering to the middle-class, elite, and international crowds were endlessly amusing. One such place near the airport had a group with an incredibly loud Trinidadian woman. What was this lady doing in Haiti is unknown, but she was definitely a spectacle. Supermarkets had just about everything one could find in the US, and I often spotted "Syrian" Haitians as well as foreigners at these spots. Restaurants outside of the few wealthy areas tended to cater more to the middle class or perhaps comfortable working-class. Their fare was basically just Haitian food, waitresses were kind yet curt, and many suffered from damaged or malfunctioning bathrooms. No biggie! The better ones had hand sanitizer available and at least one functioning sink. The truly amazing thing about Haitian cuisine is how filling small meal portions can be. Hard not to lose weight when traveling down there. 

Younger Haitians were also enamored with trap music and quite religiously follow trends in American popular music, adding another interesting dimension to American cultural influence. Haitian youth I spoke with, like a cousin, loved Cardi B, hip-hop, and just about everything their counterparts in the US or other countries consume. Even though many do not speak a word of English, they enjoy the rhythm, attitude, and cultural capital of American popular music. Outside Port-au-Prince, such as Mirebalais, the only music I heard was compas, but that's another story, since the restaurant by Saut d'Eau kept replaying the same song over and over again (Marie, map marye w, I believe, was the chorus). Talking to one young Haitian in particular was instructive, since we engaged in armchair sociological dialogue about the nature of Haitian social inequality, class, color (I think he called me a mulatto because I had mentioned the bourgeois spaces in Petionville I visited), the Levantines, the political and economic disasters, and the roadblocks to greater involvement of the Haitian diaspora. All in all, a very informative conversation, just as my conversations with a development consultant in Petionville were. After 1986, and again in 2004, Haiti lost opportunities for breaking out of past patterns.

Hopefully the aforementioned rants above illustrate to some extent what Port-au-Prince is like. It breaks one's heart to see the conditions so many endure, but it really is a beautiful island (especially when you leave the capital). Seeing some of the museums, walking the Champ de Mars, visiting relatives, and relaxing were lovely experiences. Nonetheless, I could not help but wish I had seen this city several years ago, perhaps decades, when things had not deteriorated to the extent they have today. Seeing piles of trash with pigs feasting was not a pleasant experience last time I was there, and it was just as shocking today, in 2019. These issues, plus the ongoing fuel crisis made my mother more fearful of her homeland than she usually is, but supposedly that's a common experience for Haitians who have spent too much time abroad and then return to visit relatives. Next time, I will try to see Cap-Haitien and other areas of the country, such as a return to Jacmel. 

Siete Ocho

Checking in from the Caribbean, listening to jazz to pass time in the evening.  

Puerto Rico in the American Century: A History Since 1898

Sometimes the best thing to do when dedicated to the study of a specific nation is to take some time to read works on the nearby countries or places. Taking a little distance (but not too much) can assist with contextualizing your area of interest in a broader way, or perhaps make one think on a larger scale. It may also aid in your research by forcing you to not arbitrarily accept disciplinary or national divisions as written in stone. Recently, Puerto Rico and its diaspora has fulfilled that function for this blogger. Although remaining firmly attached to Haiti and its history, literature, and challenges, Puerto Rico's similar but different place in the world has been useful and interesting to explore. 

While still nothing more than a beginner in the history, literature, and economics of this nearby island, Puerto Rico in the American Century: A History Since 1898 answers many questions in a detailed, systematic manner. Focusing on political, social, cultural, and economic aspects of Puerto Rican history since 1898, Ayala and Bernabe successfully demonstrate the continuity of US imperialism across different phases. Moreover, they integrate the history of the diaspora in New York and the continental US, which is something that should be pursued in future general histories or 20th century histories of Haiti, too. 

While both Bernabe and Ayala are leftists and favor independence, they endeavor to explore the contradictions and nuances of autonomists, independentists, the rise of PPD, and the conflicts around class, proletarianization, US capitalist enterprises, Operation Bootstraps, labor, race, and gender. They do not hide their biases, but are objective enough to consider the works of various intellectuals, political figures, and literary figures on the nature of Puerto Rican identity, development, culture, and nationalism. Strangely, they do not engage with the legacy of Sidney Mintz, whose work undoubtedly shaped the scholarship of the rural proletariat and sugar in Puerto Rico. Nor do they consider religion, but the towering legacy of Mintz or a Gordon K. Lewis demands their critical insight. 

However, the most useful aspect of the book lies in its bibliographic essay and footnotes. A treasure trove of sources can be found, which facilitates future reading on specific themes, historical figures, or topics. Since this blogger is mainly interested in Puerto Rican history after 1898, and this incredibly detailed overview covers most aspects of the period, I now know where to look for other sources. Moreover, it has shaped my larger understanding of the question of sovereignty, nationalism, interwar intellectual discourse in Haiti, and the meaning of a Puerto Rican model as Operation Bootstrap supposedly exemplified. All in all, a very accessible history of an island that is distinct yet reminiscent of "home." 

For Joseph Jarman

In light of the recent passing of Joseph Jarman, below is a selection of an essay by this blogger about the Art Ensemble of Chicago and AACM. Rest in peace...

Founded in 1965, AACM, under Muhal Richard Abrams’s guidance and direction, connected a number of African American musicians looking for new opportunities and alternatives to the commodification of black creative music. A number of similar jazz collectives dedicated to communitarianism arose in St. Louis, Los Angeles, and other cities around the same time, including the Black Artist Group, which often collaborated with AACM. AACM then established a voting system and structure which also defined itself in relation to Chicago’s South Side, as well as a commitment to creative music.^[2] According to George E. Lewis, AACM’s communitarian ethos also included collaborations with a number of other cultural organizations among African Americans, particularly Jeff Donaldson’s collective of black artists who explored African and African American styles for a distinct black aesthetic.^[3] Moreover, members of AACM also retained connections with the Organization of Black American Culture and the Affro-Arts Theater through Phil Cohran, an early member invested in promoting black cultural heritage through music and theater.^[4] Cohran’s involvement with the community-based Affro-Arts Theater attracted Gwendolyn Brooks, Haki Madhubuti, and Stokely Carmichael while contributing to culture building with music, dance, and classes for women, men, and children.^[5] Indeed, Ronald Michael Radano observed, “The AACM’s achievement as a stable, working organization could not have come about without a strong commitment from its membership, and that commitment surely would not have developed without inspiration from the black-rights movement.”^[6] Without the atmosphere of black activism and a political climate demanding self-determination, self-definition, and self-reliance, the AACM may not have been born or survived to become a fixture of Black Chicago music and culture.

In Chicago, Sun Ra and his Arkestra in the 1950s took jazz into different directions like the aforementioned artists. Adding his interests in Afrofuturist and ancient African history references and early use of electric instruments for his soundscape, Sun Ra’s Arkestra included Phil Cohran, who later became a member of AACM.^[7] Sun Ra’s band also used costumes, theatrical components to performances, space chants, multiple drums, and a larger mythos of “Great Black Music” which encompassed African, Latin, African American, Asian, and European styles. “India” from the Arkestra’s Super-Sonic Jazz, for instance, experiments with electric piano, exotica, and the eclecticism found in the works of the Art Ensemble of Chicago. However, Art Ensemble members usually cited the influence of Albert Ayler, Coltrane, or Cecil Taylor rather than Sun Ra.^[8] Age differences as well as Sun Ra’s move to New York in 1960 resulted in him having less influence upon AACM. Furthermore, during his Chicago years, Sun Ra was a more conventional player who did not embrace atonality and free-form structures as he famously did in later decades.^[9] However, his use of extramusical art forms of performance and visual art, in addition to esoteric writings, aesthetic spirituality, and embrace of African history shaped the course of Chicago jazz musicians just as it reflected larger Afro-modernist sensibilities of jazz musicians elsewhere.

Significantly, the authoritarian structure of the Arkestra also distinguished it from AACM and Art Ensemble. The participatory and egalitarian organization of AACM differed from the extreme practices of Sun Ra, who often punished Arkestra members who disobeyed his absolute authority.^[10] Punishment sometimes took the form of house arrest, sometimes physical force for those who disobeyed his rules of conduct, which included prohibition of drugs, alcohol, cavorting with women, or missing rehearsals.^[11]  The Arkestra’s communal living further distinguished AACM and Sun Ra, although the cooperative economics practiced by Art Ensemble of Chicago as a result of their time spent in France shows a shared value of solidarity.^[12] Furthermore, Sun Ra’s Arkestra did not permit membership of women except for vocalists. Even then, June Tyson was subject to occasional exclusion and women instrumentalists were not used. Even the Jazz Composer’s Guild, a short-lived organization of avant-garde artists in New York City, fell apart partly due to Sun Ra’s opposition to Carla Bley’s membership and the question of interracial collaboration on equal terms.^[13] Thus, Sun Ra’s views on gender limited a more democratic cooperative of jazz musicians.

Like Africobra, Art Ensemble of Chicago is a collective, and sought to connect their creative music to a tradition of “Great Black Music.” The group similarly incorporated a vast array of African, African American, and Caribbean musical traditions and styles into their sound. “Ja,” from their 1979 release, Nice Guys, uses a reggae rhythm and Jamaican accents in the vocals, for instance. “Theme de Yoyo” from Les Stances A Sophie, featuring then-wife of Lester Bowie, Fontella Bass, used funk musical features within an utterly unique Art Ensemble of Chicago aesthetic. With Bass singing over a funky bassline, the rest of the band maintain an unstable groove that threatens to fall apart despite its repetition, retaining avant-garde tonalities and hinting at free-form structures within a funk vamp. Art Ensemble of Chicago similarly used the blues form as homage to black musical traditions and Chicago’s history. “Bye Bye Baby” from Certain Blacks is a blues with harmonica, but retains space for individual expression of avant-garde soloing. The titular song from 1970 LP Certain Blacks includes Chicago Beau as well as lyrics on black individual expression, asserting “Certain blacks do what they wanna.” This can be interpreted as not only a reference to Black militancy of the time, but a defense of individual and group difference against black or white critics and conformists opposed to Art Ensemble of Chicago’s eclectic tastes and presentation. Trumpeter Lester Bowie, for example, defended the Art Ensemble’s musical expansiveness against Wynton Marsalis because they embraced tradition and the future rather than remaining stuck playing the same chord changes of the bop era.^[14] “Get In Line,” another composition with lyrics, is a critique of the French critics who only perceived the band in terms of racial politics and exoticism, not as creative artists.^[15]

Some members, such as Famoudou Don Moye and Malachi Favors Maghostut, used face paint and body art to add a visual component to the band’s performances. Lewis argues that the use of masks, body paint, a variety of “little instruments,” and the multi-instrumental virtuosity of the band created an assemblage of sounds and textures.^[16] The face paints, masking, and African dress additionally emphasized the role of musicians within many African cultures as a seer or griot. Like Phil Cohran’s Artistic Heritage Ensemble, which connected themselves to the griot tradition of West Africa, Art Ensemble of Chicago used African signifiers to affirm the communitarian ethos of AACM and reflect their understanding of Black Aesthetics.^[17] Becoming an assemblage, or a multi-layered approach to music and art within a collective that tied itself to community support, education, and celebrating African American culture and history, Art Ensemble resembles Africobra. Art Ensemble of Chicago also reinterpreted familiar materials from popular culture, like Africobra.^[18] Both groups used an assemblage of poetry, jazz, face paint, and musical styles from popular music or the past to world music.

However, the concept of “Great Black Music” or a “Black Aesthetic” was never defined in narrow or essentialist terms, which allowed for individual expression in both groups. Art Ensemble, for instance, included a diversity of performance attire and musical styles in their performances, as well as incorporating aspects of European and world music into their repertoire. Lewis describes Art Ensemble of Chicago’s sonic, visual, and multi-media diversity as a way of asserting a particular black cultural identity within a universal medium, music.^[19] The performative aspects, individual stylistic variations, cooperation as a unit, and cooperative economics allowed the group to persist, particularly when the band resided in France.^[20] As Kelley suggests, the use of poetry, humor, painting as well as other elements of the Art Ensemble’s performances and recordings affirm a radically different structure of a jazz band that contributed to the Black Arts Movement without being overtly political or essentialist.^[21] Indeed, there may also be elements of Afrofuturism in Art Ensemble’s allusions to futurity in their slogan or Lester Bowie’s lab coat worn during performances. As a result of combining futurity and tradition, Art Ensemble’s revision of the past and imagining of the future endeavors to resist traditionalism. By resisting the traditional jazz-oriented club performances, they also asserted black self-definition and self-determination to resist commodification of their art form. Thus, in spite of Amiri Baraka and Frank Kofsky’s interpretation of free jazz as linked to black nationalism, Art Ensemble shows a more nuanced portrait of the jazz avant-garde’s support of black cultural aesthetics and community art without necessarily following the narrower forms of black cultural nationalism.

In short, AACM and the Art Ensemble of Chicago exemplify a form of Chicago Black Arts Movement aesthetics that eschews essentialist notions of identity, undemocratic organizations, and commodified art removed from communities. Drawing on earlier generations of jazz activism and aesthetic sensibilities which encouraged the Civil Rights era, Art Ensemble of Chicago champions an innovative performance style within a black aesthetic favoring individuality through the collective. Like Glissant’s metaphor of the rhizome for explaining identity without grounding black cultural movements in a totalitarian or singular root, they respect black musical traditions and heritage, but also retain visions of the future in sight. The sense of individual expression is not lost, lending credence to Glissant’s notion of identity through relation as each member of the collective shapes and refines the other. Jeff Donaldson and the members of Africobra practiced a similar approach to black cultural identity and the visual arts. Donaldson’s TransAfrican aesthetic, which combines elements of jazz and popular culture, and African art forms, shares the Art Ensemble of Chicago’s rhizomatic model of cultural and artistic expression. The democratic form of these two groups likewise contributed to their longevity because members were able to express their own unique styles, pursue their own ideas of performance, and retain connections with the communities they seek to serve.

---

[1] Paul Steinbeck, Message to Our Folks: The Art Ensemble of Chicago (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2017) 32.

[2] George E. Lewis, “Expressive Awesomeness: New Music and Art in Chicago 1965-75,” in The Freedom Principle: Experiments in Art and Music, 1965 to Now (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2015), 116.

[3] Clovis E. Semmes, “The Dialectics of Cultural Survival and the Community Artist: Phil Cohran and the Affro-Arts Theater,” Journal of Black Studies 24, no. 4 (1994): 449.

[4] Ibid, 457.

[5] Radano, New Musical Figurations: Anthony Braxton’s Cultural Critique (Chicago: University of Chicago Press), 91.

[6] Clovis E. Semmes, “The Dialectics of Cultural Survival and the Community Artist: Phil Cohran and the Affro-Arts Theater,” 452.

[7] George E. Lewis, A Power Stronger Than Itself: The AACM and American Experimental Music (Chicago: University of Chicago Press), 160.

[8] Ibid.

[9] Ingrid Monson, Freedom Sounds: Civil Rights Call Out to Jazz and Africa, 310.

[10] Paul Szwed, Space Is the Place: The Lives and Times of Sun Ra (New York: Pantheon Books, 1997), 117-118.

[11] Steinbeck, Message to Our Folks: The Art Ensemble of Chicago, 80.

[12] Benjamin Piekut, "New Thing? Gender and Sexuality in the Jazz Composers Guild." American Quarterly 62, no. 1 (2010): 25-48, 37.

[13] Nanette de Jong, “Women of the Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians: Four Narratives” in Black Women and Music: More than the Blues (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2007), 135.

[14] Paul Steinbeck, Message to Our Folks: The Art Ensemble of Chicago, 104.

[15] George E. Lewis, “Expressive Awesomeness: New Music and Art in Chicago 1965-75,” in The Freedom Principle: Experiments in Art and Music, 1965 to Now, 119-120.

[16] Ibid.

[17] Ibid.

[18] George E. Lewis, “Singing Omar’s Song: A (Re)Construction of Great Black Music,” Lenox Avenue: A Journal of Interarts Inquiry 4 (1998): 85.

[19] Paul Steinbeck, Message to Our Folks: The Art Ensemble of Chicago, 80.

[20] Kelley, “Dig they Freedom: Meditations on History and the Black Avant-Garde,” Lenox Avenue: A Journal of Interarts Inquiry 3 (1997): 21.

[21] Ibid, 22.

Puerto Rican Obituary

This classic poem by Pedro Pietri holds up very well as an expression of "Nuyorican" literature and the New York City of its era. In light of the importance of Colon and Vega's earlier works in understanding the working-class and impoverished conditions of Puerto Rican migrants in the American metropolis, Pietri captures that oppressive experience brilliantly with the postwar generation. New York comes horrifically to life in the poems of Pietri, whose justifiable rage against the Vietnam War, the exploitation of workers, easy credit rip-offs, public housing projects and US imperialism demand the reader's attention. It is indeed a long, non-profit ride from Spanish Harlem to Long Island cemetery. 

CPUSA

Although problematic like most documentaries, this somewhat sympathetic history of the Communist Party is full of interesting anecdotes about the experiences of its members. Furthermore, the documentary recognizes how the Communists played a pivotal role in numerous progressive social causes, particularly during the Depression. For that reason alone, closer scrutiny of the CPUSA is required. Of course, my reasons for any interest in it at all is related to its connections with Caribbean organizations and figures. 

Operation Bootstrap

A short video on Puerto Rico which praises Operation Bootstrap. It appears to be propaganda for the PPD and Operation Bootstrap, and presents it as being part of the economic miracle of the island and a model for economic development across the Global South. Since Haitian intellectuals like Cary Hector have called attention to the Puerto Rico model for understanding transformations like the rise of garment assembly factories in Port-au-Prince, a look at Operation Bootstrap in Puerto Rico is useful. Ayala and Bernabe show how it did little to weaken Puerto Rican reliance on the US, but it did play an important role in industrialization. This video, clearly a product of its time, ignores these contradictions but exemplifies the cultural politics of the PPD at the time (praise Puerto Rican culture or identity while maintaining a dependent relationship on the US). 

Haiti in the 1950s

This above video, directed by Leonard Forest in 1957, not 1953, depicts numerous aspects of Haitian social, economic, and cultural life worthy of our attention. It also depicts how the Haitian government and economic elites in Haiti wanted their country to be represented in Canada. For instance, the film touches upon Canadian involvement in mining, Haiti's coffee and sisal exports there, Francophone ties with Quebec, and Haiti's tourist sector. Believe it or not, at the time, Haiti was one of the tourist hotspots in the Caribbean, and the film promotes it through video footage of nightclubs, mention of new hotels, and Haiti's cultural displays (mostly music). A French version was also released, Bonjou' soleil which features Jean Price-Mars. 

Unsurprisingly, then, the film focuses on folklore, dance, and music while also promoting an image of Haitian industrial development, dams, economic diversification, and tourism. Intriguingly, although presenting Haiti as Francophone in some respects, it also acknowledges the Creole-speaking majority and literary developments in the language, particularly a segment of a scene from a play of Morisseau-Leroy. The folkloric dancers must have been from some of the formally trained troupes in Port-au-Prince, but, sadly, none are identified. However, for those who have read subsequent studies of the period, this short-lived belle époque of Haitian culture and economy was built on glass, and crashed spectacularly with the fall of Magloire and the rise of Duvalier. The cultural nationalism plus modernization favored by the likes of Price-Mars and others failed.

Stanley Crouch

Stanley Crouch speaking at a bookstore in Washington to promote one of his books. A certain autodidact who runs an amazing online resource can be clearly seen sitting in the front row. Crouch is a great curmudgeon whose writings, criticism, and wisdom excite and infuriate. 

A Puerto Rican in New York and Other Sketches

Although I must confess a great ignorance of Puerto Rican and Latinx literature, Jesus Colon's A Puerto Rican in New York and Other Sketches is an excellent collection of vignettes of Puerto Rican life in the American metropolis. A pioneer in English Puerto Rican migrant literature, Colon was also of African descent. Hence, my reason for reading his experiences in New York were related to my larger interests in Afro-Caribbean radicals of the first half of the 20th century. Winston James, for instance, includes Jesus Colon in a chapter on "Afro-Hispanic" radicals in his magisterial Holding Aloft the Banner of Ethiopia: Caribbean Radicalism in Early Twentieth Century America, but sets up a potentially problematic dichotomy between Colon and Arturo Schomburg. 

Colon, according to James, was mainly interested in class, Puerto Rican, and Latin American struggles, which is no surprise considering Colon's early contact with socialists and Communists. Schomburg, on the other hand, is depicted as black nationalist and the anomaly, at least in terms of the political inclinations of Puerto Ricans of African descent. Colon, supposedly, represented a more typical experience for Puerto Ricans engaged in radical politics and the Communist Party of the interwar years. Any overt black nationalist politics is supposedly an aberration for Puerto Ricans in New York. However, this dichotomy implies race consciousness must lead to a form of black nationalist or "race first" politics.

Nonetheless, when one peruses the pages of A Puerto Rican in New York, one cannot escape the constant references to racialization, anti-black discrimination, and the interplay between race and class. While Colon did not allude to Garvey or black nationalist politics, his roots among the artisans and working-class of Cayey and San Juan, which would have been comprised mainly of African-descended people, likely indicates a more nuanced view of the tangled relationship between race and class. A Puerto Rican in New York is definitely proletarian literature, identifying the Puerto Rican experience in New York entirely with anti-imperialism, working-class cultures, ghettoization, and the larger proletarian world of New York. And this proletarian world included Vito Marcantonio's Puerto Rican supporters, Jewish radicals, Panamanian West Indian workers, African Americans, and Latin musicians.

Experiences with reading in bed or the bathtub, leftist camp groups, strikes, monolingual Spanish-speaking Puerto Ricans getting lost in the city, and more abound in the book. And while African-Americans and West Indians are clearly distinct from Puerto Ricans, I don't think James was entirely fair to Colon and his growing racial consciousness as an "Afro-Latino." The mainly black and mulatto workers, artisans, tabaqueros and working-class Puerto Ricans of Brooklyn were certainly aware of their commonalities with African-Americans and West Indians, but those rooted in the early Puerto Rican labor movement, like Colon, would have, not surprisingly, been attracted to the socialists and Communists. Others, like Schomburg or M.A. Figueroa, turned to Garvey and the UNIA. Colon himself was involved with the NAACP and civil rights campaigns. His penetrating "Little Things are Big" make it demonstrably clear that he knew he was black. Yet, like the Anglophone West Indians, Colon remained firmly attached to his colonized homeland, Puerto Rico. Black and Latino, Afro-descendant and Latin American. ANd clearly he saw US rule, plus the centuries of Spanish colonialism, as part of the ongoing oppression of Afro-Puerto Ricans in the island and New York. 

Fringe

Fringe is the X-Files for the 9/11 era. Clearly influenced by X-Files in its early seasons, the show developed its own unique approach to the X-Files format. Further, the show's writers were far better at developing story arcs and preventing it from becoming too convoluted, in spite of some rather absurd science fiction mumbo jumbo: parallel universes, alternate timelines, and even soul magnets. Now, I will have to be on the prowl for another endearing and quirky science fiction series with the soul of Fringe.

Although the series started off rocky in the first season, and took some missteps in the fourth and fifth seasons (why would you remove Peter from several episodes of the fourth season when his relationship with Walter was part of the show's moral and emotional development?), its second and third seasons were spectacular science fiction television. Double agents, conspiracies, the conflict between the prime and parallel universes, and the perfect antagonists, like David Robert Jones, made for suspenseful television. Sure, Astrid is basically a glorified maid. Yeah, season 4 was clunky and season 5 was, while entertaining, lacking in the monster of the week format of the show's earlier seasons. But, one must acknowledge the creativity of the show in its willingness to explore all kinds of fringe science and take risks on the character development. 

Fringe was an amazing television experience for examining how science evolves faster than our morality, so we're forced to see Walter Bishop come to terms with the consequences of his actions. Watching Walter's relationship with Peter and, in turn, Olivia's relationships with the two were beautiful occasions. Peter and Olivia still aint nothing compared to Scully and Mulder, but their blossoming relationship nicely matches our growing affection for the world of Fringe. Shoot, now I want to go to Boston because of this show. Leonard Nimoy's presence, even though he does not appear in many episodes, also brought a degree of SF culture and history to the show, especially providing humorous moments such as Olivia's consciousness under the control of William Bell. Seeing Nimoy's character's other side in the fourth season, a result, ultimately, of the lack of Peter in that timeline, was likewise an interesting way to reset the show. X-Files has bequeathed to posterity an excellent science fiction show.

Nytilo Nytilo (Little Bird)

Although lacking the heavenly voice of Miriam Makeba, this exceptionally beautiful interpretation of Xhosa song "Nytilo Nytilo" is too gorgeous.