Les marrons du syllabaire

Jean Fouchard's work can be quite frustrating. Sometimes he promises more than he delivers, relies on faulty assumptions or limited sources or his loquacious writing style can become a chore to read. Thinking this case would be different, we read his Les marrons du syllabaire: quelques aspects du problème de l'instruction et de l'éducation des esclaves et affranchis de Saint-Domingue. Too short and consisting of somewhat meandering, brief chapters, the historian endeavored to portray the struggle of our ancestors to attain literacy and education in the hellish slave society known as Saint Domingue. As one probably suspects, the French colonial system was based upon the exploitation of blacks as chattel slaves. Preventing them from challenging that order meant restrictions on the ability of free and enslaved people of color, including prohibitions aimed to restrict literacy and education to whites. Nonetheless, our ancestors, against all odds, did learn how to read and, in some cases, acquire a more than rudimentary education. Since Fouchard wrote this work around the time of the 150th anniversary of Haitian independence, he seeks to celebrate this achievement of our forebears while also, perhaps falsely or inaccurately, portraying free people of color and slaves as always united against the colonial order.

Unfortunately, most of this short book does not really address or explain how slaves and free people of color learned to read. Some likely achieved it through clandestine meetings and schools that have not left behind in terms of sources. Others may have learned the rudiments of reading and writing from priests and "kind" masters. A fortunate few, especially those sent to France for education, received the best education available in those times. The most interesting group of literate blacks, however, were those who already knew how to read and write before leaving Africa. This group, the Islamized or Muslim West Africans, included those who could read and write in Arabic and use Arabic to write local languages. Of this group, Fouchard mentions the case of the familiar Tamerlan plus references to Bornoans in Saint Domingue, interviewed by Descourtilz. Not mentioned, sadly, are the Kongo natives and other Africans who sometimes could read and write in Portuguese. Nonetheless, Fouchard was able to hear direct testimony from poet Roussan Camille that his great-grandfather was literate in Arabic. Indeed, his ancestor left an Arabic engraving in Jacmel that, sadly, has not survived. Still, Camille's testimony is an interesting example of how Haitians with African Muslim ancestors were aware of this past, even though the knowledge was lost. One wonders if Camille's ancestor was a "Mandingue" or perhaps Hausa?

Despite its flaws, Fouchard's study truly does warrant a modern, thorough study of the topic. The question of African Muslims in Saint Domingue and possible legacies in 19th century Haiti has not received a proper analysis. The question of education and literacy among free people of color is also interesting. Indeed, one of our ancestor's had a godfather who was able to read and write. Were literate free people of color in 18th century Bainet and Jacmel simply the products of clandestine "schools" or networks? Were they learning to read and write (or at least sign their names) from other free people of color who taught them informally? And what was, truly, the role of education in the vision of Toussaint Louverture and the Saint Dominguan revolutionaries during the Haitian Revolution? Was Romaine la Prophetesse, who appears to have been literate, able to use this to promote his alleged connection with the Virgin Mary?