Un campesino dominicano

The following is an entertaining décima by Juan Antonio Alix (posted at  https://poesiadominicana.jmarcano.com/). Essentially a list of words in Haitian Creole with their Spanish equivalents, the poem is interesting from a linguistic perspective. It's also intriguing to see the manner in which Haitian Creole is written by Hispanophones. Indeed, the Dominican Spanish term for our djon-djon is apparently casabe de bruja...Even if the campesino expresses bewilderment at the Creole language, he is able to communicate enough to sell andullos. 

Un campesino dominicano

que estuvo en Haití vendiendo unos andullos y

a su regreso tuvo una entrevista muy curiosa

con el que suscribe.

(A dos amigos puertoplateños)

Del campo un dominicano 

que pasó a vender andullos, 

en dos borriquitos suyos 

a no sé qué pueblo haitiano, 

así me contó: ¡critiano 

ni Dio comprende esa gente! 

Caicule que laguaidiente 

allá le dicen tafiá, 

a lo jalitao llengá 

y penchó ai pan caliente.

Los frijole colorao 

puá rus lo llaman allá, 

a la brujería guangá 

y a lo sombrero chapao. 

Malfiní é guaraguao 

lo guandule puá congó 

Bonyé le dicen a Dio, 

a lo brujo lugarú 

y a lo jefe dei judú 

le dicen papá Bocó.

Lo memo la macarela,

la titulan macrilló

lo molondrone gombó

y difé a la candela.

A la paila o casuela

le dicen allá shodié;

a lo sapato sulié,

puesón ai peje o pecao

y en siendo el arró graniao

le dicen durí grené.

Yo andube toitico Haití

y no encontré un condenao

que dijera bacalao

sino todo la murí.

Al arró llaman durí,

a la cebolla loñón,

a lo cochino cochón.

Lo fideo vermichel

a la sal le dicen sel

y creviche ai camarón.

En siendo peje salao

le dicen puesón salé

como banan bucané

llaman ai plátano asao.

Pero siendo sancochao

le dicen banan bullí,

a la ñica saloprí

a lo sajice pimán,

lo mamone cachimán

y a lo niño anfán pití.

Al agua le dicen gló,

ai queso llaman fromalle,

una rí e juna calle

y finí que se acabó;

allí nadie dice fó

como nosotro jaquí,

cuando viene a la narí

ei bajo de aigún parrá!

el haitiano dice allá:

«¡A la peté qui santi!»

Un sancocho, e ebullón

ñon eguille es una aguja

como ei casabe de bruja

ello lo llaman llonllón.

A lo caibone charbon,

ai quitasoi, paresol,

guanábana, corosol,

ñon chandel e juna vela;

y a la maidita viruela

le dicen pití verol.

Al aceite llaman huil,

aguacate sabocá,

y a la piña ananá

como porcanel, cajuil;

allá perejil, persil,

el melao allí siró,

lo mameye, abricó,

la yuca llaman mañoc,

a lo gallo viejo coc,

y ai sapo llaman grapó.

Lo que aquí llaman letrina

por allá e cae brulé,

como si dijera uté

la casa quemada en ruina,

donde allí la chamuchina

o gente de poca nota,

entra allí y se ñengota

en un brulé o aposento,

y se despacha al momento

dejando allí su pelota.

Conque saque uté la cuenta

siño Juan Antoño Elí,

y dígame si en Haití

cuaiquiera no se revienta;

en eso de compra y benta

yo le pueo asegurai,

que si no sabe coitai

de esa gente ei lenguaraje,

ni la toitilla dei biaje

uté no la pue sacai.

Jata otro día, con su licencia.

Lisette quitté la plaine

A fascinating presentation on an early piece of Haitian Creole music from the mid-18th century by Jean Bernard Cerin. Anything about the origins of our language and early musical and literary uses of it are worth exploring.

Haitian Creole and Education in the US: An Annotated Bibliography

 1. Joseph, C. M. “Haitians in the U.S.: Language, Politics and Education.” In A. Spears & C. Joseph (Eds,) The Haitian Creole Language: History, Structure, Use and Education (pp. 229-248). Lexington Books. 

Carole M. Berotte Joseph’s chapter provides an overview on the role of Haitian Creole in the context of Haitian immigration to the US. According to Joseph, Haitian Creole remains largely an oral language among Haitians in the US. French retains its prestige among immigrants, however. Historically, in the case of monolingual Haitian Creole speakers, it was a struggle for teachers to realize Haitians speak Creole, not French. Indeed, an ongoing stigma attached to Creole and the paucity of instructional materials and Creole-speaking instructors has led to Haitian bilingual programs often being of poor quality. Another obstacle faced by Haitian Creole-speaking students was their classification as simply African-American, which carried assumptions of English-speaking backgrounds. This, unfortunately, led to many Haitian students not receiving the language support they need. Furthermore, fewer bilingual programs in Creole are now available in New York City, Boston or Miami. Ultimately, Joseph’s chapter attests to the unequal status of Creole in both Haiti and the US, where many Creole-speaking students either did not or do not receive ESL services. Lamentably, this contributes to limitations on developing full fluency or literacy in Creole. 

2. Zéphir, F. (1997).  “Haitian Creole Language and Bilingual Education in the United States.” Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural Development (Vol. 18, Issue 3), 223-237. 

Flore Zephir, “Haitian Creole Language and Bilingual Education in the United States”

Zephir’s article passionately argues in favor of first language instruction for Haitian students. Citing 1992 research, the author claims Haitian students were the third largest minority group in NYC public schools (Zephir, 1997). Moreover, the school system was guilty of a failure to recognize the linguistic and cultural diversity of Black populations in the US. Haitian students were seen as Blacks and not placed in programs that would have helped by using the Creole language. In fact, Haitians face triple discrimination as Blacks, for coming from the Global South, and for speaking Creole, which is often not seen as a legitimate language (Zephir, 1997). In order to address the issue, Zephir argues that schools must stop assuming Haitian students are African-Americans, Creole must be accepted as a fully legitimate language, and children should receive home language instruction. According to research, the use of the students’ L1 in instruction can lower the affective filter, so that learning can occur. More comprehensible input would be available for students by having teachers with knowledge of the culture and sociolinguistic reality of Creole-speaking students. Thus, according to this author, Haitian Creole speakers continue to face linguistic discrimination that partly mirrors the lower status of Creole in Haiti. Similarly, the loss of the students’ L1 is inferred due to the lack of home language instruction, implying most students probably never develop full literacy in Creole.

3. Cenat, M.L (2011). “Myths and Realities: A History of Haitian Creole Language Programs in New York City.” Journal of Haitian Studies, Vol. 17, No. 2, pp. 73-91

Cenat’s research interprets the history of Haitian Creole programs in New York City. Beginning with the controversial Bernard Reform of 1979 in Haiti and the struggles of Haitian Creole to gain full inclusion, Cenat then summarizes the debate on Creole genesis (Cenat, 2011). Due to the debate on the relexification hypothesis and the “exceptional” status of Creole languages, some view the tongue as incapable of being a significant instructional tool. This background is relevant for understanding the early struggles of Haitian students in New York. Initially, schools used French with Haitians in their language policies. Later, in the 1980s and 1990s, Haitian Creole increasingly won support through the organizing efforts of activists, teachers, organizations, and academics, like linguist Yves Dejean (Cenat 2011). This led, in 1981, to the Haitian Parent-Teacher Training Project, which worked with Limited English Proficient Haitian students by preparing Haitian educators and engaging in outreach to Haitian parents. Later, in 1993, the Haitian Bilingual Educational Technical Assistance Center (HABETAC) was founded at the City College of New York. Unlike the Haitian Parent-Teacher Training Project, HABETAC supported schools serving Limited English Proficient Haitian students, often targeting Haitian teachers. A number of public schools in the city even offered bilingual programs, although many Haitians believed Haitian students were still not receiving enough programs to accommodate them. This led to a class action lawsuit in 1996, filed against the Board of Education and the New York State Education Department. While the lawsuit was eventually stalled, many Haitian Creole bilingual programs began to disappear by the end of the 1990s. According to Cenat, today only 3 NYC public schools have bilingual Haitian Creole programs. This decline in the number of bilingual programs is accompanied by a restructuring of high schools that has led to several lacking enough Haitian students for a bilingual program. Then, the closure of HABETAC further contributed to the decline of bilingual education for Haitians. Haitian families were now left without a center. Meanwhile, the support for the language rights of Haitian students was revitalized by grassroots groups like Flanbwayan, Kongo and Gran Chimen Sant Kiltirel. The article’s history of Haitian Creole programs illustrates how Haitian Creole continues to face exclusion, discrimination and marginalization in education. The Haitian language occupies a position vis-a-vis English that, once again, mirrors its position with regard to French. Language loss, on the other hand, or at least the failure to develop full literacy, is likely to occur since there is not adequate support for instruction in Creole. 

4.Buxton, C.A., Lee, O., Mahotiere, M. (2008). “The Role of Language in Academic and Social Transition of Haitian Children and Their Parents to Urban U.S. Schools.” Bilingual Research Journal, 31: 47-74.

Buxton, Lee and Mahotiere use interviews with Haitian educators, parents, and students to comprehend the role of language in the academic and social transition of Haitians to urban schools in the US. Relying on the theoretical constructs of linguistic identity and actor networks, the authors find 3 themes: an affinity for multiple languages, a wish to be multicultural, and a responsibility to help others in their community (Buxton, Lee & Mahotiere, 2008). Drawing on the earlier scholarship and the sociocultural roles of language, the authors claim Haitians understand how language can be used to represent power or the lack thereof. In addition, the low status of Creole in Haiti has shaped how some Haitian parents perceive Creole in their children’s US schooling. Since, in Haiti, these parents likely attended schools in which instruction was entirely in French, they may not seek Creole language support for their children. The authors argue that linguistic identity is central to knowing how individuals balance their integration in US cultural and linguistic forms with the maintenance of their home languages and cultural practices. Significantly, the authors found that all 3 groups (Haitian parents, educators and students) expressed a desire to maintain Haitian Creole and to improve fluency and literacy. The teachers, too, support the L1 of their students. Nonetheless, the majority of the parents and teachers plus many of the interviewed students also claimed to regularly use French and wished to maintain the French language. This suggests French retains its prestige status among Haitians in the US, with one parent expressing that French is important for their child to be able to communicate with relatives in France. One parent, however, saw French as a barrier to education in Haitian schools while Haitian children now contend with the challenge of English in their US schools. Moreover, Haitian parents, teachers and students all expressed a strong belief in the maintenance of Haitian culture, traditions, behaviors and languages whilst simultaneously embracing the multicultural world of South Florida. Creole is even used by the teachers when not necessary in the classroom to strengthen bonds between teacher and students. Last, the sense of responsibility to aid other Haitians entails the maintenance of bilingualism. Consequently, according to this article, Haitian students, parents, and teachers are dedicated to the maintenance of Creole for supporting their community, identity, and participating in a multicultural society. The legacy of French as a prestige language associated with power, has also shaped the linguistic identity of Haitians, since the majority believe it is important to maintain and develop it.

5. Barrière, I., Monreau-Merry, M.M (2012).  “Trilingualism of the Haitian Diaspora in NYC: Current and future challenges.” In O. Garcia, Z. Zakharia & b. Otcu (2012) Bilingual Community Education for American Children: Beyond Heritage Languages in a Global City (pp. 247-258). Multilingual Matters.

Analyzing the trilingualism of the Haitian Diaspora in NYC, the authors describe how English, French and Creole coexist in an unequal manner. Drawing on the history of Haitian Creole and the role of French as the prestige language, the authors contrast its favor with that of Creole. Indeed, Creole, which lacked an official orthography until the 1980s, was not recognized as an official language until 1987 (Barrière & Monreau-Merry, 2012). Haitian immigrant students in the US also continue to suffer from misperceptions of their language. According to the authors, Haitians are still assumed to be Francophones. Due to additional problems such as the lack of Haitian school records and the few Haitian Creole-speaking staff in schools, many students are still placed in the wrong classes. Furthermore, the children of Haitian migrants who reside in poor neighborhoods have become multilingual and multidialectal, acquiring African American Vernacular English as well as West Indian English. This linguistic and dialectal diversity has shaped second-generation Haitian immigrants, who either identify as Black American, Haitian or as immigrants. Another development is the prominence of Haitian students in the French programs in NYC launched since the French Embassy’s 2007 ‘French Goes Public’ initiative. According to the researchers, Haitian students comprise 29% of the study body in these French programs (Barrière & Monreau-Merry, 2012). Learning Creole, on the other hand, is less successful. Indeed, the initiatives taken after the 2010 earthquake and the centers or universities offering classes may not be enough to ensure second and third generation Haitians retain the language. Nonetheless, French appears to receive more support than Haitian Creole in both Haiti and New York, thereby demonstrating another example of the ways in which Creole’s lower prestige in both Haiti and the US continues to shape language policies of schools and districts. The absence of first language instruction may even threaten the language’s persistence for subsequent generations.

Conclusion

In conclusion, the aforementioned sources indicate that Haitian Creole instruction and bilingual programs in the US still experience the effects of the colonial French legacy and unequal status and stigma in the US. While there have been some notable attempts to create bilingual programs and support Haitian students with home-language instruction and ESL services, many are not receiving the services they need. In addition, the stigma attached to Creole in Haiti and the US has meant that some Haitian students will not develop full literacy in their L1. Haitian grassroots organizations and academics, based in the US and Haiti, however, have been pushing for more instruction in Creole since teaching in the first language is demonstrated by research to be most effective. Haitian Creole maintenance, in other ways, seems partly guaranteed by the Haitian population in areas like South Florida defining their culture as partly based in Creole. The global Haitian diaspora may also be suggestive of another reason for the maintenance of Creole due to the need for Haitian families dispersed across multiple countries to communicate. This may be relevant for the analysis of language maintenance across generations for other nationalities or ethnic groups with widespread diasporic communities.

Cric Crac

 

Georges Sylvain's Cric? Crac!: Fables de La Fontaine racontées par un montagnard haïtien et transcrites en vers créoles is a fascinating work. More of a reimagining or adaptation than a faithful translation, Sylvain Haitianizes La Fontaine while satirizing and reflecting upon Haitian society. While several stories or fables are recognizable, they usually have Haitian settings, include Haitian Creole proverbs, and allude to historical or social factors of Haiti life. For instance, setting some stories during the reign of Emperor Soulouque, using Bois-Verna as a setting, or referencing popular songs of the day throughout the fables. The best fables are those with direct implications to the state of Haitian society. For instance, the tale of the shepherd and his two goats who mistakenly thinks he can, through contraband and illegal trade at the port, become wealthy, learns the hard way to forsake a life of dishonesty. Clearly, the widespread practice of contraband was a recognized ill of Haitian society and the economy to Sylvain. 

Similarly, one of the last fables includes a farmer telling his three sons to work hard and maintain their farm, also passing on a story of buried treasure from colonial times. The sons dig and search persistently, but after failing to find it, continue to cultivate the land left by their father. The three brothers become prosperous and overtime, learn that the real treasure was land and their labor to make it prosperous. Similarly, the tale of the woman from Bois-Verna who dreams of selling milk and becoming a wealthy food vendor who dresses up for the balls in Bel-Air, learns the hard way to not get distracted by dreams when in the middle of her task. These vignettes and fables in Creole and French offer a poignant social commentary on the problems facing the country at the beginning of the 20th century. Of course, they are filtered through the lens of an elite male writer who borrows from the montagnard narrator and Haitian oral traditions to offer this perspective.

Other fables reference the belief that the poor or lower-classes should stay in their place or avoid the the corrupting influence the state, usually through animal fables. Unsurprisingly, there is a strong sense of justice as well as a conservative stance reflected in these tales. Ultimately, the lower-classes are supposed to know their place, be productive (useful, laborious), and stay out of politics or intrigue. Vodou, surprisingly, makes an appearance here or there or in the story when referencing music or popular customs. However, Sylvain seems ambivalent about these aspects of Haitian culture, perhaps simply including them because they were a real part of everyday culture in those times. Nonetheless, it is interesting to finally read this and think back on the lodyans of Lherisson and Antoine Innocent's novel. Written around the same time, each of these 3 authors wrote a "national" literature that reflected Haitian language, culture, spirituality, and worldview. Lherisson, despite not completely writing in Creole, was perhaps the most successful in terms of capturing the linguistic question while offering a more successful satirical look on the state of Haiti. 

Félix Morisseau-Leroy sur la place et l'importance du créole en Haïti. (interview de 1957)

Felix Morisseau-Leroy speaks about Haitian Creole and its place and value as a language like any other and his adaptation of Antigone for a Haitian setting. Morisseau-Leroy was one of the more interesting 20th century writers from our homeland whose life and work should inspire us. 

Met Larouzé

Fanfan's Met Larouzé, a Creole comics adaptation of Jacques Roumain's famous novel is a worthwhile read. In addition to translating Roumain's already linguistically intriguing novel into Creole, Fanfan also visualizes the story of Manuel and Fond Rouge in a compelling way. The depiction of the habitants of the region, suffering from a long drought and general misery, is detailed, showing to an almost painful degree the travails the Haitian population of the era thought. The comic is also very faithful to the original novel, perhaps embellishing or providing additional context here or there that might have been missing from the novel (such as the setting being near Crois des Bouquets). The Creole vocabulary used throughout also may change the meaning of some moments in the plot. For instance, Manuel being called chef of the syndicat (sindicat) instead of the konbit might be a hint towards the resurgence of labor in Haiti near the end of Jean-Claude Duvalier's regime. 

Unfortunately, since the comic does not use the standardized orthography for Haitian Creole I am most familiar with, there are a number of words I struggled to translate or find English or French equivalents for, but that's mostly my problem for not being a fluent speaker. Moreover, backgrounds for the panels are usually not depicted or very detailed, highlighting the centrality of the people themselves and their role in changing their fortune and environment. Of course, when Manuel shows Annaise the source of the water, the Eden-like setting comes to life vividly, without color. Otherwise, we get mostly pastoral and rural scenes, domestic scenes, or meetings at Larivoua's house. Again, the people of Fond Rouge are centered, especially Manuel's mother, Delira.

Delira, it would seem, experiences the most personal and psychological growth. Through her son's sacrifice and her own seizing of destiny, she rejects fatalistic notions of religion (Catholicism and Vodou), and becomes a heroic figure in her own right. Whereas the novel, if I remember correctly, featured a less determined, free-willed Delira, this comic book highlights her role. Once more, I cannot help but wonder if this possible change is due to the political climate of the early 1980s and Bon Nouvel's socially conscious, and culturally affirming journal. The Haitian community here, torn apart by a family feud and poverty, must come together and adapt their traditions to save themselves, which must have been relevant to audiences growing sick of Baby Doc.

It would be useful to compare this to the few other Haitian comics produced in the 1980s by Lorquet, whose comics were original stories with socially relevant commentary on Haitian migrant workers, boatpeople, AIDS, and other issues of the day. Of course, it would also be worthwhile to compare Fanfan's work with the short-lived Haitian comics journal of the 1940s, Zobopes, if it can be located. One wonders why Haitian Creole comics failed to take off? And what to make of the Haitian graphic novel as a literary form that can adopt and adapt masterpieces of the Haitian canon? And the impact of the comics of the late 19th century? The continued use of proverbs, as well as social satire or comedy can be found. Indeed, the use of some of the same proverbs and critique of rapacious elites, corrupt officials, and the 'color question' can be found in both Le Zinglin and Met Larouzé.

La Famille des Pitite-Caille

La Famille des Pitite-Caille is quite similar to its successor, Zoune chez sa ninnaine. Both are lodysans works which draw on oral storytelling, Haitian Creole, and creolized French. Here, however, Justin Lhérisson focuses on the rise and fall of a Haitian family in Port-au-Prince, likely set in the 1870s though the founder of the family lineage died under Boyer. One of the many descendants of Damvala, or Petite-Caille (pitit kay), the favored congo slave of a colonial planter, Eliézer and his wife from Martinique become wealthy and socially important in Port-au-Prince. After a triumphant return from France (where Eliézer and Velleda sent their children for schooling), he becomes a leading Freemason, throws expensive parties, and, like many people in Haiti who talk a lot (according to the narrator, Golimin), he decides to enter politics. 

Boutenègre convinces Eliézer to hire him, and so they proceed to use the family fortune to throw parties, buy food and drink, and entertain the masses so that he can win. This is the best part of this tragicomic story, since it satirically takes apart the pseudo-democratic political system while also lampooning politicians and nouveau riche of the upper class. Boutenègre, for instance, speaks French like a Creole speaker, pronouncing words like the prêtre-savane in Zoune. Meanwhile, Eliézer, who pretends to be a sophisticated intellectual, does not read the books in his large library inside his Turgeau home. He speaks with authority and pretenses of caring for the masses, whose support he buys through Boutenègre and his team.

And if you think Lhérisson was only mocking the nouveau riche putting on airs, or the lower-classes of Port-au-Prince whose support is purchased, there is no doubt that the elites and high society of "good families" are mocked for their superstitions and corruption. Eliézer's daughter, who returns from France with a large inheritance after the death of her father, which was provoked by government repression after an erroneous tip targeted him for stockpiling weapons, marries a man from a "good family" who proceeds to waste her money on his several mistresses while beating her (of course, also claiming to be investing the money in cotton). Moreover, the superstitious high society women and their husbands were, ultimately, the source of wealth for the Petite-Cailles as they sought the services of Velleda, who was a tireuse des cartes. Therefore, these Haitian elites are no better than the superstitious peasants lamented by the narrator in Zoune.

Despite the hilarious comic elements in this tale of a family's rise and fall, it resembles Zoune in that it explores to tragic results the conditions of women in 19th century Port-au-Prince. Velleda, the wife of Eliézer, ends her days as a mistress of a general, despite being a wealthy woman whose husband ruined her. Although she was able to convince her husband to change his ways, his death and the decisions of her children ruin her. Her daughter, pushed to marry an abusive man who eventually kills her, has an even worse fate since she has no say over the finances of her husband. Indeed, she even stays with him after he beats her and throws away her inheritance chasing after other women. These disturbing social customs and gender relations define both stories in a country where the impossible can be possible. Where the upwardly mobile put on airs and speak French rather than express themselves in their mother tongue. In a place where corrupt officials, generals, and bought crowds dominate politics.

Unfortunately, the author left us too soon, and his papers were lost in a fire. Perhaps his next story would have showed us what happened to Zoune, or maybe he would have written a novel about working-class families in the Port-au-Prince of his time. Something, perhaps, with more of his innovative blend of French and Creole that would have addressed religion, music, and the role of language? Perhaps he would have inspired Haitian literature to embrace the Creole language earlier, maybe even promoting literacy efforts in recognition of it's undeniable presence in everyday life. 

Zoune chez sa ninnaine: fan'm gain sept sauts pou li passé

With novelists such as Justin Lhérisson, it becomes easier to see the literary traditions of Haiti over the last century. Utilizing lodyans and incorporating Creole dialogue allowed Lhérisson to explore language, class relations, society, and culture in a playful manner. Zoune chez sa ninnaine has a wonderful sense of humor, which brought to mind more contemporary Haitian and Caribbean writers. Lhérisson, in this novel, addresses a number of social ills plaguing Haiti during the Boyer years, juxtaposing Zoune and her travails with her godmother and Cadet Jacques to the anti-Boyer movement of Hérard Dumesle and the miserable conditions in the countryside, where Zoune's peasant parents lived.

The novel begins with a description of her parents, the miserable conditions Zoune experienced as a sickly and tired child and, eventually, their plans to baptise her several years after her birth due to superstitious fears. This, eventually, leads them to having to find a godmother for their child. They later send Zoune to live with this well-to-do woman, Madame Boyote. Thanks to Boyote, Zoune recovers from her emaciated, sickly condition and develops into a beautiful young woman. Boyote sees to it that she receives first communion, gives her some education (at a time where, according to the narrator, there were maybe 19 or 20 primary schools on the entire island), and employs her in her business. 

However, the growing prosperity of Boyote attracts negative attention from envious rivals and people with nothing to do. Lhérisson satirizes in a hilarious manner the social evils of Haiti as many city residents try to destroy Boyote through rumors of sorcery, magic, lesbianism, and more. The humor continues with the infamous Cadet Jacques, a military man of many mistresses. He will go to extreme lengths in his sexual conquests, including abusing his powers to coerce young women to sleep with him (such as arresting their families). In fact, Cadet Jacques justified his behavior by pointing to President Boyer, a man who also had several mistresses, which the narrator uses as an opportunity to lament the lack of role models among Haitian leaders. Lhérisson probably did believe that with education and moralisation, the peasantry and lower classes could excel, but corrupt leaders like Cadet Jacques ensure ignorance, misery, or suffering prevail.

The rest of the story is well-known. Beautiful Zoune attracts several male admirers, including Cadet Jacques, who takes Boyote as his mistress. Her business grows more prosperous, but Cadet Jacques begins making inappropriate passes at her goddaughter. Eventually, he tries to rape her. Later, the entire city finds out about the affair and Zoune leaves her godmother, pursuing a life on her own. A number of social problems are raised throughout the book, particularly the exclusion of peasants from the "citadins" in Port-au-Prince, class relations, the limited spheres for women, and the misrule of Boyer.

What particularly stands out, however, is Lhérisson's use of humor to convey social commentary. Golimin, the narrative voice, as well as the characters themselves, speak in French, Creole, and, in some cases, creolized French. Frere Philomène's creolized French at Zoune's first communion celebration, for instance, demonstrates the creative ways language can be modified to more closely capture the Haitian reality. The Creole phrases, proverbs, insults, and modifiers inject an oral breath of life to the dialogue (including music) while also illustrating nuances in social relations. The novel abounds in references to sorcery, nicknames, popular beliefs and the religious melange of Catholicism and Vodou, bringing to mind the way subsequent authors like Laferrière are indebted to Lhérisson's generation. This is all quite creative while entertaining Haitian audiences a few years after the Centennial of the same ongoing problems. Sadly, it remains relevant in the 21st century, too.

Morisseau-Leroy Reads His Work

Enjoy a reading by Morisseau-Leroy of his Creole poems from Haiti Radio Selections! I believe (correct me if I am wrong) Dyakout was the first published book of Haitian Creole poems, and Morisseau-Leroy always supported writing in Haitian Creole, the language used by the overwhelming majority of Haitians. He saves the most powerful poem for last, "Mèsi Papa Desalin" (which can also be read here, including an English translation).