James Weldon Johnson and Haiti

Did you know that the composer of the black national anthem, "Lift Every Voice and Sing," is of partial Haitian descent? Though his mother is from the Bahamas, her name, according to Wikipedia, is Helen Louise Dillet, and this indicates that Johnson and his composer brother were sons of a Nassau woman of Haitian descent, born in 1842. The question is, however, were her parents Saint Dominguans leaving a French colony or were they leaving an independent state of Haiti? Evidence would suggest his mother's descent can be traced to enslaved Saint Dominguans who moved to the Bahamas, which is part of the reason French surnames can be found there, such as the famous Sidney Poitier. Apparently, his mother's ancestry can be traced to a Stephen Dillet, a slave from Saint Domingue sent away from the island on a schooner by a Frenchman with the surname Dillet, which likely indicates French ancestry, too, a fact one can find in his autobiography.  Maybe this may be part of the reason Johnson so passionately documented abuses of power on the part of US Marines in Haiti during the American occupation, because he took pride in the Haitian Revolution and Haiti as a symbol for black liberation as well as the land of his mother's forebears. Thus, one can see the influence of Haiti, the first black state in the hemisphere, as a definite presence in "Lift Every Voice and Sing" and the long history of black nationalism. On that note, enjoy the lyrics of this beautiful tribute to black solidarity and freedom!

Lift every voice and sing, till earth and Heaven ring,

Ring with the harmonies of liberty;

Let our rejoicing rise, high as the listening skies,

Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.

Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,

Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us;

Facing the rising sun of our new day begun,

Let us march on till victory is won.

Stony the road we trod, bitter the chastening rod,

Felt in the days when hope unborn had died;

Yet with a steady beat, have not our weary feet

Come to the place for which our fathers sighed?

We have come over a way that with tears has been watered;

We have come, treading our path through the blood of the slaughtered;

Out from the gloomy past, till now we stand at last

Where the white gleam of our bright star is cast.

God of our weary years, God of our silent tears,

Thou Who hast brought us thus far on the way;

Thou Who hast by Thy might, led us into the light,

Keep us forever in the path, we pray.

Lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met Thee.

Lest our hearts, drunk with the wine of the world, we forget Thee.

Shadowed beneath Thy hand, may we forever stand,

True to our God, true to our native land.

"The Shoop Shoop Song (It's In His Kiss)"

A favorite jam of mine, which I had forgotten the name and haven't heard in several years, Betty Everett's version of the tune is perfect 1960s girl group soul, featuring The Opals. Though recorded by a plethora of other singers, Everett, who considered the song puerile according to Wikipedia, delivers a stunning performance with her acrobatic vocals and sing-shout delight. The additional flourishes of the marimba (or xylophone?), which remind one of "Spanish Harlem," also go along well with the pronounced, quasi-Latin rhythms. The Opals are on point, too, though the star of the show is clearly Everett, who sounds like she comes out of church with her depth and power. There is a timeless quality to this song. "If you wanna know if he loves you so, it's in his kiss!"

Ainsi Parla L'Oncle

Winston James describes Price-Mars as a doctor, school master, university lecturer and rector, deputy, senator, diplomat, presidential candidate, cabinet minister, and prolific author who helped established Haiti as the forerunner in the Caribbean for reconsidering the African contributions to the culture of the region (James 453). In addition, James also places the work of Mars in the wider context, one where the US occupation sparked a ethnological movement (indigenist, noirist) among black and colored Haitian intelligentsia (452). Price-Mars, a descendant of Jean-Baptiste Belley, according to Laurent Dubois, was also a scion of a long family of other distinguished Haitians. His magnum opus, Ainsi parla l'oncle, published in 1928 used anthropology, history, linguistics, musicology, sociology, and literary criticism to bring to light what he called the ‘indigenous’ black culture of Haiti, analyzed Haitian folklore and examined Kreyol as a fully formed language and praised Haitian cultural debt to African ancestral roots and considered Haitian linkages to contemporary Africa (453). James goes on to assert the influence of Jean Price-Mars in future Haitian intellectuals and writers, including Jacques Roumain, Carles Brouard, Francois Duvalier, and the entirety of the negritude and black nationalist movements of the Caribbean and Africa (454).

Danton also praises Jean Price-Mars, who challenged notions that black populations in the Americas lacked historical depth/culture because of the destructive forces of slavery as well as broadened  the scope of historical research to include Haitian rural masses before Western Marxist historians began including it in their narratives (Danton 166). According to Danton, he was also the first to establish the study of Vodou as a religion in its own right, based on its own theology, it orders time and space, and possesses its own ethic (169). Thus, these pre-emptive readings make it seem that this important text is a brilliant study of Africanisms in Haitian culture, Vodou, an example of subaltern studies, and an interdisciplinary work of religious, anthropological, and historical inquiry, which was necessary to validate the Haitian majority and the black race, presaging noirist thought, in the midst of a racist and brutal American occupying force.

With such lofty words from Winston James, let's see how my perspective on Ainsi parla l'oncle may differ. My interpretation relies on a translation by Magdaline W. Shannon, published by Three Continents Press. The introduction endeavors to establish the author as a refutation of the racial theories of Le Bon historically, ethnologically, and biologically, emphasizing the African past and its contribution to contemporary Haitian social structure, and Voodoo as a New-World phenomenon and not an African survival. The early chapter focuses on folklore and its importance in the knowledge of the masses, as well as its French and African influences that make up Ti-Malice, Ti-Bouqui, and other characters in Haitian folk tales. One can see evidence of the author's defense of the Creole/Kreyol language, too, and he cites a Kreyol expression from the Haitian Revolution that survives to this day, a chant song at battle of Vertieres:

“Grenadiers a l’assault!

Ca qui mouri zaffaire a yo!

Nan point manman nan point papa!

Grenadiers a l’assault!

Ca qui mouri zaffaire a yo! (Price-Mars 27)

He also refers to Romaine the Prophetess (24) as well as "Choucoune" and Oswald Durand (33), to establish the literary credentials, history, and power of Kreyol to the majority of the Haitian people. 

In the second chapter, on popular belief, Price-Mars defines Vodou as a religion based on the following factors: 

1. all of its adherents believe in the existence of spiritual beings who live anywhere in the universe in close intimacy with humans whose activity they dominate

2. these invisible beings constitute a pantheon in which the greatest among them bear the title of Papa or Grand Master
3. the cult appertaining to its gods requires a hierarchical priestly body, a society of the faithful, temples, altars, ceremonies, and oral tradition that has passed down the essential elements of worship
4. theology, a system of representation thanks to which our African ancestors have accounted for natural phenomena (39)

He also approaches the question of sorcery, witchcraft and magic (42) and discusses the presence of Catholicism among African slaves as something embedded in the Code Noir but never really enforced (proselytizing among the enslaved seems to have been on the bottom of the priorities for the slave regime), though technically Catolicism was the only religion allowed in the colony (47). He cites Moreau de St. Mery to illustrate that most blacks in the colony from the coast of Congo and Angola, taken from an area between Cape Lopez and Cape Negre (51). This information is used to establish a background on Haitian popular culture from the slave period to the 20th century, where the specific African origins of the Haitian people are necessary to understand, as well as its impact on slave culture, religion, and resistance, which are not separable from the Haitian Revolution and the course of Haitian history. His defense of Vodou as religion is also of value, since legislation, Catholic Church missions, and international eyes to this day perceive Vodou as just black magic, witchcraft, zombies, and savage superstition.

Moving on to the subject of Africa and it's history and cultural impact on Haitian popular culture, examined in detail in the third chapter, it becomes clear that the limitations of the 1920s impacted negatively Jean Price-Mars. Falling back on the theory of Hamites (63) and outdated theories on the origin of the black race, unfortunately this is where I began to lose interest in the text. Although rooted in the theories of his day, which were, unfortunately, colonialist, racist, and for the most part unfounded, one should still commend the overall text for arguing against racism, but the tone and clearly out of date theoretical underpinnings of this text on Africa is problematic. That said, it still has inherent value and he defends the African past and black civilizations with references to the general history of the empires of the Western Sudan, Ghana, Mali, and Songhai (68). Nevertheless, I take issue with his climatic or geographical determinism on the black inhabitants of the equatorial region of Africa: “Those who reproach Negroes for their inferiority or their so-called inaptitude for civilization disregard too easily the terrible conditions of Negro life in the equatorial zone. For the conclusion of these superficial critiques clashes with contradictory facts found in other black communities favored with better climatic conditions” (78). This is a very problematic point, although one Firmin would likely have agreed with. However, it dismisses the history and relevance of the equatorial region of Africa, from whence the ancestors of perhaps the majority of Haitians descend, in ways that are similar to Jared Diamond's controversial and Eurocentric Guns, Germs, and Steels. To prove his theory that better climatic conditions show the equality of the black race, Price-Mars refers to the Western Sudan and the various empires and kingdoms that existed in that region, between the Mediterranean and tropical Africa. Naturally, I agree with Price-Mars on the equality of the races of humanity, but to measure "civilized" societies on a seemingly Eurocentric ruler, does a disservice to the Kongo, Kuba, Ndongo, Matamba, and various West African kingdoms and societies of the "torrid" equatorial region, societies with complex social organization, highly developed religious and intellectual traditions, advanced metallurgy, etc.

In the sixth chapter, Price-Mars dissects Haitian Vodou further, discussing the Catholic symbolic influences, such as Ogou Balindjo as St. James (168). He also alludes to Dessaline ordering to death practitioners of the predecessor of Vodou in 1801 after a ceremony on the plain of the Cul de Sac, an example of the Haitian elite persecuting Vodouisants (155). He also compares Haitian belief in magic and superstition to that of other peoples/religions around the world and throughout history, showing how normal or universal Haitian popular beliefs can be when it comes to the question of supernatural phenomena and superstition. Later, Price-Mars engages in literary commentary and analysis of George Sylvain, Frederic Marcelin, Fernand Hibbert, Justin Lherisson, Massillon Coicou, Burr-Reynaud, Dantes Rey, Carolus, and others, thereby demonstrating the validity of Haitian literature, oral traditions and folklore by showing intersections of the talent of writers with that of folkloric and popular culture.

In conclusion, the text is definitely revolutionary and progressive for its time, though the writing style and some of the content naturally comes off as inaccurate and dated. Written as a defense of Haiti, Haitian peasant culture and popular beliefs, Price-Mars deserves the accolades for pushing against the elite's condescending and racist Bovarism that denied or suppressed that which made Haitians Haitian. As a product of  a context which included oppressive US occupation forces, Price-Mars also spoke to the experiences of other subjugated people to American military and commercial expansion in the Caribbean in the early 1900s, particulary in indigenist and noirist thought. In addition, his critique of the Ardouin brothers, Thomas Madiou, and other 19th century Haitian mulatto historians speaks to challenge the ways elite Haitians have written off or perpetuated negative stereotypes toward those who comprise the majority of the population, who described black Haitians as fetishists and never portrayed Vodou in a positive or neutral light (167). Thus, the importance of Price-Mars for establishing Haitian popular religion as a proper field of study with it's own internal set of rules and theology was significant for challenging racist derogatory attitudes toward Afro-Caribbean religious thought and African religions and establishing a sense of Haitian cultural nationalism removed from Eurocentric standards. One could argue for a long precedent for such attitudes among earlier Haitian nationalists, such as Firmin to a certain degree, or even back to Vastey, who wrote about the brilliance of ancient African civilizations, but neither of these figures wrote so much on Haitian popular culture and beliefs as Price-Mars. For that reason, this book deserves it's place of high regard in Haitian intellectual thought and Caribbean intellectual history, despite it's weaknesses, slight Eurocentrism, outdated information, and seemingly hodgepodge structure.

Sources

Gerarde Magloire-Danton, “Anténor Firmin and Jean Price-Mars: Revolution, Memory, Humanism,” Small Axe 18:9 (2005).

Winston James in “Culture, Labor, and Race in the Shadow of US Capital from The Caribbean: A History of the Region and Its Peoples, eds. Stephan Palmie and Francisco A. Scarano, University of Chicago Press, 2011.

Jean Price-Mars, So Spoke the Uncle: Ethnographic Essays. Washington, D.C.: Three
Continents Press, Inc., 1983.

Beasts of the Southern Wild

Finally saw this movie and I was blown away. I liked the magical realist aesthetic and world where supernatural events and ancient aurochs appear after the storm (allegory for Hurricane Katrina and the destructive impact on the environment of Louisiana?), and the young protagonist is played by an adorable, talented child. It's interesting how it's never revealed what happened to her mother, but the focus on her relationship with her father was, I suppose, another example of the coming of age story, where this child learns to be an adult by dealing with her father's death. Also, I liked how the residents of the small town in the bayou flee from the refugee center, where it seems like they're being forced against their will and treated like caged animals, although they were treating the protagonist's father.

I suppose part of the magic of this film is it does seem to come out of the imagination and perspective of Hushpuppy, who speaks to her dead and gone mother as well as animals, somehow remembers every single time she was lifted by another person (including her infant years, an example of magic realism), and refers to places as "Bathtubs" and otherwise weaves the adult world with her own fantasty and imagination. I suppose the film also had a lot to say about the environment regarding global warming, how we're destroying the planet and ourselves, and the propensity of humanity to oppress humanity (children bossed around and subject to abuse, the people of Hushpuppy's town pushed around by the government).

I particularly enjoyed the odd but touching scene aboard a ship with 'strippers' who act motherly and dance with the children who accompany Hushpuppy, especially the waitress who Hushpuppy asks to be her mother but ends up carrying her on her shoulder and dancing. Quite moving and adorable, though the sequence seems to have no connections to the 'real' world...magical realism! Oh, and they played some nice old-time jazz, "Until the Real Thing Comes Along," which was fun to hear.

What did you think of the film? What about it spoke to you? Surprisingly, race was a seemingly insignificant factor in the Bathtub. Do you think that reflects more of the white crew and writers and directors involved in the project, or something that seems more accurate in the worldview of a young girl? Also, it was difficult not to think of Biblical parallels in the Noah story with the flooded Bathtub, as well as the symbolic importance of water as a life-saving force, and a cause of death and destruction. Isn't the performance of the cast, mostly people with no experience in acting but from the communities portrayed in the film, profoundly real amidst the magical realism of Hushpuppy's world? The film's authenticity and message align well with the coming of age story, facing your fears, and Hushpuppy's (and her community's) connections to the land they call home, regardless of the extreme poverty they experience.

Still, part of me recalls Obama's harsh review of Black Orpheus for romanticizing the poverty of Afro-Brazilians from a favela to paint a magical world of vivid colors, bossa nova, samba, Carnival, and mythology.

Searching for Sugar Man in Song of Solomon and Sixto Rodriguez

Have you ever noticed how the beautiful, haunting poem, "Sugar Man," by Sixto Rodriguez, a Mexican-American Detroit folk musician whose music was legendary for liberal whites in apartheid South Africa, could be linked to Toni Morrison's excellent novel, Song of Solomon? Although I am sure there is no direct connection between Sixto Rodriguez and Toni Morrison, since Rodriguez's music never was big in the US during the 1970s and he worked as a laborer in Detroit after his recording career tapered off. Regardless, I find it fascinating how this Detroit singer-guitarist wrote a song about a "Sugarman" in the same decade that Toni Morrison's excellent novel also included a Sugarman character, in a bluesy folk song sung by children in reference to Solomon, an ancestor of Milkman's who learned how to fly. I first read Song of Solomon a few years ago, and wrote about it on this blog. Here is the song in the novel about Solomon/Sugarman

O Sugarman don't leave me here

Cotton balls to choke me

O Sugarman don't leave me here

Buckra's arms to yoke me. . . .

Sugarman done fly away

Sugarman done gone

Sugarman cut across the sky

Sugarman gone home. (Morrison 49)

As for Rodriguez, I heard about him while in Cape Town, South Africa. A stunning documentary on the search for Sixto Rodriguez by some South Africans who grew up loving his music for its rebellious tone and message to those living under apartheid dictatorship, was often mentioned and I finally watched it while flying from Johannesburg to Germany. Everybody should watch Searching for Sugar Man to read about the quest to discover the identity of 'Sugar Man' Sixto Rodriguez, which the clever South Africans finally pinpointed to a specific US region because of a lyric referring to a place in Michigan. Eventually, they got Rodriguez to come to South Africa and perform, and it's quite magical for the audience of the film and the plethora of South Africans in the concert to see the legendary Sugar Man in the flesh! Since the documentary won many accolades, one hopes that Sixto Rodriguez's music and life gets the recognition he deserves for his contributions to folk-rock and contribution to an ethos of resistance half-way around the world. The humble troubadour, cheated by the guy who collected the royalties from his record sales in South Africa, has apparently used his profits from tours in South Africa and elsewhere to share with friends and family, and he still works as a construction worker! Listen to "Sugar Man" here, and you may see some of the parallels in this "Sugar Man" and the Sugarman of Toni Morrison. 

Indeed, Rodriguez was a sort of Sugarman in the Morrisonian sense because he was "the answer that makes my questions disappear" for anti-apartheid white youth of South Africa. Like the ancestral Solomon of Milkman, this "Sugar Man" of Rodriguez makes questions disappear, and is believed by the singer to be of help, even though he is a drug dealer pushing "jumpers, coke, and sweet Mary Jane." Thus, this drug-dealing "Sugar Man" is far from the Morrison Sugarman who learned to fly, with flight as a common motif in African-American folklore for returning back to Africa, escaping the horrors of slavery in the US South. Nevertheless, one sees that, to Rodriguez and rebellious youth living in oppressive societies, the escape via drugs and the inherent rebelliousness of partaking, like learning to fly, learning to ride the air in Morrison's novel, are both powerful experiences. To be honest, I am sure there was no influence from Rodriguez on Morrison's novel, and their respective "Sugar Men" are vastly different, yet each provides an answer to one's past and current problems, and each one is heavily flawed in their own way. For instance, the Solomon in Morrison's novel learns to fly, but leaves his family behind in the process of doing so, which contradicts my perspective on the novel since flight to me was a metaphor for maturity and learning to love. Likewise, Rodriguez's "Sugar Man" presumably dies after meeting a "false friend" in the dusty lonely streets of Detroit, so despite his escapist and "silver magic ships," he too cannot escape the harsher realities of life that pervade even into the consciousness of the drug-addled mind. 

Safety Not Guaranteed

Here are some of my thoughts on this low budget film starring one of my favorite actresses from Parks and Recreation, an interesting NBC sitcom with some obvious influences from The Office and Aubrey Plaza's deadpan humor. Safety Not Guaranteed is an endearing and interesting film on growth, love, the journey, and the wonder of science fiction/time travel. The film is largely about personal and emotional growth, wonder, and redemption. I think the characters are mostly believable, although the Indian caricature was not great. What they should've done is switch the white jock-type character with the Indian virginal nerd, that would be a good stereotype reversal and would've added more depth to the sweet and thoughtful humor of the film. Also, partly due to a low budget, the film adopts a quasi-minimalist approach to music in the background, character development and careful dialogue. I wouldn't say it's amazing, but the film is certainly interesting and has some serious thematic content with unique observations on the search for identity and maturation we all strive for, you know, existential angst, confusion, and learning to make future changes in our lives by taking agency, being vulnerable and open. When I shared these sentiments regarding the film on a social networking site, some childish, inane responses tried to claim the film was "indie-cliche" but the landscape, apparent emotional depth and meaning to the film's characters in this journey, and the use of archetypes is hardly 'cliche.' Anyway, different strokes for different folks, I guess. There is a reason Netflix is successful, providing niche film audiences with low budget work such as Safety Not Guaranteed featuring quirky and lovable actresses such as Plaza.

Haiti and Greece: President Boyer's Letter to Greek Revolutionaries

An article from The Journal of Haitian Studies includes a letter from Jean-Pierre Boyer to 4 Greeks from 1822 in France seeking Haitian aid for the Greek nationalist revolt against the Ottoman Empire, which broke out in 1821. According to the introduction, written by E.G. Sideris and A.A. Konsta, Greek expatriates living in France would have definitely heard of the Haitian Revolution and abolitionism from certain circles in revolutionary and postrevolutionary France. Also, the prominent French abolitionist, Abbe Gregoire, who, though not mentioned specifically in the introduction, was a firm supporter of the Haitian republic and remained in contact with some Haitian leaders, may have played a role in disseminating knowledge of the Haitian Revolution to Greek nationalists, though I am still unsure on this point since I cannot recall my source (though it may have been this. Anyway, the letter from Boyer lets the Greek nationalists know that he is sympathetic to their cause and sees both Haiti and Greece as similar in their long history of oppression from others, from imperialism, both European (French) and Ottoman. Indeed, according to Boyer, "Such a beautiful and just case and, most importantly, the first successes which have accompanied it, cannot leave Haitians indifferent, for we, like the Hellenes, were for a long time subjected to a dishonorable slavery and finally, with our own chains, broke the head of tyranny." In addition, Boyer's letter addresses the theme of slavery in relation to imperial or colonial rule as well as several allusions to classical Greek history and culture, such as referring to the Greek nationalists as "descendants of Leonidas."

Though expressing sympathy and moral support for the Greek cause against the Ottomans, Boyer's letter explained that financial restraints prevented significant Haitian troops or cash to be sent. Interestingly, Boyer also attributes the recent integration of Haiti and the Spanish-speaking former Spanish colony to the east as another drain on the Haitian budget because "the revolution which triumphs on the eastern portion of our island is creating a new obstacle in carrying out our aim; in fact, this portion, which was incorporated into the Republic I preside over, is in extreme poverty and thus justifies immense expenditures of our budget." Nevertheless, to many Greek historians, at least according to the translators of this letter, believed this letter to be the first official recognition of Greek independence and citizenship in the 1820s, which is part of the reason the knowledge of this letter survives, particularly in the resonance of Boyer's references to democracy, Greek triumphs against the Persians, and revolutionary idealism. Of course, Boyer's rule in Haiti itself was far from actual democracy or a republican form of government, but the ideals of democratic governance and classical history (no doubt a subject familiar to Boyer) clearly carried some significance, even when the reality on the ground was far from anything democratic (check this out for some info on Boyer's long presidency, 1818-1843).

A quick Google search on this topic also suggests some import to the exchange between Haiti and the Greek revolutionaries combating the Turks. Some even say that Haiti sent several tons of coffee, the main export at the time, to be sold to buy supplies and ammunition for the Greeks. According to this piece, Britain would follow Haiti by one year in recognizing the Greek nationalists in 1823, but Haiti was the first to recognize the Greek right to self-determination. This blog links to a Greek translation of Boyer's letter for all of you who can read it! So, even if Haitian aid did not exceed the alleged 25 tons of coffee to be sold on behalf of the Greek revolutionary cause, we have direct evidence of the Haitian state's involvement in liberation of other former colonies and oppressed peoples, just as Petion did earlier for Bolivar and the liberators of Venezuela and Colombia. This, in a sense, is a case of an international export of the Haitian Revolution, within the broader "Age of Revolutions" in Europe and the Americas.