Review of Edwidge Danticat's Create Dangerously: The Immigrant Artist a Work (2010)

Edwidge Danticat’s most recent book Create Dangerously:  The Immigrant Artist At Work reminds readers that in addition to her numerous contributions to Haitian literature, Danticat is a meticulous and erudite cultural critic. As with her previous works of non-fiction After the Dance:  A Walk Through Carnival in Jacmel (2002), Brother I’m Dying (2008),  Create Dangerously displays Danticat’s penchant for looking backwards and forward exposing lesser known stories of Haitian history and offering new perspectives on ubiquitous historical and literary narratives.  What results is a book that weaves personal stories, political history, national loss, visual art, and literature together in seamless thoughtful patterns. Follow this link to our books section to read the entire review.

Pou nou pa bliye

Dimanch 16 janvye 2011 Jean-Claude Duvalier tounen Ayiti. Gen anpil moun, ann Ayiti ak lòtbòdlo ki poze tèt yo kesyon sou retou sa a. Genyen ki di yo sezi, yo pa konprann kòman Duvalier fè santi l alèz pou li rantre nan peyi a. Yo pa konprann kòman fè gen moun ki akeyi l san pwoblèm, ki mande pou li pran plas li nan sosyete a. Se vre gen moun k ap mande pou sosyete ayisyen an padone Jean-Claude Duvalier, ki mande pou nou tout rekonsilye pou sosyete a ka vanse. Sa ki klè se ke kesyon diktati a, sa l vle di, konsekans li ka genyen, tout ap debat jounen jodi a.

Youn nan kesyon ki soulve nan deba sa a, se kesyon memwa sosyete a. Nou te deja abòde kesyon sa a parapò a dat 12 janvye ki sot pase a. Gen anpil aktivite ki fèt pou make jou sa a, pou nou kenbe evenman an ak tout moun ki disparèt yo, tout sa ki blese yo, tout sa ki sibi yo nan memwa n. Men travay sa a pa fèt pou lòt evenman nan istwa peyi nou. Rejim Duvalier a se yon egzanp ki klè. Sistèm lekòl ayisyen an pa montre elèv yo kisa rejim Duvalier a te reprezante, kote li te soti, kijan li te fonksyone, ki konsekans li te gen sou sosyete a. Klas politik la pa tèlman pale sou sa non plis, menm lè gen anpil nan yo ki te viktim rejim Duvalier a.

Men sa pa vle pa gen okenn memwa rejim Duvalier a nan sosyete a ditou. Depi kèk jou, anpil moun ki te sibi represyon rejim sa a, anpil moun ki te temwen sa k te fèt nan epòk la ap pran lapawòl nan radyo ak televizyon. Yo ekri nan jounal tou. Genyen ki te deja pibliye liv sou sijè diktati a. Nan istwa literè peyi nou, gen plizyè reprezantasyon rejim Duvalier a ak lòt rejim diktati. Anplis merit literè yo, liv sa yo enpòtan paske se memwa peyi a yo charye. Men yon lis kèk liv fiksyon ki trete kesyon diktati a. Mwen si gen lot mwen bliye. Tanpri, sèvi ak espas kòmantè a pou ede m konplete lis la. Fòk nou pa bliye.

• Marie Chauvet, Amour, colère et folie (1968)
• Franketienne, Ultravocal (1972)
• Anthony Phelps, Moins l'infini (1973)
• Gérard Etienne, Le Nègre crucifié (1974)
• Jean-Claude Charles, Sainte dérive des cochons (1977)
• René Depestre, Le Mât de cocagne (1979)
• Roger Dorsinville, Mourir pour Haiti ou Les croisés d’Esther (1980)
• Emile Ollivier, Mère-Solitude (1983)
• J. J. Dominique, Mémoire d'une amnésique (1984)
• Lilas Desquiron, Les Chemins de loco-miroir (1990)
• Lyonel Trouillot, Rue des pas perdus (1996)
• Dany Laferrière, Le cri des oiseaux fous (2000)
• Edwidge Danticat, The Dew Breaker (2004)
• Ludovic Comeau, Jr. Les Bâtisseurs du Lendemain (2007)
• Kettly Mars, Saisons sauvages (2010)
• Evelyne Trouillot, La Mémoire aux abois (2010)

NM

12 janvye 2010

Pour la énième fois

A Port-au-Prince

je déplace encore les mots

à ma guise

mais les maisons sont trop lourdes

à porter

Aucun miroir phraseur

pour nous informer

Seuls les trottoirs

nous disent ironiquement:

maisons sans amants

maisons sans enfants

maisons larmoyantes

descellées

esseulées

vides

A chaque famille

sa ration de mort

Partout s'imposent les murs

plus intimement

dans notre vie

sans bonjour

sans sommation

                            

-Georges Castera

Ce matin-là


J'ai crié une fois. J'ai crié ton nom comme on parle a ses morts. Ceux qui sont chers mais ne le savent plus peut-être, ceux qu'on a laissés partir sans un mot d'amour au creux de l'oreille. Sans l’émotion ultime d'un baiser.


J'ai su plus tard, bien plus tard que tu étais vivant.C'est mensonge que de croire qu'une minute change tout. Pas en amour. La route sinueuse empruntée par l'amour, détournée par la mort se rattrape au carrefour. Elle retrouve son chemin tel l'animal apprivoisé.


Je te compte parmi mes morts.
                                                 (extraits)
                                                 -Chantal Kénol

Partage des survivants

                  A la memoire de mon fils Loubendy

Écrasés sous une sorte de cauchemar

    indissoluble

nous portons dans nos entrailles la brutalité

    de la terre qui s'ebroue

L'hiver armé d'un vent de fanaison séjourne

   dans nos os

qu'il casse de son marteau de béton

Nous rêvons de la vie

comme nous mourons de honte et de chagrin

des quatre coins de l'ile

s’échappent des cris moulus

des souffles impuissants

Larmes amères

partage des survivants

arrosant sans arrêt la poussière stérile

d'où ne peut surgir que ce qui lui ressemble

En quelques mots, quelques secondes

une pluie de deuils a emporté nos rires

Sur nos nuits pauvres et nues

sur notre chair vivante

sur nos peaux

sur nos restes de rue

la chair de nos dépouilles

fait tache

Nous brûlerons nos peines jusqu'aux oreilles

  rocailleuses

Nous hurlerons nos peines toutes les pleines

  lunes

Pour indiquer a nos morts

La route du repos prématuré

                                           - Marc-Endy Simon

Goudougoudou … 

Grif dezolasyon

plante nan zantray chak katye

riyèl apre riyèl

Graslamizerikòd pou vil Jakmèl

pawòl bèbè nan zorèy soud

lafimen ki gaye nan fon bwa

anvan li disparèt dèyè Mòn Lopital

Zepon doulè tonbe nan pasaj tan

ki longè tan

pou lavi nou ta ye

pou nou bliye twa san mil vwa

k ap frape pòt letènite ?

Sekous rele sekous

Leyogàn sou kabann lopital

latè gen malkadi

vwazinay men anlè

ap rapousuiv Jezi

Zegui revèy nou estannbay

sou senkè mwen tikras

kòd gita lanati dezakòde

janm nou gen latranblad

konpa tounen sanba

nan bal san mizisyen

Goudougoudou … goudougoudou…

Zèl malfini tankou

dra sou peyi a

kameleyon dekrete sezon vèy

poze kazèn sou teren lenkonsyans

vonvon tapise makadam

ayewopò Mayi Gate

pikèt plante

mil tant drese

drapo monte

Madi 12 janvye

madi madichonnen

lage nou bra mare

nan lakou demanbre

fè n pase pou po patat

yon kolonn azizwèl

san koutcha

chen k ap wouke

nan pye tab gwomouche

kantite neglijab

nan paj kaye listwa

Mèt minui  kale nan lonbraj zetwal

pwofèt malè pouse tankou djondjon

deblatere san rete nan jaden iyorans

kòmkidire dèt granpapa n ap peye

Kisa n gen pou n peye?

Nou fè listwa sou do Napoleyon

deklare libète pou tout limanite

nou siyen non nou Savana

fè solidarite ak Simon Boliva

listwa pasa bliye n

menm lè zwazo mechan

ban nou bwa long kenbe

Pa mezire distans ki separe n

ak kòt Lafrik

nou konnen ki kote

kòd lonbrit nou antere

eritye Karayib nan mitan Lamerik

nou pot fyète nou sou fwon n

nou aprann pare kou

jenou n pa p janm touche tè

                           (ekstrè)
                           Guy-Gérald Ménard

            

Écrire par devoir de mémoire?

I have spent a large part of this past year (not to mention much of my life/ career as a cultural critic) critiquing Haiti's representation in the US media.  As an avid reader of the New York Times, I have been been dismayed and pleased by some of their coverage over the years.  However, I do have to say that it does seem like this year they are making more of an effort to include Haitian voices in a more deliberate and interesting way, which is great.  Reminds me of a comment from one of our readers a couple of weeks ago about the difference between "writing about" Haiti and "writing for" Haiti.  An important distinction indeed!  This recent opinion piece by Kettly Mars in The New York Times is a beautiful example of the latter.   Mars is one of my favorite authors writing in Haiti today; this short piece exemplifies her ability to capture the essence of a moment with a few simple sentences.  She writes, 

"For the first two or three days after the earthquake, we relied on one another to save the lives that could be saved, however few there were. With bare hands, survivors pulled the wounded from concrete and iron, then drove them to hospitals, or pushed them there in carts, or carried them on their backs. We shared our food and water. Money, for once, was not important, nor were last names or skin color. For a brief and enlightening moment in our lives we experienced the true meaning of brotherhood." 

Follow the link here for the entire article. You can also go to HIP magazine for a recent interview with Mars.  As the anniversary of the earthquake approaches, I am on the lookout for how Haitian writers in particular are remembering and reflecting on the tragedy.   The title for this post comes from the writing project "Écrire par devoir de mémoire" for which a group of African writers travelled to Rwanda in the aftermath of the Rwandan genocide and wrote various texts, essays, poems, novels, plays about the experience.  This example, albeit very different since most of these writers were not Rwandese or in Rwanda at the time of the genocide, comes to mind because of the imperative suggested by the "devoir de mémoire" which translates as a duty to remember even (maybe even especially?) in the wake of tragic events.   Already books like Haiti parmi les vivants, Haiti Rising: Haitian History, Culture, and the Earthquake of 2010, and Dany Laferrière's Tout bouge autour de moi (to name a few) have begun the work of writing as a duty to remember the earthquake, with certainly many more to follow.   But I must admit even this notion of "devoir de mémoire" comes up short in defining post-earthquake writing, whether in the form of wrenching testimonials, arresting poetry, or just wistful longings...although inevitable, maybe it is too early to begin to define or contain writing about the earthquake, what do you think?

RMJC