Haiti

The Company of Heaven: Stories from Haiti

priyanka — Tue, 02 Nov 2010 16:00:00 +0000

Marilène Phipps-Kettlewell's collection of short stories, The Company of Heaven, is an unkind narrative of Haiti and Haitians. It is unkind in the way one can be unkind when recalling a sibling’s awkward puberty or seeing for the first time, the humiliation of a parent by a stranger in a public place. She is unkind to her Haitians and yet she remains a family member, intimately invested and loyal. It is difficult to like even one of her characters, however, it is even more difficult to look away from them.

In "Meat," a stranger stranded at the airport in Boston describes the contents of her suitcase. Cooked meat to delight her undernourished relatives in Haiti for at least a week. The traveler cannot stop returning to Haiti and yet she describes a mean Haiti where dog fights dog and even goat, and family members are picked up off the street by masked men and discovered decomposing in sewage holes.

The living are also decomposing: there is sickness in Haiti and Phipps-Kettlewell rarely distinguishes between mental, spiritual and physical corrosion. There is cancer, old age, the lust for little girls, insanity, and AIDS too—a disease that wipes out a circle of beautiful boys and men in the story "River Valley Rooms." The narrator mourns in rooms inhabited by decaying family and filthy dogs. The narrator has returned from the US and becomes the reluctant heir to her late father’s patriarchy: spying on her brother Justin and her mother and saving them from an encroaching army of parasites siphoning off the illusory remains of the family wealth and status.

And yet Phipps-Kettlewell’s characters are not caricatures of rich and poor in a poor country. Neither the poor or the rich are noble, and the power (im)balance between the two fluctuates within each story. Phipps-Kettlewell never allows the servants, workers, guards, gardeners and other dependents of the masters to be powerless. In "Down by the River," it is the servant Venant who carries the collapsed patriarch Misye Emanyèl from his shower and hands him his teeth. There are the legion of servants who attend Misye Emanyèl’s funeral bringing their children and grandchildren: "They were there to bury our dead. We were never there to bury theirs."

The servants and poor Haitians are at the disposal of the elite, they stoke the masters’ vanities, witness their follies and also fan their paranoia. In "Land," a woman who describes herself as French and proud of it, is swindled and threatened by Sasal, her son’s poor friend, in a land deal gone wrong. Sasal is sick of ‘these bourgeois’ but accepts their money. In "Down by the River," the daughter recently bereaved by her father’s death seduces a poor child with a new dress, running water and the promise of America—she steals her away from an impoverished but devastated surrogate mother. And in "Marie Ange’s Ginen," a wily American immigrant returns to his community and extorts a travel fee from friends desperate to flee poverty. The vessel to America is overcrowded, poorly constructed and destined to sink. And yet an old mother boards it and makes a pact with death, with the ocean, with ocean zombies, that she may be taken but that her daughter must survive and escape misery.

Phipps-Kettlewell’s stories describe poor people, even her rich prose cannot conceal their poverty of both spirit and pocket. Her narrators do not conceal depravity, failure, perversion, grief, and longing. As a result, her fiction cannot be conventionally beautiful... but it is true.

Written by: Chiseche Salome Mibenge, November 2nd 2010

Poto Mitan: Haitian Women, Pillars of the Global Economy

admin — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 09:06:00 +0000

Directed by Renee Bergan, Mark Schuller

Documentary Educational Resources

The opening shots in Poto Mitan: Haitian Women, Pillars of the Global Economy, a fifty-minute documentary narrated by Edwidge Danticat, reveal an island paradise: turquoise waters, green hills, beautiful, and colorful flowers. But these scenes don’t last long.

Almost immediately, we’re introduced to numerous working-class and poor women, nicknamed poto mitan, Creole for the pillar around which everything revolves. Their stories range from the heartbreaking to the enraging as one after another they describe the poverty that keeps them and their offspring from fulfilling their dreams.

Viewers will see incredible penury—large families crammed into tiny tin-roofed shacks—as well as miserable filth caused by infrequent garbage pick-ups. Graffiti in English and Creole spells out the community’s rage: People are Dying; Fuck You, UN, Go Home. The latter refers to the United Nations’ “Stabilizing Mission,” on the island since 2004 ostensibly to protect human rights and, according to a UN website, “restore a secure and stable environment” to the nation. That this has been an abysmal failure goes without saying.

While the film could have more clearly explained the UN’s purported function, and better describe the role of the World Bank and the neoliberal economic policies that have stifled Haitian development, the film’s focus on the women most impacted by the current social crisis is effective.

What’s more, the film assesses the pervasive sexism that continues to undervalue female children and adult women. As local lore has it, why send a girl to school when her life will involve nothing more than cooking and cleaning? What use is a “kitchen scholar?”

Marie-Jeanne, one of the women interviewed in the film, explains that while sexism is a factor for some people, her decision to keep her child out of school is purely financial. On a salary of $1.75 a day, she says that she cannot afford the $15 monthly school enrollment fee. The decision is obvious: When the choice is between food and education, the latter loses.

Another woman, unemployed since her factory closed in 2006, goes even further. “Misery and poverty facilitate violence. Anyone can get involved in crime. Anyone can become a thief.”

Dozens of people add their voices to the mix. Some describe whole families being forced to migrate to the capital city of Port-au-Prince because of ever-worsening conditions in the countryside; others reveal that they involuntarily forgo medical care for treatable diseases; and still others tell horrifying accounts of children dying of dehydration and hunger.

But there are small glimmers of hope. At the film’s conclusion, the viewers meet members of the Women’s Vigilance Committee (WVC), an organization that teaches female workers their rights and campaigns against violence. The WVC has also organized International Women’s Day celebrations, as well as marches and protests. As one WVC leader explains, “Women, if we don’t speak up, no one will speak up for us.”

Haiti is the poorest nation in the western hemisphere. But as Camille, another interview subject, explains, “Haitians are not starving because of lack of food.” Haitians are starving because of inept political leadership, ignorance, and preventable poverty.

Knowing this is the first step. From there, action is inevitable.

Written by: Eleanor J. Bader, November 13th 2009

Vodou Love Magic: A Practical Guide to Love, Sex, and Relationships

admin — Fri, 19 Jun 2009 18:30:00 +0000

By Kenaz Filan

Destiny Books

Kenaz Filan’s book Vodou Love Magic: A Practical Guide to Love, Sex, and Relationships is just that—a practical guide, arguably perhaps a little too practical. At times, it even felt like I was reading a self-help book with Vodou spells thrown in as a bonus. The chapter that focuses on treatments and cures for lovesickness has more detailed information than you may want to read about on codependency, sexual addiction and stalking—if you’re just trying to learn more about Haitian Vodou, that is.

Filan not only provides an in-depth definition of these issues; they are dissected and analyzed with the eye of an amateur psychologist with lots of “practical” advice on how to deal with them. So, what’s the first thing you should do if you realize you’re being stalked by a jilted lover, stranger, or an ex who just can’t accept it’s over? “Cut off all contact with your stalker now”, Filan recommends. Also: “Record every stalking incident” and “Take steps to ensure your safety.” If that isn’t practical advice, I don’t know what is.

Yet in this chapter, as in the rest of the book, the spells Filan suggests we consider trying in order to help us work through our problems will keep you interested. Having a hard time battling your sexual demons? Go to a crossroads with a tiny pouch filled with a corncob pipe, tobacco, a bottle of rum, and some loose change to consult Papa Legba (guardian of the gateway between the two worlds) for guidance. Feeling intense sadness and depression after a breakup? Performing Damballah’s (the most ancient and powerful of all the Iwa) Transmutation of Love Spell may help.

For those new to Haitian Vodou, Filan’s work is a good introduction to the Iwa (spirits) and how to go about contacting them for counsel. Along with Legba and Damballa, descriptions and spells for other Iwa include Freda (“bringer of beauty”), La Sirene (“bringer of glamour”), Ogou (“bringer of strength”), Simbi (“bringer of communication”) and Ghede (hilariously described as “bringer of booty calls”). Filan is an official Houngan (Vodou priest) and seems to have extensive knowledge about the spirits and the history of Haitian Vodou—though much of that knowledge is absent here). This is simply a light, enjoyable introduction to Vodou and how the ancient spirits can help you handle any kind of love drama imaginable.

Written by: Natalie Maxwell, June 19th 2009