Kanaval

February 27, 2011

Carnival is an exciting and colorful event that is celebrated throughout the Carribean, with each island having a unique method and timing of celebrating it. While each are unique, they are commonly known for their elaborate costumes, bands, and parades. Carnival is rooted in European history and falls prior to Lent. It is believed that Carnival in the Carribbean began in the 1700s with slaves blending African traditions in using masks and dancing to scare away bad spirits with mocking the masquerade balls of their plantation owners.

In Haiti, Carnival ("kanaval" in Haitian Kreyol) is celebrated both in Jacmel and in Port-au-

Prince. Kanaval in Jacmel occurs two weekends prior to Fat Tuesday and the Kanaval in Port-au-Prince occurs the weekend prior to Fat Tuesday. Kanaval in Port-au-Prince draws more people, but mostly showcases Haitian Kompas music while Kanaval in Jacmel is known for its traditional paper mache masks, costumes and ra-ra bands.

I was lucky enough to be able to go to Jacmel to experience Kanaval this year. I learned just how creative Haitian artists and people are. I was able to see what they created and what a blend of history, politics, current events and so much more they were able to create and express through this amazing event.

As Leah Gordon describes, "The characters and costume partially betray their roots in medieval European carnival, but the Jacmellian masquerades are also a fusion of clandestine Vodou, ancestral memory, political satire and personal revelation. The lives of the indigenous Taino Indians, the slaves' revolt and more recently state corruption are all played out using drama and costume on Jacmel's streets... [Haitian culture] is a vibrant, living avatar for not only Haitian history, but for all our histories.

During Kanaval, many people walk the streets in masks made from paper mache, singing, dancing and acting out skits. Below is a video of a group who approached us while we were on the beach.

Next, we headed to the parade in town where people showcase their creations.

One of the standard groups present in the parade each year are the "chaloska". They dress in military gear, stove pipe hats and wear masks that have large red lips and animal teeth. They march in rememberance of the 1915 massacre of political priosoners, carried out by the chief of police at the time, Charles Oscar Otienne. They perform politically charged mock trials and read lists of offenses that satirize the Tonton Macouts, secret police of the Duvalier era.

Another staple in the parade are the lanse kòd "rope throwers". They cover themselves in a concoction of cane syrup and powdered charcoal and dart at the crowd, swinging long whips in the air. They often wear Beelzebub's horns and are demonic representations of the experience of slavery.

The political history is always present within the parade, changing from year to year, but always present. Kanaval becomes an open forum for the people to discuss and depict the political struggles and instability as well as the catastrophes and other things the country has endured. Above is a photograph of Aristide along with his passport upon his "return" to Haiti (this did actually happen in March, but prior to his return, it was just joked about). Also above they are dressed as the UN troops who have a very controversial presence in Haiti.

These are the Zel Mathurin (Wings of Mathurin) who are winged devils that act out the battle between good and evil.

The parade also embraces events of current concern. This year, it featured cholera. They had a person depicting the microbe of cholera, a water tap, a bar of soap, a piece of poop, a trash can, a fly and skeletons. The fly flew around showing different means of contamination leading to infection and death by cholera. I thought it was particularly clever.

Other characters that were depicted in the parade included birds, prophets and saints, traditional dancers, heroes of the Haitian culture, creatures of the imagination and so much more.

Above are some of the ones I found impressive from birds to the dinosaurs "fighting" for the crowd. It is hard to believe it is all made from paper mache! I was amazed at their creativity and artistic excellence.

I should also mention that Michael and I got to meet Sweet Mickey (now the incoming president of Haiti) and Wyclef Jean at the parade.

It was a wonderful weekend and experience. I learned how amazingly creative and talented Haitian artists are as well as was able to experience an event that was able to showcase so many different aspects of Haitian culture and history. Kanaval is not just a fun event, but an event that provides a means of expressing the many things they have endured over the years.

Tragedy and justice?

February 2011

Alliance came into my room at 5am, awakening me saying, “I have bad news. Clyford is dead.” I was confused and couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I got up and went outside to find two other staff members sitting outside. I asked what had happened and they said he was killed last night, but they didn’t know much more. They said they had all received messages from other people and everyone heard the same thing, so it must be true. I was instructed to get dressed because we were going to his house. When we arrived, a women was on the floor wailing. They had to restrain her and put her on a bed. His family was walking around in a panic, as if they were looking for him. A group arrived from down the street and went to the club where he had been last night and confirmed everyone’s fears. He had been killed last night.

People were just pouring into the house to see what was going on and to offer condolences to the family. As shocking as it all was, it became all the more real to me when I saw his mother and she grabbed onto my arm and just started shouting and began to collapse. I helped her to a seat and she sat down next to me, wailing and rocking back and forth, yelling – “Where is my son? No, No, he is supposed to be here with me eating right now. Where is my son? This can’t be true. He survived January 12^th. He can’t be gone now!” My heart just ripped into a million pieces. How do you ever console someone at a time like this? Their loss was so profound and their emotions were so deeply expressed, all I could do was sit there with tears streaming down my face.

As the day went on, more and more details emerged about what had happened to Clyford. He had gone to a club down the street by himself and was inadvertently hit in the head with a bottle (whether someone was trying to start a fight or how that happened is unclear to me), he approached the group of guys responsible and they proceeded to beat him up and stabbed him twice in the chest. He was put on a moto to take him to the hospital, but he died on the way. The moto driver just dumped his body on the street and left him there (I later learned it was because the driver didn't want to be accused of having killed him).

All of this was so unbelievable to me. First, that my good friend and colleague was no longer with us, secondly that something like this would actually happen in a place where I felt so safe (the whole town was so upset about it because these things really don't happen here), but lastly that other people could have such a disregard for another person's life.

Me & Clyford at Kara and Guesly's wedding reception, December 2010

As the days following his death passed, I visited his house often. I would always find his mother sitting and rocking back and forth in a chair, sometimes crying and moaning and sometimes with just a blank look on her face, and the mother of his child was either crying, laying in bed or just sitting there with her head in her hands. The most difficult part was to see his 3 year old daughter walking around, unaware of what happened to her father. It broke my heart to hear her ask Alliance, "Where is my Daddy?"

Our whole team at work took this very hard and I just wish there was a way to console them and comfort them, but there wasn't much I could do. As difficult as life is already and as much as they have had to endure, I knew this was the last thing they needed. I soon learned how much more difficult it appears to be for many Haitians to deal with a death that occurs after January 12th. It is as if they seem to think that if someone made it out of the earthquake alive, that they've made it, so when a tragedy happens, they take it that much harder and it makes it that much more difficult to deal with.

While I had always known that one of the things that Haitians spend the most money on is funerals, I had never actually experienced a funeral, let alone one for my close friend. It is tradition to have a wake the night before the funeral where friends and family gather, play games and drink. The first time I saw one, I thought it was a party. The best way to describe a wake in Haiti is a celebration of life the night before the funeral. On the night before Clyford's funeral, I went with all of the guys from work to his wake. I saw the toll it took on the guys as they just kept saying, "You don't understand, tomorrow his body will be placed under the ground and Clyford will be gone forever." In Haitian culture, it is very important to bury their loved ones body and many believe the soul can not rest until the body has a proper burial.

Sadly, another tragic event occurred on the night of the wake. Alliance, his brother, Yvens, and several other people were being driven home from the wake. The driver had been drinking and was so mad about Clyford's death that he started driving too fast. They told him to slow down, but he didn't listen. He ended up losing control of the car, going off the side of the road and hit a cement lotto stand. They all went to the hospital, but tragically the driver (a good family friend of Clyford's) died. Luckily, the rest of them survived, but one had a severe brain injury, and others had stitches, lost teeth, etc. It is hard to understand why so many tragic things were happening - how much more can they stand to take? They all said to me that it meant that Clyford didn't want to go alone.

The car after the accident

What was left of the lotto stand

On the day of the funeral, everyone gathered in the Catholic church in town. They passed out programs and flyers that said

"Justice for the Rebecca family" with gruesome pictures of Clyford's dead body and the names of some of the known murderers to put pressure on the police who normally would not do much to convict the murderers. At the end of the funeral, we began the walk to the cemetery. The path chosen took us by his house and the club where he was murdered. Everyone stopped in front of the club and they lifted the casket up over their heads until they reached the cemetery. All along the way people were screaming, breaking down, collapsing and shaking violently. It all reached a climax at the entrance to the cemetery and many didn't have the strength to enter. I was walking with another employee, an adult male, and he just fell to his knees wailing and couldn't stand or enter the cemetery. It was heart wrenching to see. I was struck by this completely physical expression of emotion. I had never seen anything like it in my life. It is also strikingly different from the stoic way Haitians conduct themselves daily. I learned that it is as if there is this window for grieving, between when the person dies and when they are buried, after that, they must move forward, so they let out all their emotions before it is time to put it behind them.

The procession to the cemetery

Not only was I struck by this physical expression of emotion leading up to the burial but also what a lack of justice there is for the Haitian people To live in a country where there is very little hope unless you have power or money in order for someone who has brutally taken another person's life to be punished, was unbelievable to me. Everyone laughed when I asked if the police would find them. They said they are far away from here and won't be found. What kind of justice is that?

Clyford Rebecca: November 4, 1980 - February 5, 2011