Sauce Ti Malize - Creole Hot Sauce
Tim Hazell
"Konesans se richès" (Knowledge is Wealth)Pa joure manmam, manmam se kreol
(Don't diss my mom, my mom is Creole)
- Wyclef Jean
Haiti is mountainous and denuded, with only one third of its land under cultivation. Its capital and chief seaport, Port-au-Prince, was founded in 1749 by French sugar planters and has suffered the throes of earthquakes and civil warfare. Haiti remains the country with the lowest per capita income and densest population in the Caribbean. Its infrastructure is weakened by profound economic inequality, repression and political instability. Rather than emphasizing the island’s status as the most backward nation of the Indies, I wish to focus on the incendiary stews of Creole, a French dialect spoken by the majority of the population, celebrated in song and poetry by some of its leading writers and musicians. Haitian art is a product of African influences and voodoo (vodou), which incorporates gods of nature. A source of myths and rites from the original home of the inhabitants, voodoo is an official religion, along with Catholicism. Celebrated painters, singers and poets continue to bring their gifts to the world, a rich and bubbling Creole bounty.
In his book, “Iron Flowers,” published in New Orleans in 1979, African journalist and poet, Kalamu ya Salaam, wrote about the crushing poverty that surrounded him, but also gave us fleeting glimpses of rare beauty.
Performers such as Emeline Michel have achieved international recognition among Haiti’s new generation of writers and recording artists. Haitian music today is noted for its unusual combinations of traditional folk songs and contemporary lyrics that deal with stark realities. Social and political incongruity blend with a fierce patriotism inherited from slaves who founded the guerilla movement that ultimately liberated the island. Musical forms such as the native compas, twoubadou and more cosmopolitan sounds of jazz, rock and samba combine with complex lyrics and themes. Haitian Creole flows over the tongue and into the throat like honey, a savory mixture, the elegance of French and spice of dialect. Wyclef Jean stirs the pot with ‘Tande’ (Listen).Tomorrow’s Toussaints
this is Haiti, a state
slaves snatched from surprised masters,
its high lands, home of this
world’s sole successful
slave revolt. Haiti, where
freedom has flowered and flown
fascinating like long necked
flamingoes gracefully feeding
on snails in small pinkish
sunset colored sequestered ponds.
despite the meanness
and meagerness of life
eked out of eroding soil
and from exploited urban toil, there
is still so much beauty here in this
land where the sea sings roaring ashore
and fecund fertile hills lull and roll
quasi human in form
Wase mikrofon nan mwen se gouveman ouFrançois Dominique Toussaint L’Ouverture (1743 - 1803), Haiti’s first hero, embodied the strength of character of African slaves who worked the plantations, sons of kings and nobility brought to the sweltering island as forced labor. His name was bequeathed to him in 1791 as a member of a camp of insurgents fighting to liberate his black brethren. L’Ouverture means ‘the opening’ and Toussaint captured several cities for the Crown of Spain and France. Proclaimed Governor-for-Life of St-Domingue where he declared the abolition of slavery for the colony, he was defeated and arrested through treachery under the orders of Napoleon Bonaparte. Jailed and sent to the Fort de Joux prison in the icy mountains of France, Toussaint died of isolation, humiliation and neglect on April 7, 1803. His spirit and tenacity live on, vibrating in Creole rhythms and traditions of verse and song. French Creole culture, despite oppression and Haiti’s continuing struggles as the poorest nation in the Caribbean, manifests itself in poetry and voodoo lore like bright tropical plumage. Stubborn flowers continue to bloom despite foreign embargos and ongoing hardship. Closing words by Kalamu ya Salaam document a litany of survival.
(Give me the microphone I become your goverment)
Bon nom’m se Wyclef yo rele’m fanfan
(My real name’s Wyclef they call me fanfan)
Mwen gen on ti se yo rele roz salon
(I have a little sister that is called roz salon)
Mwen yon cheval ki vole chak swa
(I got a horse who flies every night)
Mwen gen cheve pwav mwen pa vle cheve soi
(I got a nappy head I don’t have silky hair)
Bad boy ayisien ki soti en ayiti
(Haitian bad boy straight from Haiti)
there is beauty here
in the unyielding way
our people,
colored charcoal, and
banana beige, and
shifting subtle shades
of ripe mango, or strongly
brown-black, sweet
as the such from
sun scorched staffs
of sugar cane,
have decided
we shall survive
we will live on