The Haitian Trilogy: Plays

by Derek Walcott

  POMPEY

  I hot, too.

  (He draws ANGELLE apart and whispers to her. ANGELLE nods and runs over to the MUSICIANS.)

  My foot is like two yams, mulatresse.

  But I can play drum, and I could sing,

  I have the best voice in this valley.

  And for you, I ask them to play this song.

  Come dance. Or you doesn’t dance with niggers?

  One day you will dance in this big house.

  (The CHORUS joins in. ANGELLE claps. POMPEY draws YETTE gently to the ring in the yard. ANGELLE impulsively runs up and hugs YETTE. POMPEY dances.)

  Is I who write this song.

  Is my own song. Now,

  When you hear this song, up in that hill,

  When you hear it as you planting,

  You will know, down in this valley

  Is Pompey singing. And I will sing,

  I will sing every day, every day,

  Until you get so vex you will married me.

  (He sings his song. The SLAVES watching, TOUSSAINT grinning.)

  Or you doesn’t married niggers?

  (YETTE laughs. They dance.)

  Scene 12

  Exterior. Night. The barracks yard. A circle of SLAVES’ faces watching others dancing. Travelling behind them, MOISE, a fine-featured, tall young black, a bag over his shoulder, a soft hat still dripping from rain on the back of his head. In another group, showing off for YETTE, POMPEY telling stories with excessive gestures. YETTE, fascinated by the obvious intensity of his approach, assessing him. Laughter.

  YETTE

  For your remembrance, in case you think I easy.

  And for my own pride. I …

  POMPEY

  Yes, I know. Come on. He gone.

  Scene 13

  Interior. The mansion; morning streaks the windows. ANTON, dressed for the day’s work, comes down to breakfast. He senses something. He draws near the breakfast table, which is set with cutlery, crystal, excessively so, and as he draws slowly near his seat: He sees a white rooster, headless, and next to it a knife, folded in a napkin.

  Scene 14

  Exterior. A hill path, rain dripping on its green. Ochre mud. Below, the mist, the farms, TOUSSAINT and MOISE.

  TOUSSAINT (Embracing MOISE.)

  I will send for you …

  When the time come.

  (He looks towards the valley. Belle Maison. A bell ringing in the field.)

  They are going to work now.

  All of them. The bell.

  And then the slow, melancholy shell.

  (A conch shell blows.)

  Go, then, go.

  (MOISE turns and enters the low, wet scrub, then down into the plain. Then he turns, points towards the hills. TOUSSAINT nods.)

  Scene 15

  Exterior. The yard. ANTON runs across the wet yard into the stables. He has the carcass of the rooster.)

  ANTON

  Toussaint!

  Toussaint!

  Papa!

  (CALIXTE-BREDA appears. ANTON is holding the headless carcass.)

  It’s here. It’s here, Papa.

  They started. They have started.

  (The barracks. SLAVES emerge.)

  Ungrateful bastards! Bitches! Pompey, my horse!

  Saddle him! I’ll find that coachman. I’ll find him,

  And I’ll roast him there!

  CALIXTE-BREDA

  You are under strain, Anton. You are not well.

  ANTON (To the SLAVES)

  I used to pray for you, I loved you,

  I was one of you. And then this …

  (To CALIXTE-BREDA)

  I’m going to the other estates.

  That will teach you to love and trust niggers, sir.

  And when I come back …

  (He circles the yard.)

  When I come back, you will tell me who …

  (ANTON runs off across the yard. The SLAVES emerge around CALIXTE-BREDA. One of them picks up the carcass and flings it into the drenched ashes. They form a ring around him. Friendly. Two of the WOMEN lead him back towards the house.)

  FIRST WOMAN

  I know is not Toussaint. I know that.

  You must believe me, Monsieur Calixte.

  CALIXTE-BREDA

  Marie … I don’t know … I don’t know, pour vrai.

  Where is he, then? Where is he?

  SLAVE

  There was a man with him when we was dancing …

  SECOND WOMAN

  I know him. Everybody know him.

  It is his nephew Moise.

  CALIXTE-BREDA

  You all are good.

  FIRST WOMAN

  It was not Toussaint. Try and believe that.

  CALIXTE-BREDA

  I hope so. Go inside. It’s raining.

  You will catch cold.

  (He leaves the yard, enters the arches of the house.)

  Scene 16

  Exterior. The sky. A headless carcass of a white rooster whirled around by BOUKMANN. Sound of drumming, military. BOUKMANN, holding up a voodoo fetish, addressing his GUERRILLAS.

  BOUKMANN

  Entendez, Congos, Aradas, Ibos,

  Entendez, Nabos, Mandingos, Haoussas!

  Par là c’est les Français, ou ka ’tendre

  Bangalang ces tambours-y-eux!

  Maix nous mêmes, nous mêmes,

  Aradas, Ibos, Congos,

  Nabos, Mandingos, Haoussas!

  Nous pas ni fusils, nous pas ni cannon,

  Nous pas ni trompette,

  We have the charms of our gods,

  And we not going to die!

  Personne, personne kai mourir ’jourd’hui,

  No black man is going to die today!

  (He holds up his charm.)

  Nous ni Vodun, nous ni Shango!

  Alors, au combat! Congos,

  Aradas, Ibos, Haoussas!

  And if we die, even if we die,

  Our souls will go back!

  Back home, to Africa!

  Let’s go! A’nous!

  (BOUKMANN, running on foot, leads the charge. GUERRILLAS descend into the plain, where the FRENCH CAVALRY advance steadily in formal squares. DESSALINES, above them, watches the massacre and surprise of the BLACKS.)

  DESSALINES

  Couillon!… Couillon!… Crazy nigger!

  (BOUKMANN, his voodoo finery in bloody tatters, lies under the dead bodies of two of his GUERRILLAS.)

  FIRST CAVALRYMAN

  Boukmann! Look for Boukmann,

  He’s the one we want.

  SECOND CAVALRYMAN

  I can’t tell one from the other.

  They’re all dead anyway. I don’t know which one is his head.

  THIRD CAVALRYMAN

  Come on, that’s enough. After this,

  Who the hell would try again?

  (They ride off.)

  BOUKMANN

  Biassou! Biassou! You dead?

  Biassou! Answer!

  (Another figure rises from a heap of dead GUERRILLAS. BIASSOU. BOCKMANN staggers towards him. They meet, and together, in silence, they revolve slowly to take in the shock of their defeat. DESSALINES, whistling, comes down the hill. BIASSOU points and draws his sword.)

  BIASSOU

  They think we finish, eh? They think so?

  They will pay for this. Not just the soldiers.

  Men, women, children. Their animals, their houses,

  Everything. They will sweat with cowardice

  At everything black.

  (DESSALINES arrives. Silence. DESSALINES extends his hand.)

  DESSALINES

  General Boukmann. General Biassou.

  I am General Jean Jacques Dessalines.

  BOUKMANN

  General? Where’s your army?

  DESSALINES

  Where’s yours?

  Never mind. Pas la peine, messieurs.

  So far, I know nothing about the art of war,

  But I know plenty about the art of revenge,


  And I’m here to teach you niggers

  A few simple tricks.

  (BOUKMANN and BIASSOU study him. DESSALINES smiles.)

  Lesson one. For the time being, messieurs,

  There is no God. Not black, not white.

  Don’t trust any of them. Can you say it?

  Pour a present, pas ni Bon Dieu …

  BIASSOU

  For the time being there is no God …

  (BOUKMANN turns to BIASSOU.)

  DESSALINES

  Your magic could turn these dead into zombies.

  An army of shadows that bullets would go through.

  That would really frighten the French. Imagine.

  A harvest of transparent soldiers. You have wounded.

  You have dead. Save what you can. Come, start.

  You need a good doctor. A white one.

  (He moves among the dead. BOUKMANN, BIASSOU help lift the wounded.)

  Scene 17

  A camp. Night. TOUSSAINT helping the wounded. He stops, exhausted.

  TOUSSAINT

  … and now there has begun, after the revolt of Boukmann, such a series of savage, vicious scenes of hatred and revenge, such godless brutality, that I felt ashamed of my own race. For what they could not inflict on the army, they took out on the citizens. All the hatred and humiliation of a hundred years … You hear, Moise? (MOISE, sitting quietly on a log, is watching his anguish.) … of a hundred years is being accounted for. They sawed a planter in half between boards, they nailed a slave who tried to save his master, they nailed him to a door. They are killing children, women … The slave they nailed … I knew him. His name was Bartolo …

  MOISE

  They did us worse …

  TOUSSAINT

  We are supposed to be fighting a war.

  To kill a child, that’s a childish thing.

  MOISE

  Why don’t you teach them?

  TOUSSAINT

  Teach them, at my age?

  I put earth in their wounds, I soothe their orifices

  With herbs, make poultices from country medicines,

  And they cannot stop bleeding. The soil itself

  Is bleeding, and I can’t stop it. I don’t want

  Revenge, there’s no strategy in revenge, Moise.

  MOISE

  You too good-hearted, Uncle. You want to see

  The marks on my back?

  TOUSSAINT

  Bring me that hot water

  And bring some clean rags. They’re bringing

  Their wounded. They’re severely wounded

  From murdering women, good niggers, and children,

  And their good doctor Toussaint

  Must look after them.

  (He shouts.)

  NIGGERS!

  (Silence.)

  NIGGERS! I AM HERE TO SERVE SOLDIERS, NOT ANIMALS!

  (DESSALINES enters the clearing with BIASSOU and BOUKMANN. They stop.)

  After you kill the women and children and the old planters, after you burn the land and butcher the cattle and crucify all the good niggers, THERE IS STILL THE ARMY!

  (DESSALINES sits, chuckling He restrains BOUKMANN, who moves, sword drawn, towards TOUSSAINT. TOUSSAINT sees him coming but ignores him, addressing the GUERRILLAS.)

  Now, all you great women killers and children killers and good-nigger crucifiers have known me as Toussaint the coachman, Toussaint the good doctor of this comical army … Well, I did not leave to join a massacre. I came, at forty-seven years old, to fight a war. I don’t see any war. I see a bunch of crapons, savages, I see nothing that is worth my life. Well, it is very simple. There will now be an army, and I will discipline that army. I’m old, but I’ve read the strategy of war!

  (BOUKMANN folds his arms and shakes his head.)

  Moise. Relieve General Boukmann of his sword.

  The rest of you, get up on your feet,

  Form fours, get your belongs together,

  And prepare to march out of here.

  (Silence. MOISE moves towards BOUKMANN, who keeps slicing the air around his head, and MOISE stops. TOUSSAINT goes over to BOUKMANN.)

  Look here, Boukmann. That is my nephew.

  Now, don’t waste my time. Come on, give me.

  (BOUKMANN turns to DESSALINES. DESSALINES rises and moves among the SOLDIERS.)

  BOUKMANN

  I don’t need you all. I can fight alone.

  I will start another army and you will see.

  (He exits.)

  DESSALINES

  Come on, come on, get off your black arses now, niggers,

  All that foolishness is finished. You heard what the

  Old man said. You going to be an army. You’ll have

  Nice uniforms, you coward goat fuckers, maybe even horses,

  But right now you have to form fours and march. Come on.

  (He moves among the GUERRILLAS kicking and slapping and drenching them with the hot water.)

  That is the way you want it, Uncle, right?

  Attention!

  Forward, march!

  (Desultorily, then more confidently, the GUERRILLAS march out of the grove. TOUSSAINT puts his arm around DESSALINES. They follow.)

  Scene 18

  Exterior. Noon, Sunday. A patch of arable land behind YETTE’s shack beyond the fields of Belle Maison. Church bells strike the noon Angelus. POMPEY, in a large straw hat, sweating, cursing as he ploughs. YETTE is in the shade of a single tree. She shouts, but he cannot hear.

  YETTE

  Don’t work so hard, is not your land,

  And today is Sunday.

  Come and drink something! Come!

  (She pours him some lemonade from a carafe.)

  POMPEY

  Look at you. You stay in the sun so long

  And you will get black.

  YETTE

  I glad. The white part of me is the town,

  The black part of me is the country.

  But the place coming well, and I thank you.

  I thank you with all my heart, Pompey,

  I don’t think I was ever so happy.

  Lie down, and I’ll fan you with my hat.

  (She fans his body.)

  POMPEY

  I must finish, I have to bring back the plough,

  I have to …

  YETTE

  Lie down, Oh God.

  Rest, non?

  POMPEY

  Somebody have to plant for people to eat.

  Not everybody can be a soldier.

  And they burning down this country …

  All the estates … One day they could come here …

  (YETTE and POMPEY are in the shade. The wind cools them, rustling the leaves …)

  YETTE

  Is so nice here. I will never go back.

  I can’t believe that over on these hills

  Niggers killing each other, people dying …

  Is so quiet and happy here, I feel guilty.

  And since you come on Sundays to help me with the land …

  What I can tell you?…

  POMPEY

  Tell me you will never go. Say it again …

  YETTE

  You want all your women to be jealous …

  POMPEY

  Say it again. I finish with all of them …

  YETTE

  I am happy here. I am happy on this land.

  I will never go anywhere again …

  POMPEY

  We will see …

  YETTE

  I swear on my cross.

  (She kisses her crucifix.)

  That poor mule in the sun …

  POMPEY

  You don’t find the mule looking like Toussaint?

  (POMPEY juts out his lower lip, YETTE laughs. Silence. Peace.)

  All Mr. Calixte do is sit around his room,

  Praying that Monsieur Anton will come back …

  But that old man Toussaint, victory after victory,

  Battle after battle, and at his age.

 
; (He takes out a bamboo fife and begins to play.)

  Thank God for this peace.

  And for you, too, my Yette.

  Come in the house, I have something to show you.

  (He pulls her to him in the shade.)

  Scene 19

  Exterior. Sunset. A long country road fenced with stakes. TOUSSAINT, BIASSOU, DESSALINES, MOISE walking. A severed head with a tricorn, with this sign nailed under it:

  FRENCHMEN AND FREE-COLOUREDS

  THIS NEGRO’S HEAD WAS BOUKMANN.

  HERE IS THE FUTURE OF ALL

  ENEMIES OF THE REPUBLIC.

  DESSALINES

  Read it, somebody! Biassou!

  BIASSOU (Reading.)

  Frenchmen and free coloureds,

  This Negro’s head was Boukmann.

  Here is the future of all

  Enemies of the Republic.

  (DESSALINES kisses the lips of the severed head, then hurls it away.)

  DESSALINES

  Adieu, Boukmann! Long live Dessalines.

  Vive Jean Jacques Dessalines!

  (The troop moves on into the dusk.)

  Scene 20

  Belle Maison. CALIXTE-BREDA reading a letter.

  CALIXTE-BREDA

  Pompey! Pompey! I heard from Monsieur Anton.

  (POMPEY runs in.)

  Listen. He has joined the mulatto army!

  (He reads.)

  If you love me, as you have always said, like your own son, then I ask you to help our cause against those who betrayed you, those who are now butchering those who have mixed blood, like your son, by sending us money to buy arms and ammunition to defend ourselves. After they have destroyed the whites, they will butcher the mulattos. Do not trust a single black. Toussaint, whom you treated like a younger brother, has shown you this. I am one of General Rigaud’s trusted aides. This map will show you how to reach us. I do not expect to see you ever again, but if you should find it in your heart to see me again, you could be proud of me; I am, you see, Papa, no longer a weakling. I love you and forgive you because I have become a man, and it is as a man that I would like to face you again.

  Come, Pompey, we will go to him. Come! Now!

  (He paces the living room, pauses.)

  Pompey. You and I, we will find him.

  You will help me find him, Pompey.

  You know this country like your own hand.

  (They exit.)

  Scene 21