by Noah Richler
I can hear you asking yourself how something that supposedly exists in the past can actually do this. For some peoples, be they the traditional Native American, the African American, or the Latin American — for any peoples that have been colonized, and enslaved, and who have faced genocide — there exists an acute understanding that the past and the future are present. History is not just some vague and abstract concept of what once happened. For what ‘once’ happened continues to resonate so strongly that it is alive, it is living. History is something so tangible that it’s why a cop will pull you over for no more reason than the color of your skin, why you’re treated differently than a white man or woman when you apply for a loan at the bank, why you’re forced to live on a reservation or in a ghetto, why the chances of dying violently for you are far higher than so many others. History breathes life into the present, enough so that those who find themselves on the wrong side of it continue to fight for justice in future relations.
Here’s another example of how the history of the original peoples of Louisiana, the place where I live, does not fade away.
Some say that it was in the 1960’s that the Mardi Gras Indian gangs held a powwow and declared that the gun and the knife should be replaced by needle and thread and song. You’ve probably seen photos of the Mardi Gras Indians — wildly costumed and beaded and feathered African-American men and women who look more like Las Vegas prototypes of what natives are supposed to look like. The Mardi Gras Indians are divided into a number of neighborhood “tribes” or “gangs” and they use, instead of violence, their intricately constructed costumes and the music of their voices and drums and tambourines to do battle with other tribes and gangs. Their bead and feather work is the envy of Indigenous seamstresses anywhere, and their songs are some of the most famous to ever come out of a city known for its brilliant music — and they continue to dictate the cultural direction of Louisiana, the banana republic. The original locals continue to provide direction. The past and the future are present.
What is taken away is suppressed, not lost, and all the more present when freedom is the thing purloined. The uncertain thing becomes a weapon, electric and vivid in the mind of the person to whom it belongs.
A RENDERING
NALO HOPKINSON
Canada, Africa, Jamaica — somewhere.
We were taken from a continent that wasn’t paradise in every aspect, but in some. Of course, there was strife as well as peace; poverty as well as wealth; cruelty as well as kindness. Of course, some of us were designated to suffer at the hands of the powerful. After all, our peoples were, and still are, every bit as human as the ones who would arrive upon their shores. The difference was one of scale. Who could have imagined the centuries, the toll upon humanity, upon culture, language, history; or the lies, the continuing brutality, the depth of depredation that is the Maafa?
They come in ships, alien invaders, with their strangely coloured skin, their probes, their prods. They experiment on us, make us the cyborgs of their world-ravaging machines.
They take and they take and they take.
The sister of a king successfully negotiates a treaty for the return of their captured citizens. The treaty is never honoured. The king, in despair, kills himself.
The head of a nation is lost.
His country’s people are never returned.
They are stolen away and lost.
A man is taken into slavery. One day, during forced labour on a small island far away from his home, his arm is crushed between the teeth of a sugar cane press.
A limb is mangled and lost.
Another slave, a manual labourer, watches as her family is split up and sold away. She herself is beaten so badly that her skull is split open. The damage cannot be repaired. For the rest of her life, she suffers seizures and narcolepsy.
Her health is never the same.
An enslaved boy watches as other slaves forced to wear the “scold’s bridle,” an iron instrument of torture that prevents each from speaking or eating.
They are rendered silent.
A continent is ravaged, its body torn to pieces, the pieces scattered.
And yet;
The one-armed man becomes a bokor, wise in the knowledge of herbs. He leads a rebellion in which the enslaved poison the food, water, and animals of those who keep them captive.
A single arm can fight.
(Aché, Makandal!)
The dead king’s sister takes the throne and command of the army. She proves to be a brilliant military strategist. With the help of her two sisters, she wages a decades-long war of resistance against the invaders.
Cut off one of our heads, and we grow back three.
(Aché, Nzinga! Aché, Kifunji! Aché, Mukambu!)
A woman rebel leads a group of freedom fighters on a small island. The soldiers of the invading force swear that when they fire guns at her, she is able to catch the bullets between her ass cheeks and fart them back at the same speed at which they were shot. The soldiers refuse to fight any longer. The woman’s people are given their own land, under their own rule.
(Aché, Granny Nanny!)
The enslaved boy defies the punishment for speaking when owners didn’t want to hear, and writes his autobiography. His story leads to the passing of an anti-slavery act.
Take our words, and we shall spit them back.
(Aché, Olaudah Equiano!)
The brain-damaged woman escapes and then returns nineteen times to lead members of her family and over 300 enslaved people into freedom.
(Aché, Harriet Tubman!)
Head.
Limbs.
Tongues.
People.
Stolen, we find them again.
Damage our bodies, yet we can still be healers.
Slain, defeated, discouraged, we rise up again.
Take our independence, we claim it again.
And again.
And again.
I couldn’t make this shit up. I didn’t have to.
Rawhead and bloody bones, get up and dance!
So you lose your freedom to someone who may well be no different than you, though you’d like to think so. But no matter, you win the revolution. You are Jean-Jacques Dessalines, you are his children. You are the first leader of Haiti, the first republic of freed slaves, the first independent black nation in the history of the Americas! Slain, defeated and, discouraged, you made your people rise up. You claimed your independence. But you are still men, still women, still children, and the first thing you will do, Dessalines, is to make others suffer (after you have made yourself Emperor). You will make sure that what happened does not happen only once, but again, and again, and again. Neither are you lost, Dessalines. There will always be someone to take your place.
FATHERS OF THE LAND: SCENES FROM A WORK-IN-PROGRESS
EDWIDGE DANTICAT
Haiti and USA
INT. PATRICK’S HOUSE, PORT-AU-PRINCE—TODAY
Patrick’s living room has little furniture. The walls are covered with masks, faces of Haitian Liberators and Freedom fighters.
There is one mask and a painting of Dessalines which stands out more than the others. At the bottom of the Dessalines painting are written the words: “Freedom or Death”.
Patrick is working on yet another mask. He absent-mindedly lectures Maurice as he works. Marie Helene is sewing a feathered carnival costume nearby.
PATRICK
The mask, it transforms. It is a way of welcoming another spirit into your body. When I put on a mask, I am literally saying, I don’t want to be who I am. This is who I would rather be. My own identify is lost underneath. The person wearing the mask becomes the mask. You know what I mean?
MAURICE
Why Dessalines?
PATRICK
Don’t you know all the myths about Dessalines? They said he was able t
o be in two places at once. He had the gift of doubling. He could be at home in bed with his wife while his double self was fighting a great battle. That’s always fascinated me.
MARIE HELENE
The other night, a boy was arrested because he read some lines from Dessalines.
PATRICK
The legends of Dessalines say that he’s always had power, a transforming power over people.
MARIE HELENE
The boy’s speech moved the crowd to kill a soldier.
Patrick jokingly raises what he has of the mask to Marie Helene’s face. The mask is of Dessalines’ face.
MARIE HELENE (Contd.)
Keep that thing far away from me.
MAURICE (to Patrick)
You wouldn’t have to worry about getting arrested for expressing Dessalines.
PATRICK
My father, the General, said that in matters of honor, there is no family. That was his motto.
When I was twelve I stole an apple from the palace cafeteria. My father had me arrested and whipped. I spent three nights in jail eating stale bread and water.
MAURICE
I remember.
MARIE HELENE (to Maurice)
He’s never forgotten that.
PATRICK
Would you forget something like that?
MARIE HELENE
He probably thought he was helping you to become a man.
PATRICK (to Maurice)
About your father — I have some contacts. I can have some people looking for him.
MAURICE
I’m torn. Maybe he’s hiding. In which case, I wouldn’t want to find him and get him into trouble.
PATRICK
Everything is upside down here, mon vieux. If your father stepped on the wrong toes, maybe he is better left unfound.
MAURICE
Did you see him often?
PATRICK
Who?
MAURICE
Papa.
PATRICK
Unless I have a reason to, I don’t exactly run in those circles.
Patrick keeps working on his mask. Maurice looks at the mask more closely.
MAURICE
It’s looking good.
PATRICK
It has a twin. I will give it to you.
Patrick takes a Dessalines mask down from the wall. He gives it to Maurice. Maurice raises the mask over his face and then takes it off.
* * *
INT. HAITIAN PUBLIC SCHOOL—DAY
STUDENTS are painting the side of a building as they recite their lessons. We see some of the Children from Patrick’s house in the group. JESSY is taking pictures from across the fence. Ana is with her. The TEACHER, a tall middle-aged woman, tries to look prim and proper as she stands in the sun reviewing a History lesson with her class. She asks questions and the students answer in a bored sing song.
TEACHER
Who is Boukman?
STUDENTS
Boukman is the maroon that headed the ceremony which led to the slave rebellion from which we’ve gained our independence.
TEACHER
Who are Dessalines, Toussaint, Christophe and Petion?
STUDENTS
Dessalines, Toussaint, Christophe and Petion are the fathers of the nation headed by-
The Students are not sure what to answer. The Teacher looks down at her book and pencils in yet another change.
TEACHER
— the nation headed by General Albert Vincent and his very brave forces.
STUDENTS
Dessalines, Toussaint, Christophe and Petion are the founders of the nation headed by General Vincent and his brave forces.
Outside the school fence, Jessy continues to take pictures. She tries to remain unseen so as not to tamper with the atmosphere.
JESSY
Here, history changes faster than people change their underwear.
Inside the school fence, the Teacher continues with her lesson.
TEACHER
Is the army for life?
STUDENTS
The army lives forever in the heart and the blood of the people.
In the group, we see two TEENAGE BROTHERS with severe angry looks on their faces.
TEENAGE BROTHERS
The army lives in the latrines and the ass of the people.
TEACHER (to Brothers)
I did not hear your answers. I want to hear you louder.
TEENAGE BROTHERS
The army lives in the heart and blood of the people.
Jessy and Ana look on as though they can feel the Brothers’ shame.
* * *
INT. PALACE CORRIDORS—NIGHT
The General is waiting in the corridor for Jacqueline to come out. Women walk past him on their way to the bathroom. Some men walk past to in order to get to another bathroom further down the hall.
INT. WOMAN’S BATHROOM—NIGHT
Jacqueline adjusts her clothes and freshens up some very red make up on her face.
INT. PALACE CORRIDORS ENTRYWAY—NIGHT
A man wearing the mask of Dessalines walks past the Guards to go into the hallway.
INT. PALACE CORRIDORS—NIGHT
The General calls out to Jacqueline.
GENERAL
You cannot stay in there all night.
INT. PATRICK’S HOUSE—NIGHT
Marie Helene is lying in bed sleeping. She moves over on the bed and reaches for the spot where Patrick would be.
INT. PALACE CORRIDORS—NIGHT
Masked Dessalines starts corning-down the long corridor. The GENERAL looks away from the bathroom door and sees Masked Dessalines coming. He recognizes the Mask.
The General starts to smile.
A few people walk by as Masked Dessalines gets closer and closer to the General.
Soon, Masked Dessalines and the General are almost face to face. Masked Dessalines pulls out a gun. The gun is covered with a flap from his jacket. Masked Dessalines shoots the General.
INT. PATRICK’S HOUSE—NIGHT
Marie Helene is looking all over her house for Patrick.
INT. PALACE CORRIDORS—NIGHT
Masked Dessalines goes on pumping bullets into the General. People in the hall run away in shock. The Guards rush down the hallway and shoot Masked Dessalines. Both the General and Masked Dessalines are now on the ground in a pool of blood.
Jacqueline rushes out of the bathroom. She notices Masked Dessalines and the General lying on the floor. Masked Dessalines is on top of the General.
The Guards rush forward and shoves Masked Dessalines aside.
Jacqueline removes the mask. It is Patrick. He is dead.
The General is bleeding profusely, but is still alive. One of the Guards hold him up while another one rushes for help.
EXT. PALACE LAWNS—NIGHT
The dancing has stopped as news of the shooting spreads from one group to the next. Robert, Ana, and Jessy have regrouped. They sense something is wrong. The General is rushed to the gate on a stretcher. He is bleeding profusely. The Officers and some AMBULANCE WORKERS are trying to keep him alive. Patrick is carried out on a stretcher behind the General. His face is uncovered. The stretcher is rushed past Ana, Robert, Jessy. Jacqueline and Nerin follow the stretchers.
INT. GENERAL’S AMBULANCE—NIGHT
A group of TRAUMA WORKERS surround the General. They are pump shocking his heart, trying to revive him. Blood soaks the gauze around his head. The General’s eyes are closed. However, his pupils are racing back and forth under his eyelids.
He sees a flashback of Masked Dessalines coming towards him. He sees his own shooting and Patrick being shot. He sees the moment when Jacqueline raises the mask.
His body goes limp. T
he Trauma Workers try to revive him, but he’s dead.
INT. PALACE CORRIDOR—NIGHT
We see Patrick’s mask on the floor surrounded by all the blood from the shootings.
INT. CHIC HOTEL LOBBY—NIGHT
Robert is phoning in his story, that the General is dead.
EXT. PATRICK’S HOUSE—NIGHT
Marie Helene is burning Patrick’s masks in a bonfire. She is crying as she does it. Some of the children watch her from the fence. Some are wearing black cloth around their heads and arms as a sign or mourning.
Maurice pulls masks of the fathers of independence out of the flames. Marie Helene tries to keep him from saving them.
Ana is watching from a distance.
As Marie Helene fights him, Maurice wraps his arms around her and tries to control her. She sobs in his arms.
DISSOLVE TO WIDE VIEW OF DIFFERENT PARTS OF PORT-AU-PRINCE—NEXT DAY
A glorious sun rises over a troubled new day.
We hear the voice of a woman commenting to CNN after the coup.
WOMAN (VO)
One coup d’ etat .. another coup d’ etat. One General goes, another takes his place. And then? And then nothing! Too much blood has been spilled. This is too much for us.
FADE OUT
What you do not lose is the mythology — the mythology of the losing side. The way we feel about heroes, the ones that only ostensibly lost, says so much more about a culture than do all the dull habits and celebrations and customs of the victor vindicating power that is an abstraction to most — slaves to fortune, to corporations, to jobs.
THE JOB SLAVE
FERRÉZ
São Paulo, Brazil
Always, I wake at six.
Today I slept in till six-twenty, I’m not sure why.
I spit the toothpaste I’ve hastily scrubbed on with one finger into the sink.
Every day I do this: jeans, white t-shirt, the company logo on my left chest.
I go downstairs, only to see that I am at the end of a line-up many metres long.