Trash Talk

Cynicism is cheap – you can buy it at any Monoprix store – it’s built into all poor-quality goods.

From The Comedians by Graham Greene

Today is the Day of the Dead. For a while I was thinking Voodoo and something spookier than Halloween, maybe even sinister, but it’s really just the Haitian version of All Souls’ Day. In some ways one might consider it a syncretic hand-me-down holiday from the Catholics adapted to the Haitian context with local beliefs that originally arrived via West African slaves. Like many things here it is a complex blending of traditional customs and cultural cast-offs which evolve in a new place. Displacement does this and Haiti’s history is irrevocably bound up in the forced exile of slavery and survival as an oppressed and dislocated population which forged a new identity and future out of necessity in a foreign land. African religious ideas took root and grafted on Christian iconography to help form Voodoo.

One of the themes of this day is prayers for the deceased - all souls and the faithful departed - who have gone from this world. Many societies have their variations of this, such as Obon in Japan, when people remember their dead and consecrate the day to releasing them to the afterlife. While some might believe that heaven awaited the deceased, there is a pervasive idea that assistance is required or else the dead might linger and cause problems. It seems in the Caribbean and Latin America an annual ceremony to assist the dead make that journey to paradise and avoid a purgatory which might be holding them is common. The idea of a holding place of punishment is decidedly Catholic, and one that Graham Greene, author of The Comedians set in Haiti, was familiar. It blends with the fetishes of Voodoo easily.  However, one might argue that Haiti has been for many a kind of purgatory or even hell on earth for centuries. Surely death could not be worse than enduring a few short decades as a slave to French plantation owners or a citoyen with politics contrary to Papa Doc who ruled this country with a firm if at times brutal hand via his thuggery, the Tonton Macoute. He gave academic legitimacy to Voodoo as a student and then wove it into the fabric of Haitian society through politics. These kinds of beliefs sometimes help remove oneself from the purely prosaic aspects of life and the fact that life hasn’t improved that much for many here. Perhaps the dead are the lucky ones, not the people who pray for them, worry for their daily bread and sufficiently good health to endure another difficult day.

Some of my colleagues have argued that there was more respect and decency under the Duvalier regime despite its regular horrors. At least you knew who was in charge. These days democracy on this side of Hispanola is laced with satire and is comedic in its insubstantiality. People vote for personalities with no meaningful way to effect change. Almost inevitably within months the citizenry takes to the streets to protest, blocking roads and burning tires, because all this is all they can do to make their democratic voice heard. No one expects the government to improve their lives. They are so poorly represented. Many Haitian politicians have postured for fame and self-seeking gain.  Just look at the pop star leaders of Haiti of recent times representing legitimacy and stereotypes. Michael Martelly (Kompa legend and ineffectual post-quake ex-president) and Wyclef Jean (ex-Fugees front man, 2010 presidential candidate and defrauder extraordinaire of millions of dollars promised to Haiti through his charity). This is the political landscape that decent, educated and hard-working Haitians bemoan and the majority are star-struck by before they realise that the political elite will line their pockets and leave things just as they were if not worse. And when someone half-decent gets to power no one wants to pay their taxes and accept the hardships that must be shared to make life better for all.

Sadly, in my darker moments, I cannot help but think of Haiti as a gaudy knock-off version of Western democracies that have set the precedent of corruption, pandering to populist demands and electioneering for profit. Given the influence of America in Haiti both socially and politically, this should really be no surprise. However, usefulness of self-determination has long seemed pretty self-evident, as has the ugly influence of interference.

On the roads you could be forgiven for thinking that Haiti is the dumping ground for the world’s second-hand goods. Old trucks with bent chasses lurch down the roads like zombies and worn out premium brand trainers are strutted around on dance floor in corrugated iron shacks with blaring music by faux-bling rap-star replicas. Haitians are worth more than this but accept less than they deserve in politics, policing and the produce needed to sustain them. We think our trash is good enough for the Haitians and local perceptions of the superiority of lifestyles and brands from the West are insidious. The goods dumped in Haiti are often the items we no longer have a use for and the emulation of the Western democratic ideal is actually a poor quality lie we’ve chosen to believe also. It’s the MacDonald’s effect – one of the most cynical offerings the world has ever seen. Unperishable, highly processed and marketed as healthy and nutritious when the truth is the opposite. And the appetite for this crap is massive. Those golden arches, everywhere in the West, are rapidly growing in poorer countries. They claim to improve the quality of life by association with an ideal that betrays you with every mouthful. Why do so few people speak up or act differently? Is it any wonder that countries like Haiti don’t see through the façade?

Oscar Wilde once wrote that “we are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars”. With the glittering stars of the Caribbean sky overhead and little prospect of replicating the flawed democracy and development of America and the West, wouldn’t it be refreshing for the Haitians to look to themselves and reject the ideas and offerings which for generations have stolen liberty and prosperity from them? Imagine it, humble yet honest, drawing on authentic Haitian culture which acknowledges slavery and its religious traditions looking within for inspiration, promising something achievable and home-grown that might capture the imagination of a nation and bring about the substantive change that so many long for. Unfortunately the world is not so straightforward or permissive enough to let them choose a radical alternative from the status quo, even when that condition is miserable and takes courage to change that very few have the stomach for, even me. I’m not sure I would choose it if the situation was reversed. So what do we turn to? Probably faith and hope in something beyond the current circumstances because we cannot change the world much even when we act like the change we want to see. I came back to Haiti hoping to do some small good. And I have pursued this with heart. The problem is that there is often no tangible measure for how this makes much of a difference.