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After the Olympics: Haiti’s Still Got Game

Take “Haiti” out of “Haitian,” and you’re left with “an”—the indefinite article that stands for nothing in particular. Perhaps this was why attempts to dehaitianize Team Haiti at the 2012 Olympics were unsuccessful. Linouse Desravine, Moise Joseph, Jeffrey Julmis, Samyr Laine, and Marlena Wesh stood for Haitian the flag; who could take that away from them? Gold, silver, and bronze medals would have been nice, but the athletes’ presence in London was a welcome reminder that Haiti’s still got game.

The competition may be over; the stages and all the tents (in London) may have been dismantled; the clock may have run out of time, but Haiti’s race for the gold is still going on. With massive amounts of dedication and the participation of every compatriot, including first, second, third, or fiftieth generation Haitian-N’importe Quoi, that new golden era is quite possible.

May each member of Team Haiti continue to excel! Wherever the stage may be erected, put on the day’s uniform and go play. Whatever your expertise, run with it–and run strong. No matter what your passport says, everybody knows you’re still the genuine article, l’article défini. Be encouraged. An entire country is cheering for you. And, yes, that flag looks fabulous, fabulous on you!

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New INNERview with Leyla McCalla

Leyla McCalla’s parents are from Haiti; she was born in Queens, New York. “I guess that makes me a first generation Haitian-American,” she says awkwardly. Perhaps she’d never given  much thought to the subject of her nationality. Leyla has other things on her mind. She and the Grammy Award-winning group Carolina Chocolate Drops were on their way to a gig when we talked. “This is so exciting!” Leyla gushed, like a kid on a rollercoaster. Check out the new INNERview with this gifted musician. (Below: Leyla performs Rose-Marie in Central Park 8/11/12. Video by J. McCalla. Enjoy!)

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Carnaval Des Fleurs: Port-au-Prince and Paradise Regained

Sometimes you have to stop and smell the roses, even if they’re artificial. For three days, a man on stilts towered over stick-on orchids, synthetic hibiscuses, plastic sunflowers, and a throng of revelers garlanded in polyester leis. A carnival of flowers—in the tropics—ought to be ablaze with, say, fresh cut flowers. But when that country suffers from acute deforestation, you have to make do with the faux kind. And if you happen to be a flower snob like someone else I know, Haiti’s soil is just begging for you to roll up your sleeves and plant a few good seeds.

Pictures of smiling officials surrounded by a bevy of carnival queens in kaleidoscopic gowns grace the news. Frowning critics want to know what there is to be so giddy about in a quake-ravaged country. They counter the flowery images with grim reminders that hundreds of thousands still live in tents, prompting the president to defend the carnival’s hefty price tag while clean water remains a distant dream. Perhaps the Carnaval des Fleurs was not about clean water. Or flowers.

This was the first celebration Port-au-Prince had seen since the massive earthquake nearly totaled the city back in 2010. Those photographs of dancers gliding merrily in front of the sagging National Palace can’t be real; are they? The abysmal poverty just beyond the ornamented float route is very much a reality. Perhaps the dollars that were spent on the festivities could have fed the hungry instead. Still, how much is too much to pay to see a people celebrate life for a few days?

In my country we have a saying: “Aprè bal, tanbou lou.” Indeed, drums are heavier when they’re being hauled back from the dance. The more elaborate and enjoyable the ball, the heavier the drums feel afterwards. But we have another saying: “Men anpil, chay pa lou.” Many hands working together make heavy drums feel light.

Haiti’s last Carnival of Flowers took place so long ago, few people had even heard of it. Perhaps Haiti—like an ancient tree that was cut down—has sprouted new roots and is pushing her way up from under mounds of dirt.

Perhaps all the seemingly unnecessary merry-making on roads soaked with the blood of quake victims in the not-so-distant past is an example of how life always triumphs. Perhaps Port-au-Prince is the birthplace of paradise regained.

 

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Beyond the One Drop Rule: Haiti at the 2012 Olympics ~ by Katia D. Ulysse

One very popular news article that’s been circulating about the Haitian Olympians contains a line that goes like this: “Four out of five of the Haitians at the Olympics have one thing in common: they’re not from Haiti.”

Question(s): If you look completely “European” but have one parent who is of “African descent,” what do they call you? If both of your parents are American but you were born elsewhere, what do they expect you to call yourself? What do they call you in the heat of an argument? 

How many are watching and cheering for Haiti’s team in London? Medal or no medal, we’re proud of them. Yes, we know that Linouse Desravine is the only who was born on the island. Perhaps we are impressed by more than her athletic prowess. Perhaps we’re just proud of people who choose to honor their ancestry in front of millions.

Here’s what triple jumper and Georgetown Law School grad, Samyr Laine, wrote in a recent article on the Web: “When I win a medal, the first thing I plan to do is find my parents and brothers to thank them for being there and being on this journey with me. Then I’m going to grab a Haitian flag from the crowd and find a television camera so that the world knows that it’s Haiti’s medal.”

In The Miami Herald, hurdler Jeff Julmis shares his reason for choosing Haiti: “I’ve been wanting to represent Haiti ever since I was a kid. I definitely feel a special connection with the people there. All you hear about is the turmoil and what a negative place it is. I just want to go to London and make Haiti proud.”

Pascale Delaunay, a sprinter, is disappointed about not making the team. This quote is from her blog: “I wanted to represent Haiti at the Olympic Games so that everyone could see Haitians are more than just poverty, I won’t be there but I have 4 great teammates Moise Joseph – 800m, Samyr Laine-Triple Jump, Jeff Julmis-110H and Marlena Wesh-200/400m) that I trust to represent our flag to the fullest.”

This is beyond demonyms and the One-Drop Rule. In an interview with the Associated Press, Marlena Wesh says: “I still feel Haitian even if I wasn’t born there.” 

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When my American husband and I bought groceries in Central Florida recently, I recognized the unnameable thing in our cashier’s eyes. Her name-tag did not have a backward-leaning apostrophe on the middle e in Michele, but I had to ask anyway: “Are you Haitian?”

“No,” Michele answered with a candid smile.

My husband chuckled. Hadn’t he told me—for years—that I was not an expert at guessing people’s nationalities simply by looking at them?

“No?” My question hung in the air.

“I’m not Haitian,” Michele went on. “But my father is.”

“Your father is. . .”

“Haitian.”

Now, I was the one smiling. Michele glanced at the line of customers behind me. I’d run out of time to ask more questions.

Michele, like my husband, was born in the United States. Her father is Haitian; she is not. She never mentioned mom or mom’s nationality; that did not matter. Perhaps Michele considers herself “Haitian-American.” Perhaps she calls herself simply “American.” The choice should be hers, even when she has to check the “ethnicity,” “nationality,” or “race” box on a legal document. My husband’s parents, grand-parents, and great-grand-parents were born in America’s Heart Land. So, I allow him to call himself American;-)

Now, the “foreign-born” athletes who carry the Haitian flag in London have Haitian parents. The athletes may not have certificates that list Haiti as their birthplace. They may not hold Haitian passports; they may not qualify to vote in our many elections; certainly they are forbidden to run for president, but they chose to represent the drops of Haitian blood in their veins. More power to them–literally.

Each one deserves a gold medal for standing, running, jumping, and kicking for our beloved country.

For all the children in Haiti who are so proud of you; for elderly Haitians who’d give anything to run just one more race, a gwo Thank YOU to Haiti’s Olympians!

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Pour le pays. Pour la patrie. Pour les petits enfants qui sont si fiers de vous. Pou tout grandmoun ki ta renmen kouri yon denyè kous. Merci to the 2012 Haitian Olympians in London. Kenbe la!