Statue of Jean-Jacques Dessalines in Champs-de-Mars, Port-au-Prince
“Why do you seem so aloof”? asked my colleague.
I was deep in my thoughts. Here I was, sitting at an exclusive party with important political figures, and yet, my mind was transported elsewhere. With a view overlooking the Port-au-Prince skyline, I was in awe. My mind and imagination were at work and I was completely oblivious to everything else as I sat alone with a glass of wine.
As I looked over Port-au-Prince in all its majesty, I saw the ancestors. I thought about my trip to Gorée Island in Senegal. I pictured the slaves being embarked on huge ships. I saw the triangular trade. I pictured these same slave ships at the Port-au-Prince harbor and I saw the slaves being sold off. I saw the sugar cane plantations which made Haiti the wealthiest country in the Caribbean at the time. I saw these same sugar cane plantations and hard working slaves that are the foundations of the wealth of countries like Spain and France. I fast forwarded to the Haitian revolution. I saw slaves fighting for the one thing their heart desired the most. I pictured them chanting “Grenadiers à l’assaut! Sa ki mouri zafè a yo. nanpwen manman, nanpwen papa. Sa ki mouri zafè a yo.” I saw descendants of Africa with their machetes in hand, ready to die for their Ayiti Cherie and for the freedom of their offsprings.
View from Boutiliers, overlooking Port-au-Prince.
“You still look like you’re not here with us! What are you doing?” asked my colleague again. “Just thinking.” I replied. “What are you thinking about?” he continued. I sighed and responded as random words found their way out of my mouth and I tried to let them make sense: “I’m here. You know? Like, I’m here! It’s surreal! I don’t know if you understand but I’m here!” He gave me a look as if to say “you’re so weird”. I smiled and as he walked away, I regained my train of thought.
I saw the Bois Caïman ceremony. I smelled the freedom. I smelled the victory. It was because of the ancestors that I was here. It was because of their hard work and sacrifice that I could stand in this hotel, with a magnificent view of the city with a nice breeze brushing past my skin. It was because of the blood they versed that Haiti became the first Black nation in the Western Hemisphere. My thoughts gave me goosebumps. And at that exact moment, I realized that I was in love. And it was not any kind of love, but it was a love you could not find elsewhere. I was in love. And I was not in love with a person. I was love with Haiti. And I found myself thinking ” I’ll know I truly love someone when I find myself loving them as much as I love this country. I’ll know I really love them when I love them as much as I love Haiti.”
My colleague came back and laughed as he uttered these words : “Maybe we should move you out of your hotel and put you in this one since you love this view so much.” I nodded in agreement. And at that moment, the DJ played “Papa Dessalines” as if he had visualized my thoughts and knew how much I was appreciating the ancestors’ hard work.
Champs-de-Mars, Port-au-Prince
Haiti: A Different Perspective 