The Future

Michael Appleton for The New York Times


This article was in the New York Times today about the state of the Haitian education system after the earthquake. What blows my mind is the challenge -- how do you take an ALREADY failing school system (and I don't mean failing by US standards; I mean failing) that barely enrolled 50% of school-age children in Haiti and rebuild its infrastructure in a country where every government facility has to be rebuilt. The challenge is mind-boggling.

This is the kind of article that I think Ti-Jean speaks to really well; the last image of the play when Ti-Jean and the Bolom walk off into the sunset together, the promise of a free Caribbean -- it is this hope that the Haitian people need in spite of the overwhelming adversity they face.

Health in Haiti

Michael Appleton for The New York Times

Hey all! It's been a while since I last posted.

If you haven't been following the news, here are some more articles about the state of post-earthquake Haiti.

The first article here deals with increasing pressures on the tent cities housing thousands of displaced and homeless Haitians to pack up and move off of the private property they are located on. There's also a beautiful slide show attached to the article.

The most pressing news from the region is the recent outbreak of Cholera throughout Haiti, which is likely to spread to the Dominican Republic. The best way to prevent the disease? Clean water and soap.

"Blue Haiti"

Shannon Freshwater

A link to an article today in the New York Times.

Gaga for Rara

I've yet to post anything about a type of Haitian music called "Rara" music. It's mentioned in the full account on the missionary's blog that I cited below in the mapou tree post.

I came across this article today in the New York Times about a recent annual Haitian celebration in Brooklyn, and they mentioned a new documentary about a Rara band in New York.

"The Other Side of the Water" web Trailer from Jeremy Robins.

So cool, right?! If you go on the documentary's website you can find a lot of other clips from the movie, including this one which I think offers a lot of insight.

While we're setting the play in Haiti, the Haitian experience in the United States is of critical import to understand if we're going to attract members of the local Haitian community to the production. I hope we can use this documentary as a way to delve deeper into the Caribbean-American experience.

Speaking of Faith

Hi all!

This is a really great resource: the Speaking of Faith website. It's a production by American Public Radio. This particular site gives a fantastic overview of Vodou for both the initiated and the layman Enjoy!

"Cric?" "Crac!"

Haitian-Canadian storyteller Joujou Tourenne

"The moon always there even fighting the rain
Creek-crack it is cold, but the moon always there
And Ti-Jean in the moon just like the story . . .
Before you fly home, listen,
The Cricket cracking a story
A story about the moon."

- The Cricket, Ti-Jean and His Brothers

Storytelling is a vital and vibrant part of the Haitian/Pan-Caribbean culture. Storytellers have the ability to spread tradition, values, and morality throughout communities and villages at little-to-no cost. I've been reading a lot of Haitian folktales, and they're mostly all recorded with an audience participation aspect built into them.

Just as Western fairy tales usually start with "once upon a time," Caribbean folk tales begin with an invocation, too. I've seen "Voila!" used in some Haitian stories, but most prevalent is "Cric?" "Crac!"

Haitian storyteller Georges Nesly

When a story teller asks their audience "Cric?" he or she asks them if they're ready to hear a story. The audience responds "Crac!" to say "Yes! We want to help you tell it!" It's no coincidence the Frog's first lines of the play are "Greek-Croak!"

A Haitian storyteller is more than a teller of tales -- they are performance artists using their voices, movements, props, and songs to make their stories come to life. The Haitian storyteller uses and plays with their audience just as the audience plays with the storyteller so that both may be spiritually immersed in the world being crafted in front of them.

Director's Desk: Wrestling with the Devil

Ti-Jean director Megan Sandberg-Zakian

The following was sent as an email from Director Megan Sandberg-Zakian (Harriet Jacobs) to the creative team about who will be playing the role of the Devil in URT/BPT's production of Ti-Jean and His Brothers.

"After our second round of auditions and some conversations with collaborators Kera and Sara, I’m still really drawn to the idea of casting the show as I originally described, with the role of the Devil split among the ensemble. (played by everyone except Ti Jean and Bolom) In lieu of a conversation with all of us in the room, I thought I would try and outline some of my current thinking on this in writing.
The genesis of the idea came from my genuine question about doing the play now, “who or what is the Devil in 2010?” I think a big part of this casting for me is an honest attempt to figure this out. For me, sometimes the best way of approaching a process is to centralize the big questions rather than marginalizing them. This is a big question that we will probably never all agree on an answer to, but this casting places The Question squarely at the center of the production. The use of the chorus, and the very epic feeling of the text, instantly brings to mind a Brechtian approach. This casting is a classic example of Brecht’s alienation effect – by having multiple bodies stand in for the Devil, we (the audience) can’t get caught up in the idea of the Devil as an evil villain that we can boo and hiss. We are forced to think about the big questions the play raises rather than mindlessly allowing ourselves to slip into our default mode of listening to a story, “I hope the good guy wins in the end and the bad guy loses.”

"Carnaval 2006" by Gerard Fortune

The text strongly supports the idea that the Devil can be found anywhere:

“But be careful of the hidden nets of the devil,
Beware of a wise man called Father of the Forest
The Devil can hide in several features,
A woman, a while gentleman, even a bishop.”

And suggests that even Jesus met his death at the hands of the Devil, hidden in the hands of men:

“Have mercy on my son,
Protect him from fear,
Protect him from despair,
And if he must die,
Let him die as a man,
Even as your Own Son
Fought the Devil and died.”

The setting for our production, too, resonates with this idea. A central element of Haitian voudou is the possession of serviteurs (worshippers) by the lwa (spirits). From what I’ve read, it seems that in voudou there is not a dichotomy of God (good) and Devil (evil) – there is a much more complex view of the behavior and motivation both of humans and of divine beings. There are choices and consequences, and humans and spirits are constantly in conversation about why they did certain things and what they should do next. (I think that this complexity is in strong evidence in Walcott’s portrait of the Devil; to my mind the proposed casting enhances an already compelling element of the character). There is also a strong Carnival tradition throughout the Caribbean which is a tradition of subversion, of
critique - when people take to the streets and dress up, they have permission to criticize, to parody, to ridicule, those who hold power.

Although we are certainly not going to re-enact a possession ritual, and the play isn’t a Carnival, I find some resonance in these traditions which support the idea of an ensemble of actors stepping into The Big Question and wrestling with it collectively .

Finally, I like the idea of implicating all of us (and I really mean all of us, not all of them) with this casting. Yes, oppression is one of the forces which keeps us from being able to live freely and prosperously. But as the text makes clear, there are other forces too – our own pride or ignorance, our own greed, our lack of imagination, our insensitivity. In order to triumph over the forces of oppression and injustice which threaten to suffocate us, it is not necessary to “be good” or to “play fair” (as Mi Jean and Gros Jean both try to do with the Devil, but not with the woodland creatures). Sometimes we must access the trickster in us, turn things on their head, piss some people off – all of this without losing sight of what we believe and what we love. I feel like this casting complicates and deepens the questions that Walcott’s text is asking us to consider, and does it in a way that is consistent with the formal elements – epic, classic, folkloric – of his writing.

I understand the concern that the casting could be interpreted as having the viewpoint “Haitians have brought evil upon themselves.” The play has to be treated with great sensitivity in any context, and especially being set in Haiti in light of our country’s problematic relationship to that nation. I’m very much aware of and sensitive to the material we’re dealing with here. No matter what the casting, it’s important to be mindful. For me, the proposed casting does not amplify those concerns in producing this play, nor does it allay them. It is very important to me to honor Walcott’s substantial and beautiful work. I feel like this approach, so far, is deeply respectful to the intention and the content of the text. I'm also happy to continue to discuss it and consider other options as we go forward.

Photography by Leah Gordon, available in her book Kanaval: Vodou, Politics and Revolution on the Streets of Haiti

That said… The one thing I am NOT sure of, is how the heck to make this idea work, logistically, in performance! I have a lot of ideas, and have had great conversations with Kera and Sara (can’t wait for a costume designer!!) and my brain is turning rapidly, but ultimately I need to get into the room with the actors to figure it out. Here, I think I agree with playwright Charles Mee when he defines the director as “the person who can maintain the anxiety of possibility and uncertainty the longest.” This is what rehearsal is for, and I’m not going to find an answer to this alone in my kitchen with the script, or writing an email. I’m pretty sure that this is a good idea. But if it’s not, and if it doesn’t work, I’m willing to let it go at any time. Anne Bogart says, “hold on tightly, let go lightly.” This kind of big risk taking is one of the reasons that I love working in the theater. Sooo... we'll see. And we'll keep talking!

I think I’ve written enough. Thanks for listening and I’d love to hear
your thoughts. Onwards!

Yours,
Megan

The Divinity of Trees

A Vodou ceremony under a Mapou tree.

It's a classic scenario: a person lives at the edge of a forest, a person needs go into the forest to do something, he or she faces adversity in the forest, and hopefully, he or she will get out safe and sound.

The same is more or less true for the story of Ti-Jean with one huge exception: in Haiti, no forest is just a forest, and no tree is just a tree. First and foremost, a tree symbolizes the vertical line. The concept of the crossroads is of critical import in Vodou; they represent the intersection of the physical (horizontal) world and the spiritual (vertical) world, guarded by Legba, the loa of the crossroads, who can open the gate between the worlds. Hence, trees are natural manifestations of the spiritual world in the physical world. Where the two worlds meet at the base of the tree, represents this intersection and is key to the Vodou ceremony. The poteau-mitan (center post) of the peristyle (ritual enclosure) is indicative of this crossroads and is used when sacred trees are unavailable -- as such, all offerings and prayers are directed toward the intersection of the post and the ground.

Vodouisants in the peristyle during a ceremony. The poteau-mitan is seen on the right, surrounded by drums.

But while trees in general are receptors of spirituality, certain trees stand out in this respect, like the Mapou tree. Mapou trees (also known as kapok and matipo trees) are believed to be nexuses of spiritual energy and hosts to nefarious spirits. The tree is physically intimidating, ranging in height from 45-100 feet tall, with large buttressed above-ground roots. The trees are found all over the Caribbean, Central and South America, and are considered sacred by myriad cultures, including the Maya and the now-extinct Taino people of pre-Columbian Hispaniola.

I came across this travel blog for an American pair of Christian missionaries canvassing Haiti after the January 12 earthquake. They related the following story (keep in mind they're probably on the same page as Pat Robertson in the video below):

"There is a Mapou tree north of here and in 2004, the 200th anniversary of the curse, some pastors felt impressed to go to that tree and pray God's deliverance on it and from the curse. They prayed and heard spirits screaming as they left the tree. When the voodoo priests went to do their thing at the tree, it no longer worked (whatever 'it' was) and they complained to the officials. Political people are voodoo followers or at least partial to it so they arrested the pastors. The pastors were told to put the spirits back in the tree. God gave them wisdom and they told the officials that because they were their authorities and scripture says to obey our authorities, they would do as they said. However, they had one problem, they told them. 'Our scriptures only give direction on how to remove spirits; not how to put them back in.' And so, they were released. That tree fell over and died."

A Mapou tree.

Mapou were heavily attacked because of the rejete, the systematic and highly successful attempt by the Catholic Church to suppress the Vodou religion in Haiti (largely spurred on by the American occupation of the country from 1915-1934). However, the trees are still respected, revered and worshiped throughout the country. Lots of folklore has sprung up about the trees, and how they can be homes to all sorts of supernatural forces, from loup garou to bacalou, little man-eating sorcerers who party and grind the bones of their prey at night (which is why any Haitian will tell you, don't go near a Mapou tree after dark!) In a lot of the tales, the trunk of the tree opens up and is hollow inside.

Mapou, however, are not the only sacred trees; the Banana trees have a special significance as they are identified with the Fig tree in the Bible (another intersection of Vodou and Judeo-Christianity). For the Haitian, it is the Banana tree that represents the tree of knowledge and the banana that is the forbidden fruit. Milo Rigaud explains the parallels between the loa and the banana tree in his book Secrets of Voodoo.

"As the centerpost [Poteau-mitan] is the Voodoo sun, and inasmuch as the solar life renews itself by its daily rising and setting, the banana tree never ceases to renew itself by its shoots. Its perpetual outgrowings symbolize eternal life. The banana tree is, moreover, like the gods, hermaphroditic as to its flowers" (Rigaud 98-100).

In our sheltered, secular Western society, trees can be easily overlooked as functional plants that are good for the environment and heighten aesthetics. If we look deeper into the mythology, folklore, and religious practice behind them, a completely different world can be revealed.

A banana tree.

Speak of the Devil

"Chez les Mackandas" by Jonny - from an online gallery by Goucher College

One of the most pressing questions we have in this production, if not the most pressing question of this production is, "Who is the devil in Haiti?"

It's been a question that's certainly stymied me through the majority of my research so far. What's so tricky about this question is shedding the preconceived Protestant-informed notions of good and evil so relentlessly hammered into the contemporary American mindset to see things from a Haitian point of view. Pat Robertson provides a great example of this:

(What Robertson is talking about is the Vodou ceremony led by Houngan Dutty Boukman, which is widely regarded to have sparked the Haitian Revolution)

Massive cultural generalizations and oversights aside, I began my search for the devil in Haiti in Vodou, looking for anything that resonated with the Devil in the context of Walcott's text.

Maya Deren's Divine Horsemen: The Living Gods of Haiti has proven to be an invaluable resource in this regard. In it, Deren illuminates the loa (spirit/Gods) of Vodou and reveals their attributes, likes and dislikes. The loa that jumped out at me was Ghede, the loa of Death and Lust.

"Life for Ghede [aka Baron Samedi, aka Brav Ghede] is not the exalted creation of primal ardor; it is a destiny -- the inevitable and eternal erotic in men. He is lord of that eroticism . . . therefore beyond good and evil and is beyond the elations and despairs of love. . . if anything he is amused by the eternal persistence of the erotic and by man's eternally persistent pretense that it is something else. . . He may invent variations on the theme of provocation, ranging from suggestive mischief to lascivious aggression. His greatest delight is to discover some one who pretends to piously heroic or refined immunity. He will confront such a one and expose him savagely, imposing upon him the most lascivious gestures and the most extreme obscenities. Thus he introduces men to their own devil, for whoever would consider sex as a sin creates and confronts, in Ghede, his own guilt" (Deren 102-3.)

Whoa! Sounds just like the Devil in Ti-Jean! But what is important to remember is that while Ghede/Baron Samedi represents what some may see as the worst in people, it still represents something about people. He's a loa to be feared and respected, but not one who is inherently evil.

"Baron Samedi" by Andre Pierre.

I've since shifted my focus from Ghede and the loa and rooted my search for the Devil in Haitian folklore. Two stories that stick out in particular to me are the variations on My Beauty/Juliana/Adelina compiled in Suzanne Comhaire-Syvain's Creole Tales from Haiti. In this tale reminiscent to Europeans of Cinderella, a mother agrees to give a "Thing" her hated step-daughter in exchange for help doing laundry, carrying plates, etc. Time after time, the little girl is able to outsmart the Thing until she has exhausted her resources and calls on her faraway brothers for help.

The other tale, The Valley Where the Sun Never Shines, involves a family's struggles against a loup garou, an evil sorcerer who can change their physical form. In this story, a couple has four boys, but after each one is born, the loup garou masquerading in their home as an old woman to help around the house drugs the mother and stashes each child away in the Mapou tree (more on those to come) to fatten them up. By the time the mother gives birth to the fourth child, she is already thrown out of her house by her husband for her negligence - for the loup garou takes on various disguises to tell the husband that the wife traded the baby for XYZ thing. Eventually the matter is solved and a happy ending put in place.

"Loup Garou au Table" - Keven Si

Needless to say, there's a lot there, but I keep feeling like I'm missing the heart of the matter. These are all spirits and creatures that are like the Devil, but who are just shy of achieving true Diablitude. Is there just no Devil in Haiti? Or is he too dark to keep in books?

Island Time

Island Time

This radio special has proved an indispensable resource on the cultural and humanitarian situation in Haiti both before and after the earthquake.

The Artists of Haiti's Grand Rue, After the Earthquake

Erzulie NEW RECORDING by Zili Misik

Erzulie NEW RECORDING by Zili Misik

Some music from Zili Misik, our music director Kera M. Washington's band.

AMNH Website

A great Vodoun overview from the American Museum of Natural History as a companion to an exhibit there ten years ago, with information about art, the loa, and vodoun rituals.

http://www.amnh.org/exhibitions/vodou/spirits8.html#spirit

Debris

An op-ed from the New York Times today about one of the prevailing issues in Haiti's reconstruction process:

See y'all next week!

PB

Carey, Get Out Your Cane

Debra and I parked the car in front of Carey Dardompre's home on a residential street in Arlington, Massachusetts. Carey somehow ended up on our shortlist as a Haitian art expert, so we scheduled a meeting to pick his brain. Confident that we should see his art books and worried that they might get damaged or lost should they leave his home, we trekked from CST to Arlington.

When we walked in the door Sara, our set designer was already knee-deep in art books. Carey towered over the three of us with waist-length dreadlocks and an infectious laugh. A red electric bass was perched against the wall, which save for the bass, was almost completely covered in bright, colorful paintings.

Carey chatted animatedly as the three of us perused the glossy bilingual pages filled with images of island art and photographs of Haitian rituals.

The books were filled with naive, bright images; Sirens, (mermaids) beasts acting as humans, sequined Voodoo banners, sketches, paintings, and found-object sculpture.

One of the things Carey stressed in our afternoon together was the presence of the Voodoo religion in Haiti -- how it's practiced, hidden, and celebrated.

Voodoo ceremonies often utilize a houmfo, or altar, adorned with objects, food, and images that will please a lwa, a spirit. Each family has a guardian lwa, who comes to them in times of need. We talked about whether the Mother in Ti Jean would have a Houmfo in her house -- could we use that in the play? How would the Mother use it?

Carey also talked about Voodoo's deep roots in symbolism -- what may seem like an arbitrary design choice in a painting is actually soaked in meaning and mythology. He pointed to little stars painted in the background of a more abstract painting.

"These stars just look like stars to most people, even most Haitians, that's what they are. But what they represent is a coming-together of the spiritual and the earthly; the visible and the invisible."

I'm trying to think of a really witty way to comment on the above quote and draw a connection to the nature of the play.

Try to imagine it.

Welcome to the Bois Blog!

Hello, and welcome to the official dramaturgy blog for the Underground Railway Theater and Boston Playwright's Theater production of Derek Walcott's Ti-Jean and His Brothers.

We'll be using this blog to post everything you need to know about Haiti, Derek Walcott, the production and whatever other surprises we run into.

Feel free to comment, discuss, and dive into the fantastical world of this classic play.

-Papa Bois