Autopsy in Vivo

Author(s): Nadine Magloire and Beth Lellis

Source: Callaloo, Vol. 15, No. 2, Haitian Literature and Culture, Part 1 (Spring, 1992), pp. 481-
483
Published by: The Johns Hopkins University Press
Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/2931261 .
Accessed: 27/03/2014 12:17
Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at .
http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp
.
JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of
content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms
of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact support@jstor.org.
.
The Johns Hopkins University Press is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to
Callaloo.
http://www.jstor.org
This content downloaded from 141.117.125.1 on Thu, 27 Mar 2014 12:17:43 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
AUTOPSY IN VIVO*
By Nadine Magloire
When you are from a small country, what sense is there in writing? Your work is
read by several hundred people at most, and then only when the book creates a scan-
dal, when people cry "pornography" because they find the word sex in the book and
start making accusations. We must forgive their stupidity.
No, really! Writing does not seem to make much sense when you are a citizen of
half an island populated by four million people of whom 90 percent are illiterate and
99 percent of the literate minority are jerks! Of course, there are other Francophone
countries. But they have their own citizens to look after. They are none of my concern.
I must be resolved to address my compatriots. Even if the audience is restricted and
mainly composed of stupid people. It was my destiny to be born on a small, unlucky
island. A piece of property nobody cares about. Especially its own inhabitants. Why?
Come on! It's just like that. Really, the natives in this corner of the world are not too
clever. If they were, they would know that in order for a piece of ground to be inhab-
itable, you have to get off your ass a bit, even if others derive some profit from your
work too. But, no! These fools wouldn't move a stone out of their own path if they
thought that it was their neighbor's obligation. Selfish to the point of stupidity, that's
how they are. And this disease seems to be incurable.
A Haitian writer should accept not only the fact that s/he has almost no reading
audience, but must also face a variety of other virtually unsolvable problems. First of
all, there is the problem of the language. The daily speech of even an educated Haitian
is Creole, or, often, a Creole-French mixture. To the point that his language winds up
being nothing more than an incomprehensible jargon to the French-speaking for-
eigner. All the more because, in our language, things are often incorrectly named.
Confusion rises not only in a conversation between a foreigner and a Haitian but also
between two Haitians, if one has a greater knowledge of French than the other. It
would be necessary to redefine almost every word for the Haitian people. But they
would never bother to correct their false notions.
What language should the writer adopt? The corrupted speech of the Haitian people
or the French of France? And what France? In Paris alone there are so many kinds of
speech! I am a partisan of international French, understandable by all French speakers,
even if many Haitian readers are ill equipped to interpret a text written in clear and
simple language. They feel more comfortable with their gibberish.
The absurd quarrel between the partisans of Creole and those of French is not going
*"Autopsie in vivo" is the introduction to Nadine Magloire's novel, Le Sexe Mythique C) 1975 Editions
du Verseau. The translation is published here by permission of the author.
Callaloo 15.2 (1992) 481-483
This content downloaded from 141.117.125.1 on Thu, 27 Mar 2014 12:17:43 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
_________ _ CALLALOO
to simplify matters. After all, why would we reject French with the pretext that it is
the language of the former colonizer? We have taken it from the enemy. It is our spoils
of war! And after all, why should the Haitian people be imprisoned in a speech which
opens up no horizons? "You are alienated," certain friends tell me as they preach
"Haitianity," a word in vogue. Alienated. They love to use this term in order to stick
a pejorative label onto those who do not fall into the snobbery of "national culture,"
of "literary Creole," of Vodou, etc. I do not want to be trapped within the bounds of
a national culture constituted essentially of an aberrant cult: Vodou. After all, what
really counts is that there are Haitian writers, Haitian musicians, Haitian artists. Let
them express themselves as they see fit, as they feel-without cheating. I declare that
all Francophone literature belongs to me. And I go so far as to lay claim to human
culture in its totality!
The promoters (in their little inside groups) of "Haitianity," of Creole as a literary
and official language, and of Vodou do not really care at all about the people and what
the people want. These promoters want to be part of an elite group, the intellectual
elite and to keep white civilization for themselves. The people should be satisfied with
their supposed culture. Thus the promoters of Creole literature draw the interest of
white intellectuals in search of cultural malaise like vulgar tourists. They are absurdly
flattered that the whites give importance to "their culture." Apparently, their culture
needs white approval in order to exist at all. They do not realize that this in itself is
alienation. I do not see why the Haitian writer or artist should furnish "exoticism" at
all costs in order to appeal to whites seeking escape, a delicious sensation of being
plunged into a different world. When they are tired of their consumer's society, they
wish to discover the picturesque and savage place where such curious primitive beings
live! For 14 years we have been stewing in white culture. Sometimes we even get to
the university level, to the doctorate. Yet, we are supposed to continue doing "naive"
painting, to describe Vodou ceremonies (even if we are theist), to sing "Ezuli-Freda,"
and to beat our drums-in short, to perform all the "monkeyshines" that are expected
of us. The whites come to our island as they go to the zoo.
Some of our "Creolizers" may be sincere. Let us concede that much! But they are
generally very handy at turning a profit from their ideas. Their ideas put them in the
limelight (they are always greedy for some derisory success). They begin to receive
invitations to festivals and cultural demonstrations abroad And they can make
speeches to their hearts' content at literary receptions. The people do not benefit from
this, not one bit. Because these champions of Creole literature write only for those
who, like themselves, have access to Western culture. "Haitianity" is the new stepping
stone. And all those who proclaim it, when you get down to it, distrust the Haitian
people. Above all, one must avoid opening windows on the world. Poverty, filth,
Vodou, drums, rum-that is good for them. As for Western culture, our mandarins
are reserving it for themselves. For decades now this poor people has been exploited
without enjoying an ounce of profit.
There is another even more crucial problem. Will someone who wants to write be
satisfied to tell inoffensive stories without taking the reality of Haiti into account? To
dare to tell about something rotten in this country, to expose the naked facts in their
brutal reality, even simply to call things by their names, those are risks that many
482
This content downloaded from 141.117.125.1 on Thu, 27 Mar 2014 12:17:43 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
_____ _ CALLALOO
people hesitate to take. Here, silence is the norm. Social reality is full of taboos. A
dangerous, explosive affair. One never tells the truth. Especially the obvious, glaring
truth. As far as sexual matters go, you can merely broach the topic .. ., if you are not
afraid of the malicious gossip of the self-proclaimed proper individuals, who no doubt
imagine that the best way to give themselves a good reputation is to taint that of
others. However, when you decide to ignore the venom of these people, there is still
the little game of the lamebrains who love to indulge in finding out "who's who." The
writer is afraid of offering family and friends up to these vultures, these super-idiots
who could never conceive of a Haitian novel as a literary work meant for their critical
opinion.
What I want to attempt is a delicate operation. An autopsy. "The examination and
dissection of a cadaver in order to determine the cause of death." But for me, the
dissection of a cadaver holds no interest. I prefer to wield the scalpel in vivo. No doubt
this will cause many complaints. Is it not logical, however, to perform an autopsy on
a living society in order to determine the cause of imminent death and, perhaps, to
avoid it? It seems urgent to me to track down the gangrene that is corroding this
country.
"If you give a name to the conduct of an individual, you reveal it to him: he sees
himself. And since you name it for all the others, at the same time, he knows that he
is seen at the very moment when he sees himself. A furtive gesture, forgotten when
it was done, suddenly comes to life for everyone to see...."
This was said by that great fellow, Sartre. That is why people who are not at all
bothered by their own behavior, or more specifically misbehavior, are violently
shocked when it is denounced in black and white. Too bad for all those people who
are afraid of words. Words have never frightened me. It is actions, rather, that scare
me. The very idea of certain actions repels me. But words were made to be used. And
when something exists, why should we not speak about it? In this country, there are
so many acts deserving to be stigmatized!
-Translated by Beth Lellis
483
This content downloaded from 141.117.125.1 on Thu, 27 Mar 2014 12:17:43 PM
All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions