Autopsy Vivo

8/11/2019 Autopsy Vivo

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Autopsy in Vivo

Author(s): Nadine Magloire and Beth LellisSource: Callaloo, Vol. 15, No. 2, Haitian Literature and Culture, Part 1 (Spring, 1992), pp. 481-483Published by: The Johns Hopkins University PressStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/2931261.

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2/4

AUTOPSYIN

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

startmaking 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 fromyour

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

corruptedspeech

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

quarrelbetween 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 5.2

(1992)

481-483

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3/4

_________ _

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 afterall, 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

"literaryCreole,"

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" s

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



4/4

_____ _

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. Iprefer 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. Butwords 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


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