Summer Olympics 2024: 10 Of The Most Stylish Uniforms From The Paris Games
Paris has always been the fashion capital of the world, the birthplace of classic trends and designer powerhouses. This year, however, the City of Light is captivating fashion critics for a different reason—the 2024 Summer Olympic Games, taking place from July 26, 2024 to August 11, 2024. This Friday, the Opening Ceremony will once again become a global runway of cultures. From the intricate details that pay homage to cultural heritage and artisanship to the innovative materials that promise both comfort and sustainability, each country's Olympic uniform is an opportunity to put itself on the global fashion map.
Here are 10 countries with the opening ceremony Olympic uniforms that have best managed to balance style, traditional national symbols and colors, sportswear trends and high fashion.
Chinese Taipei
Following the success of his designs for the Tokyo 2020 Olympics, Justin Chou, founder of avant-garde streetwear brand JUST IN XX, is back in 2024 as the official outfitter for team Chinese Taipei, an official Olympic name for Taiwan. The tailored two-piece suits to be worn by the athletes during the Olympic opening ceremony blends sustainability with the crafts of local artisans.
Chou turned the artwork “Mountain Range of Taiwan” by Taiwanese artist Paul Chiang into a beautiful printed fabric for the suits, the blue waves representing the natural beauty of Taiwan’s landscape. Adorning the Olympic opening ceremony looks are lapel pins crafted by flower-weaving artisan Lin Pei-Ying, made up of the Taiwan’s national flowers, the plum and the canola blossoms, serving as a traditional token of good luck for the athletes. Meanwhile, the belt and shoe uppers were made by Artisan Yan Yu-Ying with banana fiber woven fabric, an ancient textile tradition used in Taiwan. Chou also worked with a typography designer Kokia Lin to create a print that through an optical illusion transforms the words “Chinese Taipei” into the words “Cheer On.”
Mongolia
According to the “world’s most ruthless fashion critic” —the social media—this year’s best dressed Olympic team is Mongolia. Label Michel & Amazonka, led by designers Michel Choigaalaa and Amazonka Choigaalaa, caused a stir online when they unveiled the opening ceremony looks on Instagram earlier this month, with fans flooding the comment section with words of praise. “Absolutely stunning. Team Mongolia gets the gold for most incredible uniforms,” wrote one user.
The viral uniforms pay homage to Mongolian culture, with silhouettes inspired by the traditional Mongolian deel, a calf-length tunic. The ivory ensemble features cuffed, billowing sleeves, a pleated skirt, and an embroidered vest, offset by pops of collar in the collar, cuffs and vest. Further nods to Mongolian national symbols can be found in the intricate gold stitching of the vest, showcasing the moon, the sun, and the Gua-Maral, a mythical deer from traditional folklore. According to Michel & Amazonka, each individual uniform took dozens of hours to make–which isn’t surprising given the intricate level of detail.
Haiti
Haiti’s vibrant uniforms were created by Haitian-Italian designer Stella Jean to celebrate Haiti's culture and artisanship while sending a message of hope and renewal in a time marked by the country's political instability.
Jean incorporated the work of local artist Philippe Dodard into the skirt and trousers of the uniform—a bold, colorful print from a painting called “Passage.” For the women, the skirt will be paired with a woven chambray shirt, reflecting the country’s traditional blue-cotton spinning techniques, as well as a belted, sleeveless blazer made from recycled materials. Meanwhile, the men will sport field jackets inspired by the traditional Haitian Guayabera shirt, bearing the Haitian Olympic Emblem.
“I believe that these athletes have already won the most important medal by their very own presence in Paris. The winning category: human sustainability,” said Jean.
Canada
Athleisure giant Lululemon are the masterminds behind Canada’s chic uniforms, blending style and functionality. The brand teamed up with 14 Olympic and Paralympic athletes to ensure the kits meet the needs of the athletes set to compete. And it’s clear designers have listened; every look has a functional purpose to enhance athletic performance. The four-way stretch fabric fosters freedom of movement, while customizable drawcords allow a perfect fit. New pocket shapes and placements provide accessible storage, while SenseKnit technology and sweat-wicking material provide thermal comfort.
That doesn’t mean the brand compromised on style. The red-and-white jacquard bomber jackets are emblazoned with traditional Canadian maple-leaf motifs, reminiscent of edgy street-style pieces you’d spot on a runway. The jackets can be paired with shorts or sweatpants in the same print.
Canada will once again shine at the Olympic opening ceremony as one of the best dressed teams.
USA
When you think of sports, fashion and Americana, only one name comes to mind: Ralph Lauren. This year marks the ninth time in a row that the brand is the official outfitter for Team USA.
The preppy looks are quintessentially American and a classic Ralph Lauren: navy blazers with red and white trimming, striped Oxford shirts, and light-wash denim jeans. And naturally, each blazer features the iconic Olympic logo. Made in the USA, but created with sustainability in mind, using recycled polyester and Oregon-grown Responsible Standard wool from Shaniko Wool Company. “Ralph Lauren has once again created designs that not only capture the essence of American style but also embody the spirit and pride of Team USA,” said Sarah Hirshland, U.S. Olympic & Paralympic Committee CEO.
Sierra Leone
Adidas in collaboration with the London-based fashion label Labrum produced the official Olympic team kit for Sierra Leone. The collection features elements that pay homage to country’s cultural heritage, including windbreakers adorned with a distinctive white and blue print inspired by cowrie shells. Used in commerce as currency before, there unique shells now are often worn as the symbol prestige across many African countries.
Labrum's founder, Foday Dumbuya, has recently received the esteemed Queen Elizabeth II Award for British Design, and with this collection, Labrum and Adidas have created a unified and vibrant visual identity for the Sierra Leone team, one that honors Dumbuya's roots and celebrates the beauty of Sierra Leone culture.
France
The host country of the Summer Olympic Games in Paris will be making a grand entrance, donning custom-tailored tuxedos designed by luxury brand Berluti. “Berluti has brought together the savoir-faire and experience of its artisans to ensure that the French athletes look their very best,” reads an official statement.
Both men and women will sport midnight-blue wool tuxedos with lapels in shades of blue and red, key colors of the French flag. Suit pockets and scarves were created from fabric scraps to prevent waste, while the white shirts were made from cotton-silk blend for luxury and comfort. The expert craftsmanship of each tuxedo underscores the elegance typically associated with French fashion.
Great Britain
British brand Ben Sherman is returning for the third consecutive year to dress Team Great Britain. The opening ceremony uniform consists of a white bomber jacket with navy sleeves and a floral design embroidered on the back. Made up of the rose, thistle, daffodil, and shamrock, the design represents the four nations that make up the United Kingdom, symbolizing their unity and national pride.
The jacket will be paired with a knitted polo featuring a geometric read-and-blue pattern, crafted from an organic cotton blend, as well as oxford trousers with a Union Flag waistband. With a contemporary yet timeless uniform design Team Great Britain will be a stellar team both on and off the Olympic ceremony stage.
The Netherlands
Slouchy, orange tracksuits might be an unexpected choice for the Olympic Opening Ceremony costumes, but Amsterdam-based brand The New Originals gave us a modern nod to the centuries-old Dutch royal color from House of Orange.
The opening ceremony uniform for the Dutch Breaking (break dance) Team is both relaxed and impeccably tailored, featuring white piping detailing and a stiff collar. The tracksuits also come in white and navy, featuring orange piping detailing, a small but powerful homage to the country’s flag. “Ever since we’ve started, our mission was to make ‘performance clothing for creatives,’” wrote the brand on Instagram. They also stated that each tracksuit is unique, slightly altered to fit the distinct styles of each break dancer.
Australia
Australia’s heritage is front and center in the opening ceremony uniforms designed by Sportscraft. Made up of a green blazer with gold buttons, plus green-and-gold ombre skirts for the women and khaki shorts for the men, the country’s national colors are on full display—representing Australia’s beaches, crops, and forests. As a sweet tribute to previous victors, the names of 301 Australian Olympic champions are featured in the lining of each blazer.
Sportscraft also incorporated Indigenous artwork into the looks. The scarf is printed with the work “Walking Together” by Olympic boxer Paul Fleming, while the pocket square features the work “Ngalmun Danalaig” by artist David Bosun.
Where To watch The Summer Olympic Games In Paris Online Or On TV:
Three cheers for fashion, as we prepare to watch the Opening Ceremony for the Summer Olympic Games in Paris this Friday, July 26, 2024. Let us know in the comments which country’s national Olympic uniform stood out the most for you.
- Peacock will livestream every event of the Paris 2024 Olympics, including the opening and closing ceremonies.
- NBC and Telemundo will broadcast sole of the most popular Olympic competitions from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. ET each day. With additional sports airing on the CNBC, USA Network, E!, and Golf Channel.
Pèpè, the disposable garms subculture in Haiti
In Haiti, fast fashion meets its end game with pèpè, an accidental style made from cast-off clothing from the west - but what does it reveal about our addiction to disposable garms?
“We Haitians, despite the misery, love beauty, love to get dressed up, to smell and look good,” says fashion designer David André. “So many people tend to believe that fashion doesn’t affect a society. They are so wrong. Human beings always seek change. They yearn for new tastes and new styles, and this desire is adequately fulfilled by fashion.”
André's comments reflect my own experiences travelling in Haiti over the last few years, researching a book about the country's music scene. I remember churchgoers in their Sunday best and streets full of schoolkids in pin-sharp navy uniforms, proud Mardi Gras Indians in headdresses hung with tinsel, and Vodou worshippers in paper-white dresses and head-scarves gleaming in the early morning light. In my sweat-stained t-shirts and jeans thick with road dust, I always felt like a terrible scruff. Once I even got heckled at a bus station: “Look at the state of you, mon chè. Your clothes are filthy!” Rad pa janm fè moun (clothes do not make a person), or so the Haitian proverb goes, but I guess they’re somewhere to start.
Day to day in Haiti, a lot of what people are wearing is pèpè – secondhand clothing, the majority of it from charity shops and collection centre in North America, which arrives at Haitian ports plastic-wrapped in giant bails. It's sold on street markets from the frenetic capital Port-au-Prince to the remote villages of Grand'Anse in the west. Machann (traders) sit fanning themselves under beach umbrellas sorting through mounds of coloured fabric, dried by the Caribbean sun.
Imports of pèpè began under the Kennedy administration in the 1960s (they're sometimes referred to as 'Kennedy clothes'). Since then, thousands of tonnes of unwanted clothing have found their way to Haiti. With the rise of fast fashion, the flow has increased exponentially, flooding the Haitian market. For many locals, pèpè is a godsend. In recent years the cost of living has spiralled. Civil unrest, some of it fallout from the assassination of President Jovenel Moïse in 2021, and an explosion in gang violence have made life even more precarious. “I wear a lot of pèpè,” says Gilles, a musician from the town of Léogâne. “We all do, because it's a lot less expensive than buying new things.” Pèpè also gives Haitians access to brands they’ve heard about online, Gilles says, reeling off a list of labels he looks out for: “Nike, Adidas, Reebok, Lacoste. People here love it.”
But pèpè is both a blessing and a curse. As photographer Paolo Woods observed in his Pèpè series, it can exemplify many of the cruellest and most condescending aspects of the global fashion industry. Bundled in with the good-quality garments you also find the dregs – “the worst t-shirts, those that would barely be sold in the cheap gift shops of Times Square, those with the dumbest slogans”, writes Woods on his website – which end up being worn by Haitians who are often unaware of their meaning. Sometimes this can be surreal and vaguely humorous, like the time I passed an elderly woman in the mountains near Seguin wearing a t-shirt that read, “It’s not you, it's your eyebrows”. Mostly, though, it feels like an affront to the wearer's dignity, particularly when the slogan is lewd or bitterly ironic (“I Pee In Pools” and “Winning A Million Dollars Won’t Change Me” are just two examples in Woods' series). In this sense, pèpè is just another way in which the neocolonialist global economy kicks people when they’re down – particularly when you consider that some of these t-shirts will originally have been produced in Haitian sweatshops.
“So many people tend to believe that fashion doesn’t affect a society. They are so wrong. Human beings always seek change. They yearn for new tastes and new styles, and this desire is adequately fulfilled by fashion.” – David André, Haitian fashion designer
Just as imports of cheap rice and other staple foods have damaged Haitian agriculture, pèpè has had a disastrous effect on the country’s fashion industry, putting hundreds of tailors out of business. There has been talk of banning pèpè imports in the past, but powerful figures in Haitian society make big money out of it, so legislation seems unlikely.
André is a vocal critic of pèpè. He remembers how different things were when he was growing up in the 80s. “My dad used to take my brother and me to the tailor’s workshop in Port-au-Prince to have our school uniforms made, suits for special occasions, formal Sunday attire to go to church, and I remember his atelier used to be full of work. Back in the day each family in Haiti had their seamstress and tailor to create the latest fashion. We used to have lots of tailors, seamstresses, shoemakers and embroiderers who worked for export, factories that made shoes for local and international brands, fancy boutiques that sold clothes made in Haiti...” Now, all that has changed. “It's complicated to have a fashion industry in Haiti where, for a big percentage of the population, it’s a daily struggle to eat, or find water to drink,” says André. “[With] political instability, the fact that we have stopped producing locally, and the cost of living [which] has increased so much so many people have no choice but to turn to pèpè.”
With his own work, André is fighting back. In spite of the challenges, he produces all of his fashion lines in Haiti, employing local workers. He has a deep love for Kreyòl tradition: the puffed sleeves and skirts decorated with lace, the famous headscarf (the maré tèt), an indigo fabric known as karabela blue and chambray cotton, used to make costumes for dances and Vodou ceremonies. “A few years ago I created some pieces in karabela called Choucoune, that paid tribute to the elegance and beauty of the Haitian woman,” says André. “When I create costumes for a Haitian folkloric dance performance, inevitably I have to go back to the source, the roots, in order to be inspired and let the magic of creativity shine.”
“With political instability, the fact that we have stopped producing locally, and the cost of living which has increased so much so many people have no choice but to turn to pèpè.” – David André
That same magic might be the key to rethinking pèpè. One of the many inspiring things about Haiti is the culture of upcycling. You only need to look at the tricked-out tap taps (trucks) and hand-me-down American school buses rattling through the streets of Port-au-Prince to see what I mean. Some of them are like trundling art exhibits, with peacock-fans of decorative wing mirrors, luggage racks shaped like aeroplanes and custom paint jobs jostling with saints and celebrities. You have collectives like the artisans of Noailles, who turn discarded oil drums into decorative metalwork, and the sculptors of Atis Rezistans, who make art from splintered wood, rusting car parts and even a few bones.
“The best thing for me is the creativity inside recycling,” says André Eugène, a sculptor and founding member of Atis Rezistans. “You can find something good in the street, someone puts something in the garbage, and you can use it to create whatever you want, whatever’s in your mind.” The same goes forclothing. David André has noticed a trend for skinny jeans among fashion-conscious young Haitians who buy baggy pèpè jeans and modify them – a reminder that clothes can be a source of escapism, fun, self-care and self-respect.
La Baze featured in Leah Gordon's series about the surviving tailors of Port-au-Prince (there's a beautiful portrait of him sitting at his turn-of-the-century Singer sewing machine). He also worked with Gordon on her project exploring caste in Haiti, making detailed historical costumes for her models, including richly embroidered robes and a Phrygian cap worn by Eugène. Like most Haitian tailors, he finds the majority of his work making school uniforms, one of the few garments still produced locally. But he continues to reimagine pèpè, creating artistic pieces to sell overseas when he can. He enjoys the process of transformation – of turning something old into something new.
“It’s hard to be an artist in a developing country,” says La Baze over the phone. “There are lots of difficulties. Nowadays people don’t appreciate artistic clothing, and even if they do they can’t afford it. But it's an artform I love. Since the day we were put on the Earth we’ve made clothes – from the leaves of trees, from animal skins. It’s the earliest craft that we have.”
In a world in which vast quantities of clothing end up in landfill, pèpè presents an opportunity. Recycling fabric from pèpè or transforming it into high-value garments for the international market could be a boon to the Haitian economy, but to unlock its potential, the country needs change.
La Baze looks back fondly on the Made in Haiti project. “We worked a lot! But it didn’t last,” he says. “In Haiti, projects like that are handicapped. The truth is, things aren’t working here. Tourists can’t come. There's no work, no money. Art is sleeping.” He hopes there will be more collaborations in the future. “That’s the thing about fashion: you can’t do it alone.”
For The D.C. Region’s Haitian Community, Soup Joumou Is More Than A Meal
For many Haitians, soup joumou is more than just a food dish, it’s a symbol and embodiment of freedom from enslavement.
Typically, it can be prepared with onions, peppers, celery, herbs, and lots of other ingredients, depending on who’s making it. But it’s centered on winter squash – a crop that Africans were forced to grow during the rule of French colonialism.
Back then, they not only had to work the land but also prepare soup joumou, which they were prohibited from eating, for their French oppressors.
“They could lose their life if they were caught eating those types of food,” says chef Roberto Massillon, who was born in Haiti and now owns Port-au-Prince Haitian Cuisine in Silver Spring, Md.
On Jan. 1, 1804, Haiti declared its independence from French colonialism following a successful uprising that was led by former slaves, including Toussaint Louverture. As a result, Haitians were able to eat soup joumou and celebrate their freedom. Today, many Haitians around the world and in the D.C. region eat the soup every year to honor their ancestors and culture.
“Every time we are celebrating our independence, we have to have this soup. It’s really something very – it’s holy for us,” says Massillon.
On Wednesday, dozens of people gathered as a community at Port-au-Prince restaurant to not just commemorate their history but to fundraise for Hope for Haiti, a nonprofit based in Florida that has a presence in the D.C. region. It partnered with Chef Massillon to prepare more than 100 bowls of soup joumou – the funds from their sale would be used to support health care, education, and business grants in southern Haiti.
Maritza Dietrich, an events manager for Hope for Haiti, says she wanted the event to create a space for the local Haitian community to come together and also to welcome people of different cultures – especially, those who’ve never had soup joumou before.
Chef Roberto Massillon, who is also a U.S. Army veteran and a linguist in the U.S. State Department, says he feels like a kind of "ambassador" who gets to represent his culture and cuisine within the D.C. region.Héctor Alejandro Arzate / DCist/WAMU
Marcel Pean, left, who describes himself as first generation Haitian-American, sits next to Roddy Denor, right, who was born and raised in Haiti.Héctor Alejandro Arzate / DCist/WAMU
According to Chef Roberto Massillon, Port-au-Prince Haitian Cuisine in Silver Spring, Md., is one of the few Haitian restaurants in the region and offers soup joumou on most Sundays.Héctor Alejandro Arzate / DCist/WAMU
“That’s such a great way to connect with the people in the DMV community,” says Dietrich, who was born in Haiti and lives in Silver Spring. “It’s very important for us Haitians to find our community because we draw strength from togetherness and being united.”
Like Massillon, Dietrich says she feels honored to be able to eat and share the hard-won Haitian dish with others. “What was once forbidden is now ours because we’ve worked hard for it. And so in drinking soup joumou or eating soup joumou, we’re reminded of the sacrifices that brave men and women made for us so we could be who we are now.”
According to Dietrich, the soup is truly meant to be shared with others. She recalls that when she was growing up, it was tradition to prepare it at home and then go from neighbor to neighbor to try their version.
“It’s that sense of community that we’re finding here,” says Dietrich. “And it’s like a pillar.”
Among those who stopped by the restaurant was Dietrich’s neighbor, David Blay. He says he wanted to come to support the fundraiser and the community, and it was also his first time having soup joumou.
“You know what? It tastes very good,” says Blay, who was born in the Ivory Coast. “Like a hint of ginger with some carrots. Very different I would say, but good.”
Silver Spring and the surrounding area are home to a diverse array of businesses representing African and Caribbean cultures – including Port-au-Prince Haitian Cuisine and nearby Ethiopian restaurants and cafes. For Blay, that calls for celebrating twofold.
“It shows to me how much of a community downtown Silver Spring is. You meet people from all different countries, all over Africa, the diaspora. And it’s a beautiful thing to see,” says Blay.
Loide Jorge, who is married to Massillon, helps serve soup joumou to customers.Héctor Alejandro Arzate / DCist/WAMU
“It's very important for us Haitians to find our community because we draw strength from togetherness and being united," says Maritza Dietrich, an events manager for Hope For Haiti.Héctor Alejandro Arzate / DCist/WAMU
“It shows to me how much of a community downtown Silver Spring is. You meet people from all different countries, all over Africa, the diaspora. And it's a beautiful thing to see,” says David Blay, who was born on the Ivory Coast.Héctor Alejandro Arzate / DCist/WAMU
Marcel Pean, who describes himself as first generation Haitian-American, says he grew up speaking Creole and eating his grandma’s soup joumou back in Memphis, Tenn. But it wasn’t until he got older that he began to better understand the history and politics of Haiti.
He says he’s glad he stopped by for more than just a familiar bite.
“That’s really inspiring for me to see how many people are actually connected and involved in the Haitian community,” says Pean, who lives in D.C. “It’s not just Haitians that are here. There are people from all over the place.”
Chef Massillon, who is also a U.S. Army veteran and a linguist in the U.S. State Department, says he feels like a kind of “ambassador” who gets to represent his culture and cuisine within the D.C. region. For him, that’s especially important because, he says, Haiti is oftentimes overlooked and reduced to a single image.
“It’s not always like the poor country. The poorest country in the Western Hemisphere. Because if you look at Haiti, it’s a rich country. It is rich in culture. It is rich in history. There’s so much people can learn about Haiti.”
Haitians Celebrate Annual Festival Of The Dead
Haitians today marked Fèt Gede, the Festival of the Dead, at the National Cemetery in Port-au-Prince.
Fèt Gede is an annual tradition when practitioners of voodoo parade and believe they are possessed by the spirits of the dead. Fête Gede which is also Festival of the Ancestors, is one of the most important celebrations in the Voodoo religious calendar. It is a time when Vodouisants celebrate the ancestral dead which is equivalent to the Mexican Day of the Dead and Halloween, all in one.
People dress up, take to the streets, dance their communion with the ancestors, and walk in processions to the graveyards where they feed their ancestral dead with the gifts of their own table. In this way, spirits are honored, and their protection is gained for the coming year. The festival shares calendar space and ideology with the Roman Catholic Day of the Dead, or All Souls Day but Fet Gede can be more accurately said to derive from African traditions preserved largely unchanged through the centuries.
Vodouists come in a spiritual pilgrimage to the cemetery to pay their respect to the dead, but first, permission of passage has to be obtained. The grave of the Papa Gede, the first man who ever died. Papa Gede is a psychopomp who waits at the crossroads to take departed souls into the afterlife, although he does not take a life before its time.
Ancestral services are held at this ‘crossroad’, considered to be the bridge between life and death. Kwa Baron is the Lwa guardian of the cemetery and head of the Gedes. Believers converge on the Haitian capital’s main cemetery to honor the Gede and the father of them all, Baron Samedi. They lay out gifts such as homemade beeswax candles, flowers, food and, to warm the Gede’s bones, bottles of rum stuffed with chilli peppers.
The festival comes amid gang warfare and police killings in Haiti that has left a journalist and an opposition party leader dead in recent days.
Haiti’s National Police says it’s been ordered to launch an investigation into the death of journalist Romelson Vilsaint, who witnesses say was struck in the head by a police tear gas canister.
The Association of Haitian Journalists also accused police of beating up several journalists and confiscating their equipment and other belongings, condemning what it called “anti-democratic acts of repression.”
“The safety of media and free movement of journalists are essential for the full and complete enjoyment of freedom of the press, freedom of thought, freedom of expression and the right to information that make up democracy,” it said.
Haiti has been grappling with myriad crises that have escalated across the nation over the last month. Widespread gasoline and diesel shortages have emerged after armed gangs blocked the nation’s main fuel terminal, and these gangs have also severed access to clean water, food and other essentials as Haiti also deals with a deadly cholera outbreak.
The “triple threat” of cholera, malnutrition, and violence, which affects more than a million children in Haiti, has prompted the UN Committee on the Rights of Children to call on the international community to take “immediate action.” Since the start of the academic year in Haiti on October 3rd of last year, the committee claims that the increase in insecurity in the Caribbean nation has prevented the majority of children from attending school.
According to reports, the nation is currently dealing with a cholera outbreak that threatens “the health, well-being, and lives of 1.2 million children living in the affected areas,” despite the fact that there had not been one for the previous three years. In terms of hunger, UNICEF estimates that nearly 100,000 Haitian children under the age of five are severely acutely malnourished. This issue has recently gotten worse as a result of the country’s unrest and economic issues. It has also urged the Haitian government to uphold its responsibilities under the Convention on the Rights of the Child, which include preventing children from being exposed to pornography, human trafficking, or any other form of involvement in armed conflict.
“Madan Sara” Tells the Story of Haitian Women Both Ordinary and Extraordinary
Madan Sara is a film about the power of Black women in a global economy and their contributions that too often go unacknowledged.
The new film Madan Sara begins and ends with writing by acclaimed writer and MacArthur “genius” Edwidge Danticat. Reading an excerpt from her first novel, Breath, Eyes, Memory translated into Kreyòl, Danticat recites in her trademark measured and melodious voice:
“There is a place where women live near trees that, blowing in the wind, sound like music … These women, they are fluttering lanterns on the hills, the fireflies in the night … There is always a place where women, like cardinal birds return to look at their own faces in stagnant bodies of water … Where women return to their children as butterflies … My mother was as brave as stars at dawn.”
Like the passage that introduces it, the documentary Madan Sara focuses on the lives of Haitian women who are simultaneously ordinary and extraordinary.
“To talk about Madan Sara is to talk about Haitian women,” according to the filmmaker Etant Dupain. As the film makes clear, it is also to talk about pressing issues like structural violence, government failures and resistance to neoliberalism that resonate throughout the Global South.
When I asked him about his vision, Dupain said he saw Madan Sara as a “different way to introduce people to Haiti.” He accomplished just that in a series of bright, stunning, visually captivating images that convey an atmosphere of abundance.
The ubiquitous poverty trope regularly used to describe Haiti is notably absent from the narrative. Instead, copious amounts of produce—piles of mangoes, loads of cabbage, bunches of bright orange carrots—are present in almost every shot, disabusing the viewer of the idea that Haiti is only a place of lack. The vibrant atmosphere of the marketplace infuses the film with energy as the beauty and fecundity of the land take center stage. Early in the film, a mouth-watering variety of produce appears, as if Dupain is inviting us to sit at an exquisite Haitian table of fruits and vegetables.
Indeed, Madan Sara is a story of abundance. The documentary focuses on two “madan sara”—business women who purchase, distribute and sell food and other essential items in Haitian markets. As the Haitian economist Camille Charlmers explains, “A madan sara is a person who specializes in commerce; they are pillars of the Haitian economy.” These women have mastered their profession, understand their worth in the global economy, and take pride in their craft.
“If you aren’t smart, you cannot be a madan sara,” Clotilde Achille explains.
Madan Sara explodes many of the binaries that the media has used to characterize Haiti: urban versus rural, rich versus poor, lack versus abundance. Seemingly simple in its focus, the documentary takes on a number of broader global issues: the history of Haitian agriculture, government corruption and neglect, resistance to a capitalist system that denies the collective.
When I asked Dupain how he managed to cover such an incredible range of topics, he explained, “It is impossible to talk about Madan Sara without understanding [this broader context because] their work is a resistance movement against neo-liberal policies.”
At the film’s premier in Port-au-Prince last month, the two main subjects, Clotilde Achille and Monique Metellus, appeared alongside filmmaker Dupain and shared their perspectives about the documentary. They were proud of the film and insistent on the need for more recognition and protection for women like them in Haiti and throughout the Global South.
One of the greatest contributions of Madan Sara is Dupain’s ability to center the women’s voices, perspectives and even policy recommendations to imagine a future in which the madan sara is no longer on the margins. After all, what sense does it make to marginalize those who are so central to the economy and the function if of the small island nation? To use the words of one scholar interviewed in the film, the madan sara keep the country running; there would be no Haiti without them.
One of the most striking contributions of the film is the critique of capitalism and U.S. influence over the Haitian economy. According to Chalmers, the Madan Sara system represents a socialist solidarity economy that is fundamentally anti-capitalist. There is an ethic of social justice that undergirds the entire documentary: As an example of the global machinations of gender, power and economics, the madan sararemind us of what the world is getting wrong—especially as it concerns Black women of the Global South.
Madan Sara raises salient points about women’s contribution to the global economy and enters into academic debates about the autonomy of rural women. As the Haitian feminist scholar and author Myriam Chancy has argued in Framing Silence: “Haitian women of the rural working class appear to have some power equity due to the fact that many are market women (handling booths at the market, money, trade) while their male counterparts work the fields.”
Perhaps this is why madan sara have also been ignored by the state and targeted with violence. About halfway through the documentary, the camera pans out to a wide shot showing plumes of smoke wafting from one of Port-au-Prince’s largest markets. The fire that tore through this market was far from an isolated case, in fact in 2018 five fires blazed through Haitian markets.
Crying out for help after seeing all of her commerce destroyed in a market fire, one madan sara shouts desperately, “We are asking for justice not peace!” To Dupain, the fires are a metaphor for the structural violence and injustice these women are subject to. It is also evidence of the government’s lack of compassion for the people.
Filmed over the last five years, Madan Sara, is also unabashed in its critique of Haitian president Jovenel Moïse and the political elite. At one point, footage of the PetroKaribe Mouvement protests contrasts what up until this moment had been a film dominated by the presence of women.
This feminist film is unequivocal in making the point that government neglect of the madan sara population results in their marginalization. Or, as one of the women featured puts it, “We aren’t safe in cars, homes, in the market”—emphasizing how the lack of security has deleterious effects that are exacerbated by the intersections of gender and class. Madan Sara makes clear that the government’s lack of support, investment and outright neglect is a form of structural violence that has resulted in widespread harm.
And yet, the film showcases the ingenuity, brilliance and steadfast nature of these women in a nuanced way. Extolling the perspicacity of madan sara, another expert opines: “They really know what they are doing. They need more support, sure, but they know what they are doing.”
So as much as Madan Sara puts Haitian agriculture and markets on display, it is ultimately a film about the power of Black women in a global economy and their contributions that too often go unacknowledged.
They represent hundreds of thousands of women engaged in daily practices that the state does not support, protect, or invest in. As Madame Monique explains to the viewers, Madan Sara se lekol li ye—The madan sara network is an entire school. It is an education about empowered women in the Global South who though they are overlooked by the government continue to press forward.
Towards the end of the film, Dominique Boyer, the CEO of Fonkoze, a non-profit organization that provides micro loans to Haitian women in commerce explains the connection of madan sara to all of Haitian culture. “Every Haitian has a madan sara story in their own family.”
Personally, this point struck home for me as I recalled the story of my paternal grandmother, who spent some of her life working as a madan sara. When I told my father—a physician living in Port-au-Prince—about the film, he shared childhood memories about accompanying his mother on some of her business trips. Like Etant Dupain, he understood the importance of madan sara’s contribution to his education, development and professional trajectory.
As Dupain expressed so eloquently, and with a touch of longing for home, “Madan Sara is ours. Madan Sara is Haiti.”
How to Watch Madan Sara
In honor of International Women’s Day, and in partnership with the University of Pennsylvania, the Madan Sara Project will be hosting a free public online screening of Madan Sara on March 8, 2021 at 6:00 pm EST. Spaces are limited, so reserve your spot today by following this linkto register for the event.
For more information on future film screenings and to support the efforts of the Madan Sara Project as they work to share the film across Haiti, please visit MadanSaraFilm.com.
Playlist: Haitian Rhythms And The Music Of New Orleans
'Kanaval,' a three-part audio documentary, explores Haiti's influence on NOLA
Much of what distinguishes New Orleans today from other American cities can be traced back to French and African influences from Haiti. The cultural ties go back more than 200 years, when 10,000 free and enslaved people left what was then the French colony of Saint Domingue during the country's revolution. NOLA's multi-cultural DNA is its calling card, and it's reflected in the food, architecture, art, and most notably, music. Kanaval: Haitian Rhythms & the Music of New Orleans is a new three-part documentary, hosted by Grammy-winning musician Leyla McCalla, that explores the history of Haiti, and its continuing impact on the music of New Orleans.
Kanaval celebrates the origins, history and influence of Haitian culture, and features interviews and music from Boukman Eksperyans, Paul Beaubrun, RAM, Lakou Mizik, Chico Boyer, Win Butler & Regine Chassagne of Arcade Fire, Bruce "Sunpie" Barnes, Ben Jaffe of the Preservation Hall Jazz Band, and others. Throughout the documentary, historical insights and interviews are provided by Ned Sublette, Duke University professor Laurent DuBois, Loyola University New Orleans professor Angel Adams Parham, award-winning author Edwidge Danticat, Linda Reno and Lori Martineau of the organization Haitianola, and Wesleyan professor Elizabeth McAlister.
"For people who know Haiti and New Orleans, the similarities are endless," says McCalla. "The deep connections between these places really comes alive in the music."
The documentary, premiering on NPR member stations this month, is part of a year-long project including live performances in Philadelphia and virtual events. One of these performances will be McCalla's current project, Breaking the Thermometer to Hide the Fever, that tells the legacy of Radio Haiti, the country's first privately owned Creole-speaking radio station, and the assassination of its owner through McCalla's own Haitian-American lens. The multi-disciplinary performance, featuring original compositions and arrangements of traditional Haitian songs, premiered in March 2020 at Duke University and will be presented in Philadelphia as part of the Kanaval project.
Kanaval: Haitian Rhythms & the Music of New Orleans is supported by The Pew Center for Arts & Heritage with additional funding from the Wyncote Foundation.
HAITI BABII | NEW ALBUM ‘TRAP ART’ & COMPETITION WITH HIMSELF
Haiti Babii is a go-getter in every aspect of the word. Aside from his double workouts in one day and playing the father figure to his newborn, the remaining hours are spent in the studio perfecting his craft. With his Instagram name reading “Trap Art,” the Guyanese and Haitian rapper, producer, and songwriter embodies the definition of someone who’s in their own lane, carving their own unique sound and style in today’s generation of music.
When it comes to his work ethic, he sets the bar. He states, “You may have better music than me, you may look better than me, you may be taller than me, but I’ll die before I let you outwork me. That's my mindset.”
You may have seen Haiti’s name from his viral moment freestyle on Real 92.3 (which caught the attention of Chrissy Tiegen), or maybe from his breakout single “Change Ya Life.” Either way, Haiti is proud to put Stockton, California on the map, serving as one of the first known artists to come out of his city. Beyond that, he’s followed by the likes of Rihanna and Meek Mill.
Flaunt caught up with Haiti via FaceTime, who was located in Las Vegas preparing for his lady’s birthday. He jokes, “I’m a ladies man.” Read below as we discuss fatherhood, inspo behind “Red Lights,” moving to Los Angeles, learning how to produce, a day in the life, studio essentials, going Gold, Rihanna and Meek Mill cosigns, his new album Trap Art, and more!
How are you holding up during the COVID-19 pandemic?
I’ve been doing great actually, it hasn't stopped nothing. I’ve been having time to myself, to my daughter, understand my baby. Quarantine’s giving me time to focus on me, working, and focus on my family.
How’s fatherhood treating you?
It’s great, it's an experience. Before the baby even was here, I was already motivated to go harder in everything.
What's the best part of fatherhood?
That feeling in your heart you get when you look at her smile. When I see my daughter smile… the worst thing is blown away. I don't see how professional athletes do it when they be on on the road for games. I see how they do it because they get the money but damn, the best thing is being around this person. This little human being laughing and giggling all the time.
“Red Lights” video out now, who or what inspired this one?
I always experiment with my voice and flows, I knew it was the time to give the fans what they wanted. I mastered my craft and realized it's a sample of that. It’s West Coast in it, but I'm singing in melodic ways. When I made “Red Lights,” first off shout out to my producer, Hitamadethebeat, he killed it. Shoutout to my engineer Darrius up at EMPIRE studios in Frisco. I really went home, wrote to the beat, went to the studio and laid it down.
You live in Los Angeles now, when did you leave Stockton?
I left Stockton 2 or 3 months ago. Stockton’s only 5 to 6 hours away from LA, LA’s a second home anyway so it’s not like I’m too far. It's an easy move. I got a lot of family, a lot of people in LA anyway. It's where everything is at so you have to be in LA if you're from the West Coast.
How was it shooting with the snakes in the music video?
Shoutout to DezGreat, she directed the video. She really sat with me one on one and asked me a bunch of questions about what's my ideas, what do I see, what do I want in the video? She really brought it to life, but she put her own oomph into it. The snake part, I love stuff like that because it's stepping outside my comfort zone. I'm comfortable being uncomfortable.
Were the snakes scary at all?
It was my first time with snakes. As a kid, I always told myself I'm scared of snakes. But when I got in front of one, I wasn't scared at all. If it bites me, it bites me. I don't really care. I’ma do this video, that's what my mindset was. When I step into a character, I can do whatever I want. I'm Tom Cruise! I’m Haiti Babii, I step into that mode.
What is it you want fans to get from your story?
Honestly with “Red Lights” usually I don't care what people think but this song, I really was checking out the comments on YouTube. I got a lot of positive reviews. A lot of people said “I found out because of the Riri situation. Yo, Wyclef shouted you out so this is how I found out about you and I realized you make dope ass songs.” People are respecting my songwriting skills now, so I got a lot of good reviews from fans.
What’s your creative process in the studio? (writing & producing)
I literally freestyled one song my whole life. I’ve never freestyled a song, I write everything down. I always go home, find a bunch of beats, I’ll spend hours or days coming up with the best verse, best hook. Erasing, rewriting. I go to the studio and I lay it down. I’m one on one with my producers. You know how somebody work with a lot of writers? I don't have that. I don't work with writers, I work with a bunch of producers and engineers in one room. The best thing to me is the mixing. I co-produce a lot of my tracks, most of my tracks you hear I co-pro.
Have you always known how to produce?
I started when I made “Change Ya Life,” I co-produced my hit record. I've been doing it more so because listening to people like Travis Scott and Kanye, they always say you get the best of your music. That inspires me, I gotta start co-producing so it can sound 100% me. I gotta give it my all.
How’d it feel to go Gold off “Change Ya Life”?
It feels great. I always looked at myself as a superstar artist, a person who’s looking for longevity and not success for a moment. It blew up through TikTok on a fluke. When that blew up, okay the world knows my name. Now I got a reason to keep going, I got my plaque. It’s like getting your first little trophy. Going Gold to me, the feeling was almost as equal as getting a Grammy. Only reason I say that is because I come from so much. I'm from a little city, so going Gold was huge. That’s why I can say stuff like “I’m a king where I'm from,” talk my little shit and get cocky because I'm from a little town. Only people you know from my town outside of artists are Nate Diaz, Nick Diaz, a few NFL players, but the world doesn't know then. For me to make my own name, now I have graffiti of my faces up on the walls in Stockton, it’s dope.
You say “the dream is free the hustle isn’t,” what’s the reality of the grind?
Really when I had my daughter 5 months ago, even before she was born, it’s an extra oomph in my life in general. I was less lackadaisical, I was more intuitive, more on point with everything I'm doing in life. Now I wake up at 4 in the morning to go work out. I wake up at 4 AM, I eat, I get to the gym at 5:30 AM. I go back home, I shower, eat again, play the game for a little bit and go back to the gym about 10 AM. Look I’m going crazy, nobody can stop me. [laughs]
After I go home from my second workout, I eat again but I make sure I don't eat too big. I like to snack so while I'm snacking, I’m writing. I limit my gaming time. I pick a beat or I look for a beat, and I write. I don't even have to like the beat but the fact I can make a whole song to it, I can use those lyrics and adjust them to another track I got. Always making my brain work. I call my writing time my homework. After my homework, I plan a studio session whatever day it is. If we’re talking a non-studio session day, I'm down spending time with my family. I use the whole rest of the day spending time with my babygirl. If you’re talking a studio day, I do all I just said. I leave for Frisco, get to Frisco, record. I’ll be in until 2 AM or 3 AM.
What drives your double workouts? One workout is a lot!
I'm 23 but I’m already an athlete already. I’m an artist, I look at my life like other artists. What’re they doing? Why aren't you getting up at this time? Why are people in New York getting up at this time and we’re not? What are you doing that's that special? Me waking up early makes me feel like I'm outworking the people who they call talented. You may have better music than me, you may look better than me, you may be taller than me, but I’ll die before I let you outwork me. That's my mindset.
Who are you bumping when you work out?
Travis Scott, I listen to that. Young Thug, I listen to that. Drake, listen to him. Kanye. Lately I've been slapping Jay-Z, a lot of Jay-Z on my Spotify playlist. Of course, me. When I slap my music, I critique myself. I'm listening to my old songs like “oh, I coulda said this. Oh, I coulda switched this. Oh, I shoulda turned that down.” Other than that, my workout playlist consists of those artists
Favorite Travis Scott song?
I got so many. I have a new one, it’s brand new. It’s called “WHO? WHAT!” When I first heard it, nah I’ma skip it. I kept skipping it when I’m listening to the album. When I finally played it, this shit slaps! That's my new favorite song by him, period in general. Then “Mamacita” with him, Young Thug, and Rich Homie.
Is Travis your dream collab then?
For sure, I’d call it a dream collab. Anybody who meshes well with me and my craft... I look at the game like this: if you're an artist out there and fans feel we have similarities together, we got the name game and the same flow, I don't want to work with you. You know why, because it’d be a repetitive track. I’d rather build a relationship with you and tell you “yo, your shit’s dope.” If I work with someone like Travis, he’s going to test me. I want to work with somebody who’s going to test my abilities, not just “you’re a rapper, I’m a rapper.” Because that can happen anytime. For instance Sada Baby can come out of anywhere and say “let’s work.” We both go rap on here. With someone like Travis, I have to step my game up. I’m might have to come hard, I might have to sing a little bit. It always differs. I’m a hardworking artist so I like working with everybody at the end of the day.
3 things you need in the studio?
I workout while I’m in the studio, which is crazy. No one knows that unless you’re in my session. I get these 2 little weight bags, nothing but sand in it basically. Use those to hold down light stands or microphone stands. I pick those out to put a piano room, I’ll be in the room listening. I’ll get resistance bands so I need those. As far as food, we can have some Skittles in there. And some Fiji water, need the Fiji water.
Talk about bringing your Haitian culture into your music.
It started like this: California Hatian, I call it an album but it's more of a mixtape. If people listened to it, that really showed the world okay, this is me showing you my Guyanese side. Not just Haitian because I'm more Guyanese than I am Haitan. I'm showing them that side, I can step outside my comfort zone. Stepping into this new album, Trap Art is more for my dominant fans. My original fanbase, the fans that were listening to me when I was dropping those hood tracks, those ratchet tracks. Trap Art, I’m giving them what they want. I'm giving them that street, that hood. I'm not really experimenting with new sounds. Plain and simple: I'm here, this is my year. I’ma talk my shit, I'm still a gangsta. You know what it is. That's how I'm stepping into Trap Art, 2021. Get rich or die trappin’!
Is your sound considered trap?
It’s not trap because trap to the industry is a whole different sound. The trap is where you come from. In an instance, you come from it too because trap is a mindset. Trap doesn't have to be where drugs are sold out of. If you’re trapped once in your mind, you could be in college and feeling like damn what's the next step? You’re trapped. The reason I put art is because art itself is artistic. Whenever you're feeling trapped, draw out a pros and cons list and be artistic with the shit. Be artistic with your life. Sit down and think for yourself, set goals and eliminate boundaries. Do different shit. I named it Trap Art because it's different.
What's crazy about this Trap Art album, I went back to my inspirations when I was a kid. I grew up listening to a lot of 50 Cent, that first Get Rich or Die Tryin' album. That's why I cosign the name Get Rich or Die Trappin’. A lot of Usher for sure, you can hear both of those artists in that album. You can see where I got my inspirations and my ideas. Some Thug in there. Not to disrespect but Thug got it from Wayne, like how I say I got it from some artists. You go here, gotta respect Wayne too. That Hot Boys era.
Talk about Rihanna & Meek following you on Instagram, that’s huge.
Riri found out about me through the radio, she’s like “yo this kid has the look, he has the sound. He’s going to be big one day.” That's riri’s whole impression on me. I have a track with her that's going to be on her album, called “Real High” that I co-produced. Meek found out about me through girls and other people posting me, he’s like “Ima check his music out.” He was trying to sign me, I said I still got a deal with EMPIRE. He said “it’s all good, I’ma support you from the backend. I’m watching, I’ma fuck with you. That's how Meek’s hype was, it's all love. But Wyclef’s been the biggest for me, because I can hit Wyclef right now. I can talk to him anytime, that's unc right there. He’s cool.
What’re you most excited about in the new year?
If everything opens back up, I’m excited to compete. This is a competition to me. I'm not in competition with people in a negative way, I'm using my competition in a positive way to better myself . I can't wait to perform, to shine. I can't wait for the world to see who I am, and hear my music. It’s always going to be about the money for everybody and me too, but it's about respect for me. I want respect, give me my respect because I’m working hard. Y’all see me, that’s where I’m coming from.
Anything else you’d like to let us know?
Let the world know the Trap Art album is going to be the best thing they’ve heard from me and from the West Coast in a long time.
Haitian refugee becomes Battle Creek restaurateur, realizes his American dream
Battle Creek – On a cold Tuesday afternoon, Juliano Jean-Jules was outside Kellogg Arena, where he tended to some cherry wood-smoked brisket and jerk chicken wings on his rotisserie grill.
His sleeves were rolled up and he wore an apron and a knit cap. His mask only partly obscured the joy on his face as he readied the meats before darting inside to a commissary kitchen where he cooked and assembled dishes for curbside pickup.
“I put my heart into it,” Jean-Jules told the Battle Creek Enquirer. “I love doing the cooking. When people come and say it’s good, that pushes me. I do it from scratch. I take my time. If I have to get up early, I will do it, no problem. I have to make sure they get their food. I want my customer to have my food hot and the way they wanted it. If people are happy, I’m happy.”
It’s been quite a journey for Jean-Jules to bring his one-of-a-kind blend of Caribbean- and American-style food to Battle Creek. A refugee from Haiti, his opening of Island Style BBQ represents a realization of both his personal dream and the American dream.
Jean-Jules and his wife, Daleth, have lived in Battle Creek for 12 years, where the couple raised their three adult children. His story begins in the port city of Saint-Marc, Haiti, as one of nine children.
“I was the older one in the house. My daddy was a fisherman with my mom. When they would go fishing, after school I would come home to prepare dinner for my sisters and brothers,” Juliano said. “That’s how I know I can cook. When they come home from fishing, I always tried my best for them.”
Jean-Jules said that as a teenager in 1990, he was making money by helping people into boats to flee the island nation after Jean-Bertrand Aristide, the democratically elected president of Haiti, was overthrown in a coup d’état and the military government was persecuting his followers.
One day, Jean-Jules said he “jumped on the boat and came.”
His boat was picked up by U.S. authorities and Jean-Jules subsequently spent over a year at a refugee camp at Guantanamo Bay, where some 50,000 Haitian and Cuban refugees would eventually be held. The naval base known as “Gitmo” has been used as a military prison for alleged enemy combatants since 2002.
“It was tough, but wasn’t locked down,” he said of the camp. “We would play soccer and go to the beach, go fishing. It wasn’t too bad.”
Jean-Jules’ first stop in the United States was in Lansing. He had relatives in Michigan but he did not know them yet, so he said he was homeless for weeks, living at the Lansing Capital Airport until an uncle in Brooklyn, New York sent for him.
Daleth had moved to Brooklyn from her native Guyana in South America when she was 13 and became neighbors with Juliano’s uncle. The couple met at a block party in 1994 and married six months later.
“He’s a charming fellow and there is something about the connection that was made,” Daleth said. “What drew me in was this smile that he’s got. That’s a nice looking guy who can cook and clean and do all this stuff.”
In 1997, the couple moved from New York to Lansing, where they opened a clothing store “that didn’t go very well,” Daleth said. Juliano partnered to open Lil’ BBQ Shack in 2016 before stepping out on his own.
The Jean-Jules family moved to Battle Creek in 2006 after Daleth took a job with the Battle Creek VA Medical Center, where she continues to work as the Homeless Program Manager while helping her husband with Island Style BBQ when possible.
Juliano made a name for himself locally after taking home the Judge’s Choice Award for 2020 Best Startup Pitmaster at the Que the Creek Festival at Kellogg Arena in February.
The genesis for Island Style BBQ began at the family dinner table, according to Daleth.
“He is from Haiti, I am from Guyana, we’ve got some adult kids that are American, first generation. The idea was born out trying to put all three cultures together in this nice collective,” she said. “You have Haitian, Guyanese and American culture in the same household. My husband loves cooking food and has always wanted to do that, so here was this unique opportunity to bring this to Battle Creek. This is my husband’s dream and vision.”
Island Style BBQ is targeting a spring opening of its brick and mortar location. It is operating as a pop-up restaurant during the holiday season, and is available for delivery through Eats BC.
The startup has been aided in its launch by the Battle Creek Small Business Development Office and through its membership in the Second Muse/Morning Light cohort, a six-month entrepreneurship incubator program supported by the city of Battle Creek, the W.K. Kellogg Foundation and other community partners.
While a pop-up restaurant isn’t how Juliano envisioned starting his own business, he’s grateful to be serving his food to a community that has embraced him and his family.
“I appreciate everything I have because life is tough,” Juliano said. “When I come to America, I thought America wasn’t going to be tough like that. But America is tough. The stuff I make, there’s not too many people who have it here. Some people say they have to go to Ann Arbor or Detroit. I can make the same thing as in Ann Arbor or Detroit, maybe even better.”
From Bean to Bar, Haiti's Cocoa Wants International Recognition
PORT-AU-PRINCE, HAITI - Although small in the face of South America's giants, Haiti is slowly developing its cocoa industry, earning better incomes for thousands of farmers and refuting the stereotype that culinary art is the preserve of wealthy countries.
Haiti's annual production of 5,000 metric tons of cocoa pales in comparison to the 70,000 metric tons produced per year by neighboring Dominican Republic, but the sector's development is recent in the island nation.
Feccano, a federation of cocoa cooperatives in northern Haiti, became the first group to organize exchanges in 2001 by prioritizing farmers' profits.
"Before, there was the systematic destruction of cocoa trees because the market price wasn't interesting for farmers who preferred very short-cycle crops," said Guito Gilot, Feccano's commercial director.
The cooperative now works with more than 4,000 farmers in northern Haiti.
By fermenting its members' beans before export, Feccano has been able to target the market for fine and aromatic cocoa.
"Feccano's customers pay for quality: they don't have the New York Stock Exchange as a reference," Gilot said.
Just-in-time collection
Smelling potential, Haiti's private sector began investing in the cocoa industry, which until then had been supported solely by non-governmental organizations and humanitarian efforts.
By setting up its fermentation setter in 2014 in Acul-du-Nord, the company Produit des iles (PISA) entered the market. But the logistical challenges are many.
"The producers we work with farm less than a hectare, often divided into several plots, whereas, in Latin America, a small producer already owns four or five hectares," said Aline Etlicher, who developed the industry at PISA.
"We buy fresh cocoa, the same day as the harvest so the farmer no longer has the problems of drying and storing that they would have if they sold it to an intermediary," the French agronomist said.
In recent months, this just-in-time bean collection from all sites has been more challenging because many roads were regularly blocked because of socio-political unrest.
Maintaining organic and fair-trade certifications for the cocoa is delicate, but the Haitian style has made its mark abroad.
"Today there are bars sold in the United States that are called Acul-du-Nord," Etlicher said.
"With our customers, we are part of the 'bean to bar' movement of chocolate makers who transform the cocoa bean into the chocolate bar," she said, adding that by cutting out the middleman, Haitian producers' revenues have doubled.
And on the other end of the chain, bean processing remains local.
'Plant your cocoa'
For master chocolatier Ralph Leroy, making a rum ganache — Haitian, just like all the products he uses — was not an obvious choice.
After years in Montreal, he returned home to Haiti as a haute-couture stylist.
His shift to cocoa began when he made clothes out of chocolate for a culinary trade show. The training he then underwent for a year in Italy fueled his passion as much as his pride.
"The first week, I think I was insulted when the professor said, 'Chocolate is made for Europe. You there, plant your cocoa, we buy the cocoa and do the work,'" he recalled.
Today, Leroy runs the chocolate company he founded in 2016, Makaya, and the edible sculptures that come out of his workshop are a huge sensation at parties. His company now has about 20 employees who share his passion.
"Even in cooking schools, we don't learn this. I learned everything here and I am very, very proud," said Duasmine Paul, 22, head of Makaya's laboratory.
Echoes of car horns reach the ears of Makaya employees carefully sorting cocoa beans, a side effect of the chaotic traffic that paralyzes Haitian capital Port-au-Prince at the end of the year.
From his workshop, where he also concocts chocolate-based cocktails, Leroy sees as sweet revenge the great marketing of his bars.
"The greatest pleasure is when, before traveling, Haitians come here to buy a lot to offer abroad. It's become their pride. And also when Europeans come and buy all the stock. … I tell myself that I am doing a good job," he says with a burst of laughter.
N.J. restaurant doesn’t stop at authentic Haitian fare. It also sends love back home.
In 2013, five friends came together to create something new in Midtown Elizabeth, something that reminded them of the place they called home — the small Caribbean country of Haiti.
The result: First Republic Restaurant and Lounge, where Haitian-Americans, and anyone familiar with the distinctly West Indian cuisine, can score authentic meals that taste like some “good home-cooking,” the owners said.
On weekends — pre-pandemic — the joint doubled as a small-scale Haitian nightclub, sometimes packed wall-to-wall, as patrons danced to traditional konpa music or American hip-hop. Some evenings, it played host to comedy shows and open mic nights, akin to the atmosphere on an episode of “Def Comedy Jam.”
But First Republic Lounge is as much a deliberate statement as it is a vibe. Haiti is a country with a rich history, full of resilience.
The establishment’s moniker is a direct reference to the Haitian Revolution, lasting from 1791 to 1804. It’s a moment in history which defined its fighting spirit. The former French colony became the first country in the Americas to be founded by formerly enslaved people.
Paintings by Haitian artist Kervin Andre trace the walls of this dimly-lit spot, giving off the feeling of dining in an art gallery. Each composition depicts the story of Haitian independence. Names of Haitian revolutionaries and some of their famous quotes are printed on a wall next to the restaurant’s stage.Keep up with the latest stories on race, diversity and inclusion in New Jersey. Sign up with your email:
The culture is served on a platter every day, each time someone orders black mushroom rice, creole shrimp or tasso kabrit (fried goat), along with a host of other staples found across the island.
Some dishes have historically symbolic origins, like the popular soup joumou (pumpkin soup). For Haitians around the globe, it’s part of an important New Year’s Day tradition.
“When we were enslaved...we were not allowed to drink it,” co-owner Donald Dulorie told NJ Advance Media. “We’d make it for the master, for them to drink, but we were not allowed to even touch it. After we got our freedom, our independence, the first thing we did is make it for ourselves. That’s the reason (for the New Year’s custom).”
It’s one that resonates with everyone who works at First Republic. Each of the restaurant’s owners, a group of five friends who met at Kean University in Union, hails from Haiti or is of Haitian descent.
“We always want to showcase the culture in a way that people have never seen before...or to inspire the younger generation of Haitian descent (to show) that they, themselves, could own an establishment,” said co-owner Colomb Thomas-Petit.
The restaurant’s mission extends far beyond the walls of its brick-and-mortar edifice, beyond New Jersey state lines and even beyond U.S. borders. The idea for the establishment was born out of a genuine desire to help Haiti rebuild after a 2010 earthquake that devastated the island, and killed nearly 250,000 people.
“One of the things we were wondering was how to really help Haiti. And how to rejuvenate Haiti’s image and culture,” said one founder and owner, Stanley Neron. “We wanted to showcase it and put it on a silver platter.”
The proprietors also formed NJ 4 Haiti, a partnership with United Way of Greater Union County. Through the organization, some of First Republic’s proceeds go toward an annual service trip to the partners’ homeland — flanked by doctors, engineers, mental health specialists and social services professionals, according to its website.
“We’ve been in Haiti now for the past 10 years, working on water purification, working on mobile clinics, supporting education, supporting schools, and orphanages, and making sure that there’s hope,” Neron said.
The trip can be a grounding experience, the owners said.
“It’s a wake up call in terms of the needs that are in demand in Haiti. The things we all take for granted here, people would die to have,” said Thomas-Petit. “When we do go, what we see is how resilient people are in Haiti.”
In Elizabeth, First Republic has become a Midtown pillar and a vital cog in the machine for economic development in the Garden State’s fourth most populous city, according to officials.
“It’s more than a restaurant. It’s a place where art meets culture,” said Jennifer Costa, President and CEO of the Greater Elizabeth Chamber of Commerce.
Costa called First Republic Restaurant and Lounge a “cornerstone” in the community. The business has stepped up to help first responders during the coronavirus pandemic and hosted a socially-distanced Juneteenth event earlier this year. First Republic is active on social media promoting events at the location and causes around town.
“It’s all in their programming and their approach. There hasn’t been a time I haven’t picked up the phone...calling them to do a collaborative partnership, or (something) innovative,” Costa said.
“They really are a community leader.”
‘Insecure’ Star Natasha Rothwell, Aziza Barnes to Develop HBO Drama Based on Ibi Zoboi Novel ‘Pride’
“Insecure” star Nastasha Rothwell and Aziza Barnes have teamed to develop a series based on the Ibi Zoboi novel “Pride” at HBO, Variety has learned.
“Pride” is described as a Haitian-Dominican coming of age story explores young love, teenage angst, and gentrification through magical realism fated by the gods of Santeria with an Austenian twist.
Rothwell and Barnes both worked on the story for the project, while Barnes will be the writer. Both will serve as executive producers. Leslie Morgenstein and Gina Girolamo of Alloy Entertainment will also executive produce. Alloy Entertainment will produce in association with Warner Bros. Television.
Rothwell has been a series regular, writer, and producer on HBO’s “Insecure” since its first season. She also previously wrote for “Saturday Night Live” during the 2014-2015 season. She is set to appear in the upcoming film “Wonder Woman 1984,” while her past credits include the “Sonic the Hedgehog” film and shows like “Brooklyn Nine-Nine,” “American Dad,” “Bob’s Burgers,” and “The Simpsons.”
She is repped by CAA, Edna Cowan Management, Jackoway Austen Tyerman, and Sechel PR.
Barnes is a celebrated playwright whose work has been produced at prestigious theater companies like Steppenwolf Theater, Woolly Mammoth Theater, and MCC Theater. She has participated with residencies such as Sundance, Ojai Plywrights Conference, and Center Theater Group Playwriting Workshop. Her TV credits include “Teenage Bounty Hunters” and “Snowfall.”
She is repped by Grandview and Myman Greenspan
Alloy is currently in production on three series: “You,” “Legacies,” and “Gossip Girl.” HBO Max recently made a direct-to-series order for the upcoming Alloy drama “Pretty Little Liars: Original Sin.”
Alloy is repped by WME.
When Art & Fashion Collide: Coach’s Newest Collection Celebrates Jean-Michel Basquiat
One of the most recognizable American artists, Jean-Michel Basquiat, brought innovation to the art world and beyond, becoming an icon to many, especially creatives of color. Inspired by his lasting legacy, the heritage fashion brand Coach has partnered with the Basquiat estate to release a one-of-a-kind collection timed perfectly for the fall.
First appearing on the runway during A/W 2020, this exclusive capsule includes a wide array of bold bags, Ready to Wear pieces, and accessories featuring the late artist’s iconic artwork and phrases. Basquiat left a significant impact on art, fashion and music, and his influence lives on.
“Basquiat is one of my heroes,” Coach Creative Director Stuart Vevers said in a statement. ““He embodied the creative, inclusive spirit of New York and was a force for change in his community. I am proud to celebrate his work and values and help bring them to a new generation.”
“I am proud to celebrate his work and values and help bring them to a new generation.” – Coach Creative Director Stuart Vevers
For the official Coach X Basquiat campaign, Coach enlisted ambassador Michael B. Jordan, Megan Thee Stallion and an inclusive cast of rising Black and Brown creatives to honor Basquiat’s legacy. ESSENCE caught up with six of the campaign’s stars to get their take on Basquiat’s impact, Black art and their very first Coach piece.
Brenn Lorenzo
“I was first introduced to Basquiat back in high school. I was taking art history and he was one of the many artists we learned about. His life story and many of the attributes that led to his fame really stuck with me and made me appreciate him even more. One thing that always stuck out to me is that Basquiat always put out what he wanted with no regret and stood by his pieces. Even if some things weren’t received the way he wanted [them] to be, he still was behind [them] and that’s something not everyone can do. The best thing about Black art is that it is powerful. Black art is beautiful, bold and striking. Every piece is a new incredible story waiting to be told.
I love Coach because they’re not afraid to try something new and it’s shown through their many collaborations. My favorite piece is the beat shoulder bag in ivory. It has the crown on it—which was a staple in Basquiat’s work. This was actually my first Coach piece, and I feel incredibly honored to have it be in the Basquiat collaboration. There’s so much history behind the bag and the artist himself, and the fact that he was from New York makes it even more intimate.”
Brenn’s Pick:
Jules Lorenzo
“I faintly remember learning of Basquiat when I was in high school. However, it wasn’t until college that I started delving into his work and who he was as a person. In an urban studies class I had, I learned how street art and graffiti made many places that were once considered ‘undesirable and dangerous’ become super popular and interesting. He didn’t confine himself to one particular medium. He expressed himself through graffiti, painting and music. I’m a fan of the idea that it’s good to have an entire toolbox of creative talents instead of just homing in exclusively on one. I believe that you get to broaden your horizons as an artist and learn more.
I love that Coach has never been afraid to try something new with its brand and designs! Whether it’s through playful and colorful collabs or showcasing an artist’s work with a new collection. It’s like a breath of fresh air. I’m always excited to see what Coach has up its sleeves.”
Jules’ Pick:
Asia Irving
“I was first introduced to Jean-Michel Basquiat and his art a couple of years ago at Art Basel. I’d heard of him briefly before, but this was my first time seeing his work in person. Jean-Michel’s art immediately sparks thought and inspiration. It made me wonder what he was feeling or trying to express about his own experience and life as a Black man through his art…. The best thing about Black art is seeing and experiencing it. It’s an unexplainable proud moment to see and celebrate other Black artists’ stories and journeys through their art. Every work of art differs in perspective, but each perspective is powerful and unique in its own way.
Coach brings back so many nostalgic memories. I got my first Coach piece as a Christmas gift from my grandfather in middle school. It was a baby blue and white small Coach bag, and I was beyond happy that I finally got my first piece.”
Asia’s Pick:
Sarah Feingold
“I was living in Frankfurt at the time, spending the day chilling with one of my good friends. We sat together and watched old footage of Jean-Michel Basquiat’s interviews and documentary clips for hours on a video projector. His story and energy were so mesmerizing to me, and I think that’s why my first ‘encounter’ with him still stands out in my head.
I felt so classy and cute the first time I wore Coach! My mom actually wore this beautiful Coach bifold wallet in beige and cream in the ’90s, and one day, I took it to school as a little purse with a matching beige jacket on. It had some metallic elements involved and the classic Coach logo printed all over. It was so luxurious and pretty. I was always mesmerized by my mom’s style in general, but this specific piece had a special place in my heart. I felt like it brought my outfit full circle. It’s such a little thing, but it gave me such a nice feeling of completion.”
Sarah’s Pick:
Kristen Noel Crawley
“As a creative, I’d always heard Basquiat’s name referenced in relation to art or fashion, and in my twenties I finally got to see his work on exhibition in New York. It felt completely relevant to the visuals and artistry we see now that I can’t help but think he was an artist way ahead of his time. I feel that art made by a Black artist has a richer storytelling aspect to it because of the many trials and tribulations we as a people have had to endure.
I think I got my first Coach bag when I was 12 or 13, and at that time it was THE It Bag to have. I just remember feeling so excited and happy to have a fashion staple to be able to show off at school the next day. It really was the first piece in my closet that I truly cherished.”
Kristen’s Pick:
Diana Gordon
“I was introduced to Basquiat in my early twenties. Of course, I had heard of him before but in my early twenties, I was still living in New York City and was dating a painter who was really immersed in that underground New York street art scene. Basquiat was raw and chaotic.
My first Coach piece was a green faux-fur coat I wore in a music video. Coach lent it to me. It was lavish. For a luxury brand, it’s pretty accessible.”
Diana’s Pick:
Guaranteed to be a fan favorite of art and fashion lovers alike, the Coach x Basquiat capsule is available now. Shop the full collection on coach.com before it sells out.01Coach X Jean-Michel Basquiat Oversized Varsity Jacket
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available at Coach $450 SHOP NOW08Coach X Jean-Michel Basquiat Wells Backpack
The Lived Experiences That Shaped Haitian Flag Day
The butt of anti-immigrant jokes. Fistfights after school. Inner-shame in public spaces. Haitian-Americans across social media say it wasn’t always cool to be Haitian.
Their parents who emigrated to the United States by boat or by plane, legally or illegally, experienced vicious anti-Haitian sentiments that spilled into their childhood. Wedged between cultures, their coming-of-age stories are ripe with resilience, as their strict parents kept them bound to their traditional roots — an airtight proximity to the homeland through a Haitian value system, food, dance, and music:
Lekol, Legliz, Lakay (School, Church and Home).
And as the Haitian diaspora increases their influence online, they’re controlling their own stories — stories once marred by dehumanizing narratives. But for many first-generation Haitian-Americans, Haitian Flag Day isn't really an ode to national pride, it’s a celebration of the variety of lived experiences that make up Haitian culture and identity.
Two internet influencers, Wanda Tima and Success Jr., say dignity and respect is currency in a country that too often devalues their worth. They explain why their content and individual stories reach across cultural differences, and how Haitians are celebrating Haitian Flag Day, May 18, during Haitian Heritage Month.
Whenda “Wanda” Tima, founder of L’Union Suite:
Wanda Tima is the founder and owner of L’Union Suite, an established media gateway for all things Haitian. With appearances in Forbes, BET and Black Entreprise, and nearly 500,000 combined followers on Instagram, Facebook and Twitter, Tima says being forced to navigate multiple spaces inspired her to create L’Union Suite.
Wanda Living Between Two Worlds: “I have all these other connections from Okap, Cape-Haitien, where my family .. is from. And then I was raised in Turks and Caicos and Grand Turk and Provo for the first half of my life,” Tima told WLRN. “And then I moved to the U.S. in South Florida and have lived in South Florida ever since.” Tima says she consumed everything about Haitian culture in South Florida — the music, food, and church services.
“But then I'm also very Turks Islander. And I was very American because there was this missing connection piece like living in two different spaces at all times and not knowing how to even blend two,” Tima said.
The Creation of L’Union Suite: Tima says she sought a better understanding of Haiti, researching its history and culture — the diaspora stretches from Brazil, Cuba and the Bahamas to Chile, Canada and the United States. She was mostly inspired by Haitians in professional spaces — doctors, musicians, and Haitians “in the boardrooms.”
“And people are doing some of the most amazing things, you know, in the world. You know, are Haitian. We're creating our own narrative. We know our pain. We know our stuff. And we know what's going on in our country. We know what's going on at home, you know, but at the same time, we can't allow the world to just tell only the pain and the suffering story. That's not our only story.”
How Are Haitians Celebrating Haitian Flag Day: “So, social media is definitely, highly red and blue for the whole month [the colors of the Haitian flag]. There's more food. There's more people speaking Creole. There's more connecting."
"The comments sections are definitely, you know, more engaging. So, no, we definitely know how to find each other no matter where we are in the world. All May.”
Success St Fleur, Jr:
Sketch comedian Success Jr is known for his coming-of-age viral videos that invite viewers inside his traditional Haitian-American home. With a combined 287,000 dedicated followers on Instagram and Facebook, Success, who goes by Success Jr, produces situational comedy that is filled with insider jokes about traditional Haitian upbringing. His videos, produced with a mixture of English and Haitian Creole, often seek to “bridge the Haitian and American cultural gap.”
Success Jr playing his popular Manman Junior character.CREDIT SUCCESS JR
Success Jr Living Between Two Worlds: “My upbringing was tough — being most of my upbringing was in the early '90s, and, you know, we weren't accepted and we didn't accept ourselves. So we tried to hide it, “ Success Jr told WLRN.
“Now we have other nationalities that want to celebrate the flag with us. And they are also enjoying our culture where we used to get beat up for it. And now we have people like these same bullies, now they're wanting to join us in celebrating the first black independent country.”
The Creation of Success Jr: “I see my page as like therapy. I didn't even realize when I started this. Like so many of us are raised some way alike, like identical,” Success Jr said. “And I have people who come up to me as they're like, ‘hey, I feel like you're my family. Like you grew up in the next room from me.’
How Are Haitians Celebrating Haitian Flag Day: Success Jr says normally Kompas music revelers would get together and celebrate Haitian Flag Day, but the COVID-19 pandemic this year is forcing people to celebrate online.
“Kompas fest has been in our tradition for the past 20-plus years, so everybody knows Kompas fest, and you got like the new generation such as DJ Stakz, who brings New York, Boston, Montreal, and all those northeast cities — he brings them all down to Miami, and we all celebrate together.”
From Haiti to Chile, a Singer Bridges Styles – and Cultures
With Haitian rhythms and Spanish lyrics, Ralph Jean Baptiste shows integration is possible for other migrants.
SANTIAGO, CHILE — Escápate conmigo otra vez, sings Ralph Jean Baptiste in his Santiago apartment, over a demo track of slow R&B beats. His rhythmic Haitian accent deepens the melody of the Spanish lyrics.
Although born and raised speaking French Creole in Haiti’s capital, Port-au-Prince, Baptiste, 29, writes all his songs in Spanish. He moved to Chile after Haiti’s devastating earthquake in 2010, with dreams of a music career in tow.
“To get to audiences in Chile you have to sing in Spanish. They’ve never heard anything in French or Creole. I had to adapt,” he said.
Adapt—he says the word as if it is inherently natural to him. Baptiste has had to adapt daily to be accepted in his new homeland. Beat by beat, over nine years of performances, he built a name for himself, and in 2019, Baptiste was finally able to release his first album, Rafa.
Musicians have always been a nomadic sort, and Baptiste is no different. He had spent time in the Dominican Republic, where he learned Spanish, so after the earthquake struck, Baptiste chose to pursue his music in Latin America — unlike the 46,000 displaced Haitians who sought asylum in the United States He settled in Chile after short stints in Peru and Argentina.
Baptiste was among the first in what would become a surge of Haitian migrants in Chile. The country had granted fewer than a 1,000 visas to Haitians between 2005 and 2009, and when Baptiste arrived in 2010, only 713 Haitians received Chilean working visas — a marked difference from 2018, when 126,000 were granted.
Haitians were the first black, non-Spanish-speaking migrant group to arrive in Chile. They stood out. “When I arrived people looked at me strangely. They hadn’t seen Afros before. They touched my skin for luck,” Baptiste told AQ. “I have faced a lot of discrimination and rejection.”
When pressed to explain, Baptiste breaks into a broad smile and laughs. “I don’t like to remember the bad times.”
Beyond discrimination, being a migrant compounds the economic challenges that already exist for aspiring artists, said Dr. Marisol Facuse, who researches migration and music at the University of Chile.
“It is very hard for migrants to live off music, especially for migrants who don’t have networks, and Haitians are a community in Chile that isn’t very integrated culturally,” Facuse told AQ. “The question of survival is the biggest barrier.”
Baptiste performs at a special show for migrants at a Valparaiso music festival in 2018.
But survive Baptiste has, and his positive outlook provides a model of the kind of integration possible for migrants with the right support and attitude. His song “Aguante” (Endurance) sums up his experience living in a foreign land:
I had to leave everything and go far / to start from zero on a long road. / It has not been easy, but you have to move forward / cry and laugh / life has to be lived.
“I’m inspired by his character and strength,” said Charlie Checkz, who produced several of Baptiste’s songs, including “Aguante.” Checkz values the Haitian musician’s unique contribution to Chile’s musical scene.
“We combine rhythms — us as Chileans, and his Haitian music and culture. We put that in the music.”
Baptiste describes his music as worldly, priding himself on the unique fusion of styles he creates, mixing Chilean urban and cumbia sounds with African rhythms and North American soul. In his music videos, he celebrates Chilean traditions — such as performing the country’s national dance, Cueca — reflecting his embrace of Chile’s culture.
And in spite of the challenges, Baptiste notes that things are changing for the better. “Around three years ago there started to be more inclusion for migrants,” he said. In 2018, he performed at an annual festival for migrant artists, organized by Chile’s cultural ministry. Last year, he won a state-funded grant to support migrants in music, which enabled him to record and produce two music videos. Things were starting to look up.
However, the momentum he was building came to an abrupt halt when the mass protests broke out in Chile last October. The following months were tense and violent — people died in clashes with the police, festivals were canceled, and few people went out to concerts.
“I had to cancel all my shows. I haven’t been able to perform since November,” Baptiste said.
However, he is sympathetic to the struggle of the Chileans. It’s a frustration shared by the migrant community, he explained. In August 2018, Chile’s president, Sebastián Piñera, claimed to be “putting the house in order” when he signed a reform outlining stricter migration policies. Three months later, the government began flying some Haitians back to their country in what it called a “humanitarian return plan.”
“People who needed help, he just sent them back,” Baptiste said.
“Chile is a complicated country,” Baptiste added. “And Chileans are fighting for a fairer life. They should include migrants in that too.”
Baptiste believes his role as a musician is important in giving voice to his community.
“A lot of Haitians would like to say something, but they can’t because they don’t speak Spanish or they just aren’t heard,” he said.
“In my songs, I can pass on the message of what they feel.”
'Our heritage is abandoned': burning of Haitian church fuels anger at politicians
Damage to part of Unesco world heritage site is emblematic of uncaring government, critics say.
Cultural leaders in Haiti have described the gutting by fire of a celebrated 200-year-old church as an avoidable tragedy that highlights the fragility of the Caribbean nation’s patrimony – and the need to preserve its historical treasures.
The Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception church in the town of Milot is part of a Unesco world heritage site that includes the ruins of the Sans Souci palace and the Citadelle Laferrière, an imposing fort that looms over Haiti’s northern plains.
Fire tore through the church on Monday, causing its distinctive black wooden dome to collapse. The cause of the blaze has not been determined, but some saw it as indicative of the malaise of misrule that has long bedeviled the island – some of it locally rooted, and some imported by more powerful neighbors.
“[For years] we have been asking the state to ensure the protection of these colonial dwellings, which are important as monuments of slavery, yet nothing has been done,” said Laënnec Hurbon, a sociologist with the State University of Haiti.
“But the state spends its time buying luxurious cars for ministers, functionaries and parliamentarians. It is therefore not surprising that everything concerning the national heritage is abandoned.”
The church was constructed between 1810 and 1813 by Henri Christophe, one of a cadre of revolutionary leaders including Toussaint Louverture and Jean-Jacques Dessalines who helped Haiti oust the French and end the system of slavery.
Christophe went on to declare himself King Henry I and ruled in autocratic splendour over northern Haiti until his death by suicide in 1820 amid a protracted civil war.
On Christophe’s death, the church was ransacked, and its dome had collapsed following an 1842 earthquake. In the 1970s, the renowned Haitian architect Albert Mangonès led an effort to restore the complex. It was named a world heritage site in 1982.
Some worry the legacy that the buildings at Milot attest to is being lost amid Haiti’s current political upheaval.
“The structural inequalities in our society mean there has never been an education accessible to all that would teach the idea of the common good,” says the Haitian author Yanick Lahens.
Haiti has been shaken by often violent unrest for months, prompted in part by a long multibillion-dollar corruption scandal which has engulfed the administration of President Jovenel Moïse.
Despite the political battles, however, the church seems to pierce to the heart of Haiti’s national identity, across party lines.
In a letter to the government after the fire, educational and civil society figures called on the nation’s political leaders to “stop this denial of our history as a people [as] only these monuments remain, testimonies of our history of struggles, suffering and hope.”
One former president, Prosper Avril, who ruled the country from 1988 to 1990, has called for a taskforce to protect the country’s cultural heritage.
In a land that often seems beset by internecine political vendettas, some hope that even in this dire moment, the church’s reconstruction might serve as a point of unity.
“The royal chapel of Milot is a testimony to the history of our people,” said Erol Josué, director of Haiti’s national bureau of ethnology (BNE). “The Haitian state should engage all layers of the population in its reconstruction, because this is our heritage.”
Haiti gears up for annual carnival celebration
Haitians gear up for the annual Carnival celebration.
This year, the Mardi Gras festivities are seen as controversial in a country struggling
with gang violence, kidnappings and political unrest.
“I could go to China to take that (raw textiles) basically because, I know I will work with that, with more money but we don’t have money. But in the last minute we know that we are still going to be called (by the government) anyway. Anyway, as producers we don’t have a place where we can go to borrow money”, Arnelle Laguerre, a designer said.
Think about the children who are dancing and the cash required for their transportation.
The colorful parade generates money and some say much of those funds are badly needed in the Caribbean nation. For others, the merrymaking is wildly misplaced.
“If the carnival ends todayor tomorrow they should start thinking about the carnival for next year. Start thinking about things like the infrastructure, the road where they will have the carnival procession, clothes for children, the ambiance and money the children will need. Think about the children who are dancing and the cash required for their transportation”, dance instructor, Pierre Kerense said.
There have been damage done to parade stands and several vehicles. This has prompted calls for the carnival to be cancelled for a second year in a row.
But Haitian Prime Minister, Jean-Michel Lapin is having none of it.
He said festivities would go ahead as scheduled and along the usual route.
Rehearsals have been taking place in the Haitian capital of Port-au-prince for the February 23- 25 event.
The carnival is the most intense period for Haiti’s dress makers as it involves parties and other culturally related gatherings.
From Haiti with love: Caribbean cooking in Portland
Local programs helped entrepreneur Mathilde Aurélien-Wilson scale up her business
PORTLAND, Ore. (KOIN) — When Mathilde Aurélien-Wilson first arrived in Portland, she noticed something missing: the great food of her home country, Haiti.
“When I arrive here, I was looking for some food, Haitian food, Caribbean food, and I couldn’t find anything. So I find there is an opportunity to do something part of the community, it’s a diverse community,” she told KOIN 6 News.
Aurélien-Wilson was able to find her path to establish and grow her food-centered small business thanks to Portland Mercado, a Southeast Portland food cart pod and non-profit that assists Latino businesses.
Originally Aurélien-Wilson sold her products at local farmer’s markets, then she opened her own food cart. With Portland Mercado’s help, she opened a second location at their food cart pod.
The non-profit was then able to secure her a scholarship to attend a Portland Community College program called Getting Your Recipe to Market.
“That help me boost my knowledge about how to package. So I realize instead of selling my food and my beverage at the food cart, I can package and have it available for a bigger audience,” Aurélien-Wilson explained.
Mathilde’s Kitchen has since done away with the food cart format and is now a wholesaler of a pre-packaged ginger hibiscus drink for local grocery stores and a catering service. Offerings include dishes such as roasted pork, chicken pumpkin soup and fried plantains. She still uses Portland Mercado’s shared commercial kitchen space for her business.
Aurélien-Wilson and her husband Bruce Wilson previously started the first school at her home village in Haiti before moving to Portland in 2013.
Called La Renaissance Elementary School in the hillside village of Au Cenre, the school started as nothing more than a shack but has since grown to a prominent building of the village.
“It wasn’t that easy because with nothing available, no running water, no electricity,” it was difficult to get teachers to come in, Aurélien-Wilson said.
Eventually, they worked out a system where professional teachers would come in to train the local villagers to teach.
The school now partners with the Haitian government to help run it.
“We have them taking over the school. We still oversee what’s going on. But at least they’re taking on with the curriculum, with the teacher, the daily supervising, I cannot do it,” Aurelian-Wilson said.
Previously to moving to Portland, the entrepreneur lived in St. Croix in the U.S. Virgin Islands.
However, when the devastating 2010 earthquake struck Haiti, where many of Aurélien-Wilson’s friends and family still lived, she took a plane over there the next day.
She helped set up a camp in her sister’s backyard to facilitate emergency medical attention with 30 volunteers.
“We were right there where people couldn’t reach the bigger hospital, the bigger care and we were trying our best,” Aurélien-Wilson recalled.
She says in the future for her business she wants to produce more flavors for her beverage line and become a Farm to School food provider for public schools in Oregon.
“Amazingly, not only Caribbean people like the food, I find people that from many other sides of the world, when they taste it, they tell me it reminds me of their home food, their mom’s food,” Aurélien-Wilson said.
Carnival in violence-wracked Haiti: good business or bad taste?
Port-au-Prince (AFP) - Haiti is gearing up for its annual Carnival celebration, but the Mardi Gras festivities are controversial in a country struggling with gang violence, kidnappings and political unrest.
Some say the money generated by the colorful parades is much needed in the impoverished Caribbean nation. Others believe the partying is wildly misplaced and in poor taste.
"How can anyone think about going to Carnival and dancing without being able to get home safely, with the risk that you could be killed, kidnapped or shot at?" said one official who asked not to be named.
The official was standing on the main square in the capital Port-au-Prince where the annual parade usually takes place -- amid the charred ruins of the grandstands that went up in flames this week.
Since the start of the year, Haiti has seen an uptick in kidnappings for ransom, against the backdrop of constant gang violence in poor urban areas.
In the face of the crime wave, police in Port-au-Prince protested Monday, demanding better working conditions and the right to unionize.
At the end of that demonstration, the parade grandstands were set alight.
"An officer just starting out makes 19,000 gourdes a month," or about $180, said one cop taking part in a fresh protest on Wednesday.
Dressed in civilian clothes, but carrying his service weapon and wearing a mask, the officer said he had not been able to pay his daughter's school fees for five months.
- Not just a party -
Despite the destruction of the parade stands and several vehicles, and amid calls for Carnival to be cancelled for the second year in a row, Prime Minister Jean-Michel Lapin said the festivities would go ahead on schedule -- and along the usual route.
In a street adjacent to the central Champ de Mars, dance instructors observe young girls rehearsing their parade routines.
Like most everyone in Port-au-Prince, Pierre Kerense is stressed out by the tense atmosphere in the city caused by the seemingly endless violence and crime.
But the 45-year-old choreographer says that the three-day Carnival ending on Mardi Gras is more than just a party.
"This is also business -- many people depend on Carnival every year to pay their rent and their children's school fees," he said.
Carnival is the most intense period each year for the country's seamstresses and tailors.
The workshop of Arnelle Laguerre is buzzing with activity -- fabric is cut, feathers are attached and sequins are sewn into costumes by hand.
"In the days leading up to Carnival, we work flat out, with lots of extra people -- I can sometimes have 40 people working by day and others who come to take the night shift," says Laguerre, who has worked on costumes for the festival for 20 years.
- Deadly protests in 2019 -
In February last year, at least seven people were killed in violent incidents as protesters demanded the resignation of President Jovenel Moise and an improvement in their standard of living.
The upheaval prompted the government to cancel Carnival -- a bitter pill to swallow for all of the professionals who depend on the festivities to make ends meet.
"We had started to do the work, and to spend money," recalls Laguerre, who stocks up several months before Carnival in anticipation of the costume orders she usually gets.
"We still had to pay (the workers)."
Given the steep lending rates at Haiti's banks, many artisans rely on informal loans, which can threaten the stability of their small businesses if things go sour -- and their ability to keep workers on the payroll.
Surrounded by piles of half-made costumes, Laguerre prefers not to do the math on how much she has laid out this year.
"Power in the neighborhood just went out. We have to turn on the generator. All that adds to the costs," says the 58-year-old.
In her studio, everyone knows how many sewing machines can be plugged in at the same time without blowing the power.
Every day, the electricity cuts only magnify the stress and fear among the residents of Port-au-Prince, who flee the streets of the capital when night falls to avoid being the next kidnapping victim.
Krewe Du Kanaval Honors The Haitian Roots Of New Orleans
It's Mardi Gras season and in North America, no celebration is more famous than the one put on by the people of New Orleans. For two weeks, local groups called Krewes organize balls, parades and dance parties. Colorful plastic beads are everywhere.
A few years ago, a new krewe sprung up with the aim of celebrating the Haitian roots that run deep through the city's cultural identity. Krewe Du Kanaval was co-founded by Win Butler and Régine Chassagne, best known as the husband-and-wife duo who front the Grammy award-winning rock band, Arcade Fire. These days, the Canadian musicians are residents of New Orleans and good friends with Ben Jaffe of the storied Preservation Hall Jazz Band.
Butler says the idea to start the Krewe stemmed from a trip he took with Jaffe to Haiti. It was Jaffe's first time in the country.
"I remember when we first got to the central plateau [of Haiti]," Butler said. "There was a brass band that played for us when we got there. Ben's almost crying. It sounded like if you got in a time machine and went to New Orleans — pre-swing, pre-jazz New Orleans — and it's pretty powerful."
And it wasn't just the music: the architecture, the food and the people reminded Jaffe of home.
Thousands of Haitians landed in Louisiana in the early 19th century after fleeing their home country's revolution. By 1809, more than 10,000 Haitians had arrived in New Orleans, doubling the population of the city.
Along with the Haitian people came their culture, establishing a deep relationship between the two places. Many locals refer to New Orleans as the northernmost Caribbean city. Celebrating this connection was the guiding principle for Butler, Chassagne and Jaffe when they founded Krewe du Kanaval in 2017.
"That was sort of the idea," says Butler. "What if we did this thing that everyone wants to do anyway, for a party? And we actually did something good with it. [We're] just paying tribute to the root of it."
Krewe Du Kanaval founders Ben Jaffe, Regine Chassagne and Win Butler.Kanaval/Courtesy of the artist
For Chassagne, the connections are also personal. Her parents are native Haitians who fled the country in the 1960s during the 13-year rule of dictator Francois "Papa Doc" Duvalier. Her family first landed in the US, but eventually ended up in Montreal, where Chassagne grew up. And it wasn't until 2008, when she was in her 30s, that she visited Haiti for the first time.
But Chassagne says she inherited the Haitian culture through her parents.
"You just absorb it. You absorb the inflections, you absorb the humor, certain reactions to certain events," she says. It had always felt like an insular experience to her, but she says, "When I went to Haiti, I really realized this is why! This is all why."
Chassange has been publicly thinking about her relationship to her parents' home country at least since 2004; the first Arcade Fire album, Funeral, came out that year and included the semi-autobiographical song, "Haiti."
"And then when we realized that we were going to starting selling out venues," says Chassagne, "I was like, okay, maybe I will not work at the bakery anymore. Then I started to think about how to raise money, and how to be efficient in the gifts that I've been given and how to make them useful."
The answer came to her in 2010, when Chassagne co-founded Kanpe, a foundation that supports an array of health education and agriculture programs in Haiti. The Krewe Du Kanaval celebrations raise funds for the foundation.
The inaugural appearance of Krewe du Kanaval in February 2018.Erika Goldring/Courtesy of the artist
Paul Beaubrun, a Haitian singer-songwriter based in New York and a member of Krewe du Kanaval, says Carnival is like therapy for Haitians.
"You scream. Some people you curse, if you want, because you have to let your frustrations out," Beaubrun says. "So it's a very important tradition for us. And at the same time, it's that time where you almost begin your year. We call that "N'ap boule" — that means you're burning everything and then you start anew. So it's a very important tradition for Haitians and it's a lot of fun, you know, so it's like a win-win."
Beaubrun says at Carnival in Haiti, music hits you from all directions. It's at the center of the celebrations.
"There's this part where you put a band on the float and people are dancing, singing too, and then they have stands. And then it's like millions of people everywhere! Dancing, screaming ... so many things happening!"
Like Butler and Chassagne, Beaubrun says you can just feel the connections between the music of Haiti and New Orleans. And he should know: Beaubrun is a member of the prominent Haitian fusion band, Boukman Eksperyans, which rose to fame playing Carnival in Haiti in the early 1990s. The group brought their music to the Krewe Du Kanaval ball last year.
"It's just to that exchange between New Orleans and Haiti," Beaubrun says, "to really show that similarity, the influences. That's what Krewe Du Kanaval is. We just bring it together."
Butler says the theme of the Krewe Du Kanaval parade this year is "Merci Haiti" — simply, "thank you, Haiti."
"We're just trying to pay respect to all that we have [been] grateful for — that Haiti has contributed — and just to give back. I think that's the idea of the whole thing," he says.
This year's Krewe Du Kanaval features Arcade Fire, the Preservation Hall Jazz Band, DJ Michael Brun, Jillionaire, Pierre Kwenders and Lakou Mizik. The parade, ball and party all go down this weekend.
Win Butler at Krewe Du Kanaval.Courtesy of the artist
Haitian-inspired musical revival 'Once on This Island' comes to the Twin Cities
The 2018 Tony-winning musical is at the Ordway through Feb. 9.
A musical inspired by the islands of the Caribbean is now playing at the Ordway in St. Paul.
"Once on This Island" is tale of Ti Moune, a fearless peasant girl in search of her place in the world, who's ready to risk it all for love. Based on the 1985 book, “My Love, My Love,” by Rosa Guy, it is a retelling of Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Little Mermaid.
The show debuted on Broadway in 1990, and won a Tony Award in 2018 for Best Revival of a Musical. The revival was inspired by a trip to Haiti by the director and scenic designer, who witnessed the people of Haiti dealing with the aftermath of the 2010 earthquake and Hurricane Matthew in 2018.
The show includes a few unique features: materials used in set design and costumes are recycled from everyday objects, inspired by the ways the Haitian people survived and thrived in the wake of natural disasters. Also unique for this show: some audience members are invited to sit on stage during the performance, where sand and water is set up in a circle, to help provide an immersive experience.
This is the first time time this touring production of "Once on This Island" has appeared in the Twin Cities.
Performances continue at the Ordway through Sunday, Feb. 9. Ticket details can be found on the Ordway website, or by calling the box office at 651-224-4222.