Voodoo Inspired – The Crossroads and The Cross

December 13, 2012

As mentioned in the previous blog, most Haitians, even though they are Catholic, hold their voodoo-based beliefs right alongside, practicing and observing

both religious traditions. The origins of this seemingly odd pairing can be traced back to colonial times when enslaved West Africans were shipped along with their religious beliefs to what was then Saint Domingue, today known as Haiti.  The French colonial slaveholders forbade the  observance of any religion but Catholicism and severly punished those who did otherwise. As a way of getting around the whip, the slaves developed a system of association of their own spiritual figures such as the Great God “Bondye” and the Loa, with those of the Catholic God and the Saints.  They also syncretized symbols, the most evident being that of the Veve, or Crossroads, and The Cross.

Both the Veve and Cross represent points of transition.  In the Catholic tradition, The Cross is the place where Jesus leaves the world of Man and enters into eternal life.  Conversely, the Veve is the point at which the Loa spirits enter the world of Man.  The drawing of a Veve in a Voodoo ceremony is an invitation for the spirits, one or more, to join the physical world and bestow health, strength, love, etc. to the supplicants in attendance. The Veves for each Loa vary, but all have a central cross figure included in their designs. If more

than one Loa is invited, the Veves connect at their trancepts.

In the beginning of any Voodoo ceremony, the Veve of Papa Legba is drawn. Papa Legba is regarded as the life giver, transferring the power of Bondye to the physical world and all who reside there. Papa Legba is

associated with St. Peter, holder of the keys to the gates of Heaven. In Voodoo, he is  the gatekeeper of the spirit world where the Loa reside, and he must be invoked to bring any of the other Loa to the physical world. After his Veve is drawn (with sand, cornmeal, ground up eggshell or ash) other Loa Veves are drawn to invite them to the ceremony. With their arrival, their powers can be used by the priests, each according to the individual attributes of the Loa.

With the Veves in place, the ritual begins. Chanting, singing, drumming

and dancing beckon the Loa down from the cosmos.

Additionally, food, drinks, and gifts particularly pleasing to the individual Loa are placed on the Veve as offerings  in exchange for service. At the end of the ceremony, when the Loa have

completed their earthly tasks,  they are released with seven repetitions of the following benediction:  “I thank you Loa for your services and let you go.  Be blessed.” At that point, offerings which have been placed on the Veves are removed and the lovely, elaborate Veves are destroyed.

Though the form of The Cross and The Crossroads are essesntially the same, their symbolism dovetails, and their uses differ entirely within Catholic and Voodoo traditions. Yet by gaining an understanding of Voodoo and the history of it’s development in the New World, it is not impossible to see how both have come to be important, respected, and concerently revered –  in Haiti and beyond.

 

Second in the series, “Voodoo Inspired”

Contributed By Linda of Beyond Borders/Its Cactus

Voodoo Inspired

December 6, 2012

You may have noticed on our “menu” of designs that we’ve recently added a “Voodoo Inspired” category. We are SO EXCITED to make this addition because the pieces it contains so wonderfully depict the essence of Haiti – its untamed, unchained, exuberant, and mysterious soul. These sculptures reveal the nature of Voodoo, and remove some of the clouds of our understanding.

There is a saying that Haiti is 70 per cent Catholic, 30 per cent Protestant, and 100 per cent Voodoo.  That may be a stretch of mathematical logic but it illustrates the point that the vast majority of Haitians – regardless of religious affiliation – hold at least some Voodoo beliefs. This varies with the individual, of course, from those holding nominal superstitions and belief in old wives’ tales with Voodoo roots, to full-scale worship and practice by priests and priestesses.

But what IS Voodoo, exactly?  It has been defined as, “…a patchwork of beliefs based on animism and spirit worship brought from the African continent by plantation slaves more than two centuries ago. Voodoo is loosely structured and functions along oral traditions and improvisation, rather than by a prescribed set of norms and values.” This description, however, smacks of being shallow and rather discounts Voodoo as an actual religion.  The fact that Voodoo has no formally written history, code of ethics and rules of practice – such as the Bible, the Torah, or the Koran – should not lead one to the conclusion that it is entirely random and therefore invalid. It does, however make it trickier to convey, though I am about try.

Caution thrown aside then, the best place for me to start is with God, who in Voodoo is referred to as “Bondye” or “Papa Bon Dye” meaning “Good God.”  He is not unlike the God of Judeo-Christian tradition in that he is the Creator and he is One. Loa are spirits, which interact with the living.  There are all kinds of Loa, representing good, evil, health, well-being, and virtually every aspect of life and living including that in the animal kingdom.  During

the colonial era, French Catholics forbade native African religious practices so slaves secretly syncretized their Loa with Catholic saints to continue their traditional worship. Thus, virtually all Loa have saint associations, examples being Damballa with St. Patrick, Erzulie with the Virgin Mary, the Marassa Twins with Sts. Cosmas and Damien, and so on. The Loa are invoked in ceremonies and invited with drums, dancing and singing.  During the ceremony, one or more Loa may be called upon to temporarily inhabit the physical bodies of the participants.   Therefore, when one observes a representation of man with a fish body and bird wings, it is the representation of Loa inhabitation of the body.

Within Voodoo, there are two types, Rada and Petro.  Rada is the Voodoo of health, happiness and peace while Petro, which gets all the hype, is the black magic Voodoo of death curses and zombies.  By scholarly estimates, 95 percent of all voodoo practiced is of the Rada type.  Curiously, there is no actual “Devil” in Voodoo, though aggression and anger are represented in both Rada and Petro by what most of us would recognize as a devil form.

With all of that in mind, have a look at our new “Voodoo Inspired” section. Get a feel for the blending of spirits and the life forces that Voodoo conjures. Sense the creative minds that imagine each piece.  You don’t have to change your world view, just take a peek from a different perspective.  You might be amazed.

 

First in a series regarding Haitian Voodoo

Contributed by Linda for It’s Cactus/Beyond Borders

Christmas in Haiti

November 29, 2012

 

With fireworks, favorite foods, and gift-giving, Christmas – or Nwel in Creole – is a great celebration in Haiti.  Preparations begin several days ahead of December 25^th.  Decorating tends to be limited, but often includes a tropical Christmas trees which are harvested in the mountains and hauled down to be sold in the markets. Whether destined for a church or prosperous private home, the whole tree is festively trimmed with lights and ornaments while in more humble dwellings, only branches are used.

Music is a big part of the Haitian Christmas tradition.  There are live performances in the cities as well as television shows which feature celebrities of every stripe singing and dancing to familiar holiday tunes.  (Click here for a sample selection.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5TFeHnxZwTQ  If you look carefully, you can see a Three Kings

sculpture in the background!) The tunes have a clear

Caribbean beat with steel drums, bongos, marimbas, and horns as featured instruments.

On Christmas Eve, friends and families gather for merry-making.  A special meal is prepared that may include turkey,

ham, and/or shrimp, along with pate,

rice, beans and fried plantains.  Pineapple upside down cake is often the dessert of choice, and anisette is poured as liquid accompaniment.  Because Haiti is largely a Catholic country, Midnight Mass is very well attended, though it is not

unusual for serious partying to commence soon after the last “amen” and continue on through the night. This is also the time for gifts to be exchanged if the family can afford to do so.  Fireworks, usually homemade, light the dark Caribbean skies and there is dancing and singing in clubs and in the streets.

Children from even the most humble homes fill their shoes with straw and set them either by the tree, or out by the front door in anticipation of the arrival of Santa Claus, or as he is known in Haiti, “Tonton Nwel”. Late on Christmas Eve, Santa slips in undetected to give gifts great and small and vanish again without a trace. In Haiti, as around the world, the magic of Christmas lives.

Contributed by Linda for Beyond Borders/It’s Cactus

Audubon and His Birds – The Haitian Connection

November 24, 2012

While in Haiti with Casey a few weeks ago, she and I looked for new designs to introduce at the winter wholesale and retail shows.  Particularly, we were interested in garden and springtime pieces and did we ever find them! Flowers, trees, bees and butterflies, farmers in their fields, trees budding with fruit, and birds.   Oh the birds!  Nesting, winging, swooping, soaring, lovebirds, song birds, flamingos, swans, and more. An endless avian menagerie in the workshops of Croix-des-Bouquet.

Real-live flesh and feather birds are having quite the struggle for survival, given the heavy toll that deforestation has taken on their habitats.  Yet this is the land where John James Audubon, the great American ornithologist, naturalist, and painter was born.

Yes, you read that right.  John James Audubon, born in Les Cayes, in what was then the French colony of Saint-Domingue on April 26, 1785.  And though not all of the story is clear, it is intriguing, to say the least.  Of his own origins, Audubon wrote, “The precise period of my birth is yet an enigma to me.” There is considerable weight to the theory that it was not so much an enigma to him as it was a hesitation to disclose, what with legitimacy and claims to inheritance hanging in the balance.  The family as a whole was evasive on the subject. Long after he was gone, his own granddaughter wrote that Audubon was, in her belief, possessed of royal Bourbon characteristics and, “in fact, the Dauphine of France, child of the martyred Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette who mysteriously disappeared during the French Revolution.” He was also said to have been born in Louisiana, son of a French Naval officer and creole mother, who took ill on a Mississippi River flatboat moored at Nine Mile Point and died in childbirth. The city of New Orleans was only too happy to claim him as their native son and erected a bronze statue of him to emphasize the point.

It was not until 1917, a full 66 years after Audubon’s death that legal documents were brought forth by Audubon biographer, Francis Hobart Herrick.  These documents established that Audubon was born the son of the swash-buckling Captain Jean Audubon – a sometime gentleman planter and sometime privateer in the service of the French navy – and his creole mistress, Jeanne Rabine in their home in Les Cayes, Saint-Domingue. At birth, he was given the name Jean Rabine. His mother died a few months later under unclear circumstances and Jean went to live with another of Captain Audubon’s island mistresses and his half-sister, Muget Bouffard.  At the age of four, Captain Audubon became wary of the clouds of slave unrest gathering over Saint Domingue and fled with his two young children to his French homeland and legal wife of seven years.  Madame Audubon greeted the three with love and grace at the family estate near Nantes, France and raised the children as her own henceforward. When Jean Rabine was eight years old, his parents sought to secure his legitimacy and rightful inheritance by adopting him and changing his name to Jean Jacques Forgere Audubon.  Thereby, his status as a bastard child of Haitian origins were buried and remained so for the rest of his life.

From there, Jean Audubon’s story becomes well known, though

Audubon himself was prone to embellishment.  He

claims to have been a student of art under the tutelage of court portraitist, Jacques Louis David, where he refined his artistic eye.  However, bemoaning the “boring nature” of his subject matter, that being still-lifes and backgrounds, he left David’s atelier after a few months.  In 1789, with his father’s encouragement and blessings, Audubon sailed for the United States to avoid conscription in Napoleon’s army.  After a few fits and starts, the handsome French dandy, Jean Jacques Audubon became John James Audubon, American woodsman, distinguished naturalist, and internationally acclaimed artist.  His magnum opus, “Birds of America” to this day remains a landmark work of art and ornithology.

Okay.  So maybe this is more information about Audubon and birds than you were looking for in one sitting.  But it could win you a round in Trivial Pursuit.  Enjoy your victory, with my compliments!

Contributed by Linda for Beyond Borders/It’s Cactus

Resurrection and Reforestation

November 14, 2012

As the eastern seaboard of the United States begins to dig itself out of the mess that Hurricane Sandy left in her wake, the work ahead seems staggering.  The muck and sludge is almost unfathomable. The destruction and number of lives lost are beyond heartbreaking. How do you clean up?  Where do you even start?

Those same questions apply in Haiti as well, for it too is recovering from its own battle against Sandy’s wrath. The Caribbean islands are besieged regularly during hurricane season, which runs roughly from June through November. The reality there is that 6-8 hurricanes will develop annually in the Tropical Atlantic Basin, though some years are better than that and some are worse. 2010 saw a “bumper crop” with 11 named hurricanes.  What makes Haiti so vulnerable to massive destruction in violent weather is its lack of natural tree cover, which exacerbates water run-off and mudslides and results in tremendous erosion, soil degradation, and watershed destruction in addition to loss of property and life.

In fact, only two percent of Haiti’s original forests remain intact.  Deforestation has a long and sordid history on the island of Hispanola, dating back to colonial times.  With the arrival of European colonists, land was cleared of trees so that plantations could be established.  Not only that, valuable tropical woods were harvested with reckless abandon and sold to eager markets abroad. After the colonial period, Haiti suffered from its isolation, and slash-and burn subsistence agriculture began taking its toll.

Now in the 21st century, the culprit is an insatiable need for household cooking fuel.  Trees double as a source of fuel and cash for families who not only use the wood to cook with but also sell it as charcoal in energy-starved Port-au-Prince. (Charcoal is made by burning wood and other carbon-rich substances in an oxygen-proof furnace.) Over time, according to Newsweek and The Daily Beast, the charcoal trade has grown to account for 20 percent of the rural economy and 80 percent of the country’s energy supply. Haitians currently burn an estimated 30 million trees’ worth of charcoal annually.

The barren landscape tells the story of 36 million tons of topsoil being eroded by wind and rain each year, silting lakes and waterways and carrying away nutrients upon which agriculture depends.  Meager drainage systems that do exist suffer extensive damage during storms and clean water sources are compromised, elevating the danger of water-borne disease, cholera being a primary threat.

As if that isn’t alarming enough, results of a recent geological study conducted at the University of Miami indicated that so much of Haiti’s mountainsides have eroded due to deforestation that it may have actually weakened the earth’s crust and contributed to the severity of the 2010 earthquake. The researchers suggest that landslides and heavy rains have carried so much eroded material downstream over time that the surface load of the crust was greatly diminished.  Fractures in Earth’s bedrock from the movement of tectonic plates, known as faults, build up stress as they attempt to slide past each other, periodically releasing the stress in the form of an earthquake. With critically reduced load-bearing capability in the denuded mountains of Haiti, the stage was set for that catastrophe.

Fortunately, there is hope on the horizon.  Solar and hydropower, as well as biofuels, have all been used in Haiti with encouraging results and their potentials can be further pressed .  Until these renewable energy sources can be maximized, imports of subsidized propane from Dominican Republic can be increased.  In combination, these alternatives can eradicate the need to harvest trees for charcoal produced-energy. There have been victories outside of Haiti, too which can be drawn upon and adapted.  In Ethiopia, it was political will that turned the tide of environmental degradation, in Uganda, it was a civil movement.  Money is, of course, a vital component, but donors are willing to line up behind success. Clearly, it will take popular action, governmental resolve, and international support to restore Haiti’s forests.  As one environmental aid worker observed, “Haiti’s resurrection begins here.”

Contributed by Linda for It’s Cactus/Beyond Borders

Accuracy, Accuracy, Accuracy!

November 6, 2012

Back in my college days, when I was a freshman student of journalism, I was told the story of publishing mogul Joseph Pulitzer, who scrawled the words

“Accuracy, Accuracy, Accuracy!” on the newsroom wall as an emphatic exhortation to his writing staff to get the story right.  Not everything from college sticks with me, heaven knows, but that did.  And while I may not always get the straight facts rightfully expressed, as God and Joseph Pulitzer are my witnesses, I do try.

So imagine my trepidation in going to print with Haitian names.  Haitian names befuddle me like little else, and here’s why:  The order. Many Haitians write their names and refer to each other in a manner to which I, as an English speaker, am accustomed.  Julio Balan , one of the artists we have worked with since the beginning, goes by his first name and his last name in that order.  Simple. But more commonly, Haitians will write their names beginning with the family name first, following with the given name, and then refer to each other the other way around.  Thus, the artist whose friends call him “Evenson Thenor” signs his work as “Thenor Evenson. To be accurate, then, should I write it in the order that my English-speaking audience will expect it, or according to the customary use of Haitian Kreyol ?  The mind boggles.

Shall I tell you about Remy Jn Eugene?  That’s how he signs his work, “Jn” being an abbreviation for “Jean.”  But which one is the first name?  “Remy,” “Jean,” or “Eugene”? I could only guess and with a one out of three chance, I did not like my odds.

I got my first clue when I got wind that he has a brother, Remy Jean Eddy. “Ah HA!” I thought, “I got it,” and I started writing their names Eugene Jean Remy and Eddy Jean Remy.  Well, I was closer, but not right.  Their first names are both Jean, they go by Eugene and Eddy respectively, and Remy is the family name.  Are you still with me?

Then, there is Eduoard Dieudonne.  Dieudonne is his family name and I figured that out pretty

quickly.  But I’ve seen his given name signed both as “Eduoard” and “Edward.”  To complicate matters further, the fellow I asked to help me with Eduoard’s biographical information sent me an email in which he spelled it, “Edoward.”

Was that a typo??? Well no, came the reply.  He writes it that way too.  But he says to go with “Edward.”

Sigh.

With all due respect to Mr. Pulitzer then, and with great reverence for his demand for accuracy, I think I’ll beg forbearance and go with Shakespeare this time.  “What’s in a name?”  That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet.” In the final analysis, the work of our artists is still wonderfully original and beautifully crafted, no matter how their names are written.

Reading Tee-Shirts

October 31, 2012

Well into our third day in Haiti, while I was supposed to be looking for new product for the winter wholesale and retail show season, I will admit, I got distracted.  It’s not that the art wasn’t great or that I wasn’t “into it,” but by late in the afternoon, my attention had started to drift.  Instead of looking at metal sculpture, I was looking at clothing.  Reading tee-shirts, in fact, and it was becoming good sport.  I saw a Green Bay Packers shirt with a #4 on it – an old one, clearly.  Brett Favre hasn’t played for them in 4 years now.  But it’s a goodie, and hey, that’s my team!  Go Pack Go!  And I saw a Carolina Panthers jersey.  Ooooh, not so much.  But it wasn’t ‘til I noticed a tee-shirt reading “Nelson Family Reunion 2002, Lake of the Ozarks, MO” that I wondered, “How did he end up with THAT?”

Of course the answer lies in the practice of US charitable organizations sending bales and bales of clothing – to the tune of 14.5 million tons annually – to the Third World.  According to www.planetaid.org  only 20% of all clothing donated in the United States is actually sold in the United States to be worn. Five percent ends up in a landfill, and the rest is sold to wholesalers; 45% is repurposed (as cloth wipes, carpet backing, insulation, etc.) and 30% goes to market in developing countries. World Vision, for example, accepts 100,000 sweatshirts, tee-shirts and hats every year from the NFL, which routinely anticipates BOTH teams as the eventual winner of the Super Bowl and prints accordingly.  The items that end up proclaiming the losing team as Super Bowl Champions go straight to the African continent.

So is that a good thing?  Well, after due consideration, and a fair amount of research, I can tell you plainly that I don’t really know.  There is well documented evidence that suggests that the overwhelming volume of textile donations from the Developed World, meaning the US, Europe, Australia, and parts of Asia, to the Third World is exceedingly detrimental to domestic textile and garment industries in the receiving countries.  Case in point: A 2008 study done by Garth Frazer of the University of Toronto revealed that wealthy countries shipping tons of used clothing caused a 40 percent decline in domestic African clothing production and a 50 percent decline in employment between 1981 and 2000.  The availability of free clothes from America and Europe undercut local markets and closed businesses. According to The Nation, between 1992 and 2006, 543,000 textile workers in Nigeria alone lost their jobs.

Furthermore, there are costs associated with this type of charitable giving.  Again using World Vision as an example, it has been reported by Aid Watch that that organization spends 58 cents per shirt on shipping, warehousing, and distribution. This is well within the range of what a secondhand shirt costs in a developing country. The recommended alternative in each of these reports is to send money instead of clothing to meet immediate need. Goods purchased locally supports local producers and bolsters local markets.  Additionally, it eliminates most shipping and transportation costs, which enables the donated dollar to go farther, i.e. it will buy more shirts and clothe more people.  Local purchases lead to increased employment and a strengthened economy, ideally to the point where the needy aren’t needy anymore.

I tried and tried to find out how this plays out in Haiti.  Haiti does, in fact, have a garment industry.  Coincidentally, Bill and Hilary Clinton were in Haiti at about the same time we were (No, we didn’t get together for cocktails, but we’ll try to coordinate on the next visit!) to celebrate the opening of a new industrial park at Caracol, which includes a clothing piecework center that will potentially employ 65,000 people.  An actual mill is slated for later development at this same site. Currently, however, this industry is piecework only.  Workers receive pre-dyed, pre-cut tee-shirt “pieces” which they sew together for direct shipment to foreign markets, where they are sold by Walmart, Target and The Gap, among others. So it seems to me that, as of now, the importation of used clothing is not adversely affecting local production because the local production is for overseas markets anyway.

There is, however, a huge trade in Haiti that has been built around imported second-hand clothing.  In fact, there is a Kreyol word for it:  “Pepe.”  According to Joanne McNeil’s blog article on reason.com, “It’s all pepe, all the time.”  Pepe is sold on virtually every street corner in Haiti, yet it isn’t a free-for-all. Vendors purchase goods by the bale for resale in ports such as Miragoane, where shipments are unloaded virtually every day. Often the dealers have an agreement with an American charity shop, which sorts the items before making the sale. Others rely on relatives and friends in the United States, who return to Haiti several times a year to make deliveries.  Vendors typically specialize in certain kinds of goods—just soccer jerseys, just sneakers, just bikinis – but their total impact is such that 80% of all clothing bought and sold in Haiti is pepe. (Watch a trailer for a film on this subject here:  http://secondhandfilm.com/project.html )

Well, that’s nothing, if not resourceful, in my book.  It goes right along with the whole idea of recycling, reducing, and reusing.  Admittedly, it’s not ideal.  I’d like for them to have crisp, brand-new clothing, and tee-shirts that shout support for their own football (soccer) teams.  But it is a legitimate trade, and it’s flourishing.  It meets a need.  And how bad is that?

A Trip to Haiti

October 24, 2012

Though I can’t say I’ve been anything close to EVERYWHERE, I am fairly well travelled.  Travel for me is almost like breathing – I need to do it.  Every issue of National Geographic, every vacation brochure in the mail, every song on the radio with an exotic beat compels me to think about my next trip.  I’ve lived in eight different states and four different countries; I have been fortunate to visit many more.  Still, for all of my presumed “worldliness” there is nothing quite like Haiti.

In fact, I just returned from a five-day foray less than 48 hours ago.  My mind still reels with sensory overload.  Haiti is a place you feel on your skin, dust and grit and grime and sweat, but also balmy mountain air, soft rains, and the caressing warmth of  morning sunshine.  It’s noisy and chaotic and damned uncomfortable one minute and beautiful in its simplicity the next.  It’s sexual violence in tent cities and open-air churches packed with the faithful, their voices raised in hymns of hope and praise.  It’s gorgeous wildflowers blooming on the side of the road and a frog coming out of the bathtub faucet.  To be honest, this is my third trip, and it’s still a pretty good challenge just to process it all.

Do I like going there?  Well, yes and no.  Reading about the poverty and desperation is one thing.   Seeing dirty, barefoot little kids with lice in their hair plinking rocks in the open sewer running in front of their house because they’ve got nothing else to play with is something else again. But then, you enter the shop doorway of one of our artists and you get a radiant smile and a great big hug and a whiff of Palmolive soap and find a tall cool bottle of Coca-Cola thrust in your hand before you can say, “Jack Robinson.” And then they bring out amazing pieces of art.  Their latest creations, wrought with such delicacy and brilliant craftsmanship and you can’t help wondering, “Where does this all come from?”

Where does it all come from?  The smile in the face of hardship, the cool soft drink in the house with no refrigerator and the fantastic art in the hard-scrabble village.  It’s a pretty good question – one that overrides aversion, inconvenience and discomfort.  I want to know where that goodness and joy and strength of human spirit comes from.  In Haiti, I feel like I’m close to the answer.  And that will keep me gladly coming back.

Skeletons and Black Licorice

October 5, 2012

October is upon us and the change of season is in evidence.

Leaves are turnining brilliant shades of red and orange and gold and perhaps you’ve had a glistening of frost as the morning sun has risen.  Change appears  in the markets, too as the fresh produce now includes squash, pumpkins and other gourds in a fantastic palette, as well as apples, pears, and delicious newly pressed ciders.  In our homes, we take down trimmings in summer hues and exchange them for those with a harvest theme, Halloween, or Day of the Dead.

Having grown up in the Midwest, harvest decorating came rather naturally to me, as did Halloween.  Day of the Dead took a little warming up to.  And a no small amount of instruction.  In fact, I thought ALL of those skeletons were a little creepy, if not downright macabre.  I didn’t understand the holiday as a form of remembrance and reflection, a time of happy memories of those friends and family who are no longer with us.  I didn’t get that in many places around the world, it is a time dedicated to going to cemeteries, tidying up the gravesites, freshening up the flower arrangements, having a picnic with special foods and sharing stories about loved ones who have “gone before.” That it’s actually much more like Memorial Day than a festival of witches and goblins for trick-or-treaters. (For a more detailed description, visit  http://www.celebrate-day-of-the-dead.com/)

The first time I took the plunge and decided to “go” Day of the Dead, I did so with some trepidation.  My father-in-law had passed away early in the summer and my mother-in-law, who was still very raw from the pain of loss, was visiting us for a couple of weeks.  I quietly started getting out old family photos and arranged some flowers in vases. I took the only three skeletons I had out and put together a shrine to my husband’s and my grandparents, explaining the Day of the Dead traditions as I understood them to my mother-in-law as I went along.  Then I turned to her and said, “How would you feel about putting one together for Pops?”  She thought a moment and said slowly, “I think that might be kind of nice.”  Pleased, I told her that I had to get off to work, but suggested that maybe she could think about what she might like to include while I was out.  The two of us could work on it together when I got home.

Imagine my surprised delight when I returned several hours later and my mother-in-law was at the door, waiting for me.  “I hope you don’t mind,” she said, pulling me inside, “but I did a little hunting and gathering around the house and kind of went ahead while you were out.”   She then proceeded to show me the shrine she had created for Pops in the dining room.  It was well thought out – tender, sentimental, very representative of the things that he loved in life, and the things we loved about him. There were several photos, a pair of candlesticks, a beer stein from Germany, a toy airplane, his old pilot’s license, a Hawaiian lei, and a Green Bay Packer bobble-head doll.  We went out and bought a package of black licorice, arranged some more fresh flowers, and remembered.  It was lovely.

Now, several years later, I continue the tradition we started.  I change a few things here and there, but I always enjoy the process.  This week, the skeletons are coming out – there are a few more of them now.  The framed picture of Grandpa and Grandma will emerge from the bedroom, the table scarf will do some time on the ironing board, and I realize as I watch the leaves drifting from the treetops down past the back window, it’s time to get Pops a new bag of licorice.

Sweet Deal

October 1, 2012

Browsing through our one-of-a-kinds, I stopped and studied this sculpture of a farmer wheeling his recently harvested sugar cane to market.  It reminded me of a scene I had observed and photographed along the roadway in Port-au Prince; a young man with his wheel-barrow load of cane, which he was carefully peeling for immediate purchase and consumption for passers-by.

Haiti was, at one time, a global leader in sugar production.  Columbus introduced sugar cane on his second voyage to Hispanola and the under the French, production skyrocketed within their plantation system until it was rivaled only by Brazil in tonnage exported to European markets. Gradually, however, international trade policy, irrigation degradation, soil depletion, and other factors conspired to diminish the bounty.  In 1976, Haiti finally failed to be even self-sufficient in terms of meeting its domestic demand for sugar, and it has never recovered.

In June 2011, Regine Barjon of BioTek Solutions/BioTek Haiti, SA reported to the United States Senate that Haiti had been reduced to producing only 2 percent of its total annual sugar needs, meaning of course, that the remaining 98 percent had to be imported.  That demand alone represented 11 percent of Haiti’s total trade deficit and was contributing hugely to Haiti’s general food insecurity.  Despite that, sugar remained one of Haiti’s most important cash crops, and one with great potential for jump-starting the Haitian economy. Tillable land and labor were abundant, according to Barjon.  What was needed was funding for credit for farmers to irrigate, purchase seed, and fertilizer, as well as reform of global trading practices so that consumers in Haiti and beyond could afford competitively priced Haitian sugar.

Barjon was advocating for investment in Haiti’s private sector, to empower and enable small and medium businesses to exist and function in a manner that is sustainable, and thereby undercut aid dependency.  Specifically, what her company was bringing to the table was a proposal to rehabilitate 15,000 hectares of existing cane fields, cleaning up watersheds, and revitalizing the one remaining sugar refinery in all of Haiti, the Darbonne Sugar Mill in Leogane. Increased production in that mill alone could potentially displace 50 percent of Haiti’s sugar imports and create 32,000 jobs.  Additionally, by-products from sugar processing could be used as an energy source, with the possibility of putting out up to 20 megawatts of energy in the first 12-18 months of operation.  With that, the circle could begin to close on deforestation, soil degradation, and erosion. Barjon said that the BioTek Agro-Energy Project would be financed by the International Investment Corporation (IIC), a private arm of the Inter-American Development Bank (IADB), and Haiti’s Sogebank, with potential underwriting from the Overseas Private Investment Corporation (OPIC). She had the support of the Clinton Global Initiative and was working to get the stamp of approval from the Haitian Government to move the project forward.

That Senate hearing was over a year ago.  What happened then? In a phone conversation with Barjon, I got the update:  Haitian President Martelly gave the go-ahead and the proposal went to the Ministry of Agriculture for final approval.  It was stalled in Thomas Jacques’ ministry office ad nauseum by counter-proposals and bureaucratic red tape. On Friday, Sept 21, 2012 (Yes, less than two weeks ago!) BioTek Solutions/BioTek Haiti SA got word from the Ministry that the project got the “unofficial” green light.   As for the US Senate’s response to the hearing, it is apparently held up until the Haitian government goes official on its approval.  THEN, it will be in their power to release funding for credit and private sector investment, as well as adopt trade practices that will encourage indigenous agricultural development and ultimately foster food security in Haiti.  It could be such a sweet deal.