Haiti
The continents fight their war of dominance; Haiti shatter--- then Chile. Then a blown deadline looms, far more catastrophic than any mere catastrophe. Absurd. A Haitian sarong hangs from my wardrobe; these fantastic stylized man-monsters, iguana(dons?), emus, herons, swordfish, parade in a cascade of black ink on ecru cotton. In my parents' home, so much art from Haiti; in the dining room, this intensely blue zigzag of river, lightninglike, workers in the fields, red black white orange... In my dad's study, Voodoo masks: two-horned, three-horned, jutting out of the stucco'd wall between the cedar bookshelves. Spot-lighting. Like a stage set.
I understand the movements, understand the speaking of the art, understand the flangings of ideology: not mine. But still, the voodoo is there in the study. I drank the Barbancourt there.
And I want to help in Haiti. Would I be of any use, not knowing Creole or French? I want to help in Haiti.
I understand the movements, understand the speaking of the art, understand the flangings of ideology: not mine. But still, the voodoo is there in the study. I drank the Barbancourt there.
And I want to help in Haiti. Would I be of any use, not knowing Creole or French? I want to help in Haiti.