Articles tagged "Haitian Literature"


Detour

To Nadève At first Eléonore had been amused.  Why had she taken this detour?  A whim, a random impulse, and seemingly not such a bad one.   But she began shaking her head…...

“Agents of the Change We Want to See”: Atelier Jeudi Soir

Atelier Jeudi Soir is a group of people from different horizons (educators, managers, professionals, students) who came together on a whim of sorts and developed into a viable institution. It started a…...

From the Archives: Moving Around Me

To whom does the story of the Haitian earthquake belong? Whose is it to tell, and in what form? Haitian writer and longtime Montreal resident Dany Laferrière was in Port-au-Prince for a literary…...

Primal Needs

They arrived together, a pair of butterflies with green and yellow wings, dappled and tremulous. They landed here and there on the hibiscus blooms surrounding the pool, and the youth marveled at their…...

Season of Grief

Goudougoudougoudougoudou . . .   When the malicious brouhaha finally dozed off at dusk’s feet when in the magic of darkness ribbons of promise turned into sadness with desperation deep in our…...

Under the Rubble

We held our breath close to our bodies sorted words in a straitjacket our lives between parentheses turpentine to make hope last fear sets up a tent on our chest fog invades our minds paralyzes our limbs …...

from “At the Borders of Thirst”

Fito looked at his watch. Ten to seven, he’d be on time for his appointment. The jeep’s headlights shiftily lit up the tortured trunks of the neems bordering Route 1. Traffic was fluid and…...

Time Stretches Out and My Words Do, Too

Mid-August. The beach, for the first time since the earthquake. The water is warm, just the way I like it. I keep saying that Haiti is neither a postcard nor a nightmare. This Sunday more than ever. I’m…...

January 12, 2010

An interview scheduled with the French writer and literary festival director Michel Le Bris and Dany Laferrière, a Haitian and Canadian novelist and journalist. The noise, first of all. As if some…...

Port-au-Prince on an IV Drip

drip drop port-au-prince’s life slips away drip drop like a canoe ocean waves thrust within the sun’s flames port-au-prince disintegrates drip drop like a bad rain drip drop that refuses to…...

In All Magnitude

I give thanks to the earth, not the same, not mine—my stormy, radiant illiterate—I give thanks to the earth, not my island, that terrible girl, who learned, with her silent “S,”…...

The World is Moving Around Me

My Nephew I stepped out into the yard with my nephew. The little shacks on the other side of the ravine stood up to the earthquake. The old wall collapsed. We sit on the hood of the car. “I’m…...

from “La Belle Amour Humaine”

There are seven hours of road between the noise and the silence. Between here in the capital and Anse-à-Fôleur. I suppose it's the same where you come from, one town after another and…...

Brine, Blood, and Mother’s Milk

For the woman with bound hands, a vacant stare, and an impudent bottom, whom I glimpsed at Corail one morning during the season of storms I’ve turned my skin inside out, but I can still feel the…...

November 2011


Heading South

At the age of twelve I realized that I could do whatever I wanted with women. That's just the way it is. I can't do anything about it. My sister's friends are always making eyes at me, some…...