Love, Anger, Madness
Page 40
“Go ahead, Sataneau, do the honors.”
And the man took the pliers and came toward me. He was very small with a somewhat elongated head and slanting eyes framed by large pointed eyebrows. He smiled and his lips revealed brilliant white, pointed teeth. The face of the man leaning over me suddenly blurred, melting before my very eyes into a blinding metallic plate.
I bowed my head, and with my mouth contorted and eyes closed, cried out:
“The devils! They are here. The devils!…”
I knocked over the chair and fell at their feet, screaming and twisting despite being tied up.
“What the fuck is this nonsense about devils?” the commandant asked in a worried voice.
“He sees them all the time,” Simon replied. “He claims they’re hiding somewhere in town.”
The man was standing, pliers in hand, watching me twist at his feet.
“There is something unnatural about all this,” he said. “Let’s exterminate them and be done with it.”
The devils opening the gates of hell
Will escape by the thousands
Black, red, sparkling with weapons and gold
To sow death and gladden Lucifer…
André began to recite. His voice seemed to come from another world. I was twisting and foaming at the mouth, pricking up my ears to hear what was being said.
“What’s that idiot saying?” the commandant asked.
“He’s talking about devils too,” one of the patrol members replied, visibly disconcerted.
“René described them to us,” Simon said in a declamatory tone. “He has seen them every God-given day.”
“I’ve seen them too,” André said softly.
“You, idiot, you’ve supposedly seen them too?”
“I’ve seen them.”
“When?”
“Every evening for eight days.”
“And who are they after?” the man with the pliers asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Who are they after?” the man with the pliers snapped, leaning over me.
“Untie me! Untie me!” I begged him, writhing. “They’ll be back!”
“Untie him,” ordered the man with the pliers. “And have Dr. Prémature come.”
“Will do, chief,” the corporal answered.
And he ran to the exit.
“He’s pretending to be a madman,” the agitated commandant said nervously, “but I have learned that you can’t be too careful even with real madmen. Admit this is an act. Admit that you’re not crazy,” he grunted, hitting me on the head.
“I am not crazy,” I said, “I have seen the devils. And they’ll be back. They are armed. They don’t have faces and they wear red boots. Black and red, in golden helmets, that’s what they look like. I tell you: when the devils return none of us will escape.”
“He seems sincere,” muttered one of the patrol members.
“And he doesn’t seem to be crazy at all,” the commandant answered. “In fact, he’s admitted he wasn’t.”
“I saw them,” I slowly enunciated. “Black and red, in golden helmets. They move without noise but in the midnight silence you can make out the pounding of their boots and the sound of their voices. Their voices are like hissing bullets. They kill too, and the spilled blood disappears with the rising sun. At the stroke of midnight, prick up your ears, if you’re not scared.”
“Were dead bodies found in the street these last eight days?” asked the man with the pliers, who was growing concerned.
“Dead dogs,” the commandant answered, “and three children on the outskirts of town.”
Dr. Prémature came in with the corporal, trembling.
“Commandant,” said the corporal, twisting his hands, “the women on rue des Saints, led by Germaine, are inciting the crowd with their tales.”
“Two merchants were found dead along the trail to the coffee farms and people claim they’ve seen great black and red shapes running in the woods.”
“Mercy, Holy Virgin!” Marcia moaned. “They’re on their way to my house.”
“They’re there!” I exclaimed in an implacable voice. “I see them!”
And getting up, I slowly walked to the door, looking straight ahead, my hands contorted. The doctor watched me in silence, hands in his coat pockets. He turned to the commandant and said quietly:
“Commandant Cravache, these men are not in full possession of their faculties. Torturing them will be a complete waste of time.”
“Are you sure they’re crazy?” the commandant whispered. “In these godforsaken parts, everyone is called crazy by someone else. Do you take full responsibility for this diagnosis?”
“Look for yourself!” the doctor said.
André had gotten on Simon’s back, and Simon was prancing around with a beatific smile, winking at the man with the pliers. I scanned the surroundings from the doorway, my hand over my eyes. The glint in my fixed, haggard eyes must have been unbearable because the commandant walked up beside me and searched the horizon. Then, he roughly pulled André off Simon’s back. Raising his hand, he touched the scar on his forehead and said to him:
“Where did you get this?”
“I fell when I was little, like so,” André replied.
The commandant stared wildly at Dr. Prémature, leaned over and whispered to him:
“Dr. Prémature, three girls died this month from complications as the result of an abortion. I have received a number of complaints from their parents accusing you of rape and homicide. Either these men are in their right minds or I’ll bring your case to justice…”
“Did I ever say they were crazy?” the doctor exclaimed, becoming pale. “I was merely giving an initial diagnosis. I will have to examine the prisoners more carefully to make a definitive determination.”
“My advice to you is not to make a mountain out of a molehill or I will have no choice but to relieve you of your weapon.”
“They are not crazy!” the doctor exclaimed. “Just now I caught a glint of malice in that one’s eye. I’m certain they’re not insane.”
He was pointing a finger at me.
“You’re making me waste my time, Commandant Cravache, and I don’t much like it!” the man with the pliers suddenly roared. “You write to Port-au-Prince asking for reinforcements under the pretext that there’s a conspiracy. You tell us you found the plotters and then you turn over three loons and two sniveling females.”
“The commandant is new here,” Marcia intervened inopportunely. “I told him they were crazy but he didn’t want to believe me. Everyone in these parts knows they’re crazy. Even the children.”
“Quiet!” the commandant advised fiercely.
“Yes, sir, I’ll keep quiet, yes. Thank you, sir.”
The commandant was still looking at Dr. Prémature. He abruptly turned toward the man with the pliers and spoke with his eyes fixed on the doctor:
“Dr. Prémature,” he said, “have you observed the prisoners sufficiently to offer a diagnosis?”
“Yes,” the doctor answered.
“Are they insane?”
“No,” answered the doctor.
“Have them executed to set an example,” the man with the pliers concluded. “I’m in charge of deciding the prisoners’ fate, and I declare these men traitors to their country. Execute them and don’t waste time. You, Corporal, cuff them.”
“No!” Cécile cried.
“You others, the women, get the fuck out of here,” the man with the pliers added.
“Commandant,” Marcia said, “not to bother you either, sir, but last night, several men came into our cell and raped us.”
“Forget whatever you’ve seen or heard and anything that’s happened to you in this prison, unless you want me to rip out your tongue,” the commandant replied coldly.
“Yes, Commandant, thank you, Commandant.”
“I want to die, I want to die,” Cécile sobbed.
She was slowly getting dressed and weeping
as she looked at me. I smiled at her so peacefully so serenely that she thought I was mad. André seemed to be asleep. Simon looked at the doctor with hatred, spit at his feet and shouted:
“Oh bugger me, just get it over with, get it over with.”
Am I hungry? Am I thirsty? I asked myself. Nothing seemed important. Not love. Not even death. They pushed us outside and we staggered to the place of execution.
“Oh Christ!” I cried. “Since they’re going to tie us to a post like they nailed you to the cross and cover our bodies with wounds, let our deaths mean something and don’t let our names become lost in oblivion.”
And it was then that the sky slowly opened up, and I saw angels in song descend on gleaming wings and take us away in their arms…
NOTES
All notes are the author’s unless otherwise indicated. Marie Vieux-Chauvet writes in an elegant literary French, which she interrupts with colloquialisms, creolisms, and even English in an effort to create specific voices. The creolisms-that is, the use of Creole words such as morne or combite in French texts-are an homage to the indigeniste (nationalist) Haitian literary tradition and a departure from bovarysme, the imitation of French styles practiced by the earliest, generally mulatto, Haitian writers. At times she uses the creolisms as if they were idioms. For example, her peasants refer to themselves as nègres, a Creole word related to the Spanish word negro but which primarily means “men” or “people” and only secondarily means “black men” (nègre blanc is how one says “white man” in Creole).
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
MARIE VIEUX-CHAUVET (1916-73), a seminal voice of post -occupation Haiti, was born in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. Her novels include Fille d’Haïti, La Danse sur le volcan, Fonds des nègres, and Les Rapaces.
ABOUT THE TRANSLATORS
ROSE-MYRIAM RÉJOUIS and VAL VINOKUR (assistant professors of literary studies at Eugene Lang College / the New School) have translated two novels by Patrick Chamoiseau, Solibo Magnificent and Texaco, the latter of which won the American Translators Association Galantière Prize for Best Book in 1998. Their translation of Love, Anger, Madness was supported by a Simon Guggenheim Fellowship.
***
[1] Tonton Mathurin: Tontón is a Creole world for uncle (trans.).
(<< back)
[2] houpland: tunic with a long skirt (trans).
(<< back)
[3] griffe: dark-skinned mixed-race person.
(<< back)
[4] grimelle: mixed-race person with light skin and nappy hair.
(<< back)
[5] clairin: alcohol made with sugarcane; similar to rum but less refined (trans).
(<< back)
[6] has: voodoo gods.
(<< back)
[7] petit-blanc: a white Creole too poor to own a large plantation.
(<< back)
[8] “you found yourself a woman, business is good!”: In the original, Mme Potiron uses Creole, “oil joindre femme affaire ou bon!”(trans.).
(<< back)
[9] grumpy owls: frisés, which the author footnotes as “owls, female” (trans.).
(<< back)
[10] halforts: handmade shoulder bags woven from fan palm fiber (trans.).
(<< back)
[11] black hill folk: In the original, the author uses a creolism, “les nègres des mornes,” without italics. Alomes is Creole for “mountains” and, by extension, the hill country (trans.).
(<< back)
[12] rastaquouères: flashy foreigners, slick upstarts (trans).
(<< back)
[13] cat’s-tongue tea: a calming herbal tea brewed from borage (trans).
(<< back)
[14] old Grandet: In Balzac’s Eugénie Grandet, the miserly father of the heroine (trans).
(<< back)
[15] Antiphelic Milk: skin lotion used to fade freckles, but used here as a skin lightener (trans).
(<< back)
[16] Messalina’s ardor: the Roman empress Messalina, c. 22-48, wife of Claudius and a reputed nymphomaniac (trans).
(<< back)
[17] President Leconte: General Cincinnatus Leconte, president of Haiti from 1911 to 1912 (trans).
(<< back)
[18] “little soldiers”: Petits soldats was the name given to the members of the lower class who made up the Haitian police of the time.
(<< back)
[19] Sophie Fichini: the abused heroine of Les Petites Filles modèles, a novel for children published by the Comtesse de Ségur in 1858 (trans).
(<< back)
[20] Tancrède Auguste: president of Haiti, 1912-13 (trans).
(<< back)
[21] Cacos: revolutionaries from the north.
(<< back)
[22] Vilbrun Guillaume Sam: Leader of the revolt that brought President Leconte to power, Sam served as president of Haiti briefly in 1915, before his execution of political prisoners led to his murder by an angry mob, which precipitated the U.S. occupation of Haiti from 1915 to 1934 (trans).
(<< back)
[23] President Dartiguenave’s government: Philippe Sudré Dartiguenave, president of Haiti from 1915 to 1922 (trans).
(<< back)
[24] Marchaterre Massacre: On December 6, 1929, U.S. Marines opened fire on unarmed peasants during a peaceful demonstration (trans).
(<< back)
[25] Salammbô: priestess of ancient Carthage, the title character of an 1862 novel by Gustave Flaubert (trans).
(<< back)
[26] Emma Bovary: central character in Gustave Flaubert’s 1856 novel Madame Bovary, whose intensely romantic notions lead to her adultery and suicide (trans).
(<< back)
[27] poisoned rat: Haitian expression meaning miserable and burning up inside.
(<< back)
[28] Lysius Salomon’s rule: president of Haiti, 1879-88.
(<< back)
[29] loas: See note 6 on p. 375.
(<< back)
[30] fifty gourdes: One gourde = $0.20, according to the author; this was true when Haitian currency was pegged to the U.S. dollar (1913-89) (trans.).
(<< back)
[31] Armand Duval: In La Dame aux camélias, the 1848 novel (later adapted into a play) by Alexandre Dumas fils, Duval is the penniless lover of the dying heroine (trans).
(<< back)
[32] merengue: Haitian national dance.
(<< back)
[33] clairin: See note 5 on p. 375.
(<< back)
[34] tafia: cheap rum distilled from molasses and refuse sugar (trans.).
(<< back)
[35] Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani: according to Mark 15:34, Jesus Christ’s words on the cross, meaning “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (trans.).
(<< back)
[36] Simple Simon: “Gros-Jean comme devan”: an old expression referring to Gros Jean, a dumb sucker forever tricked and abused, featured in La Fontaine’s fables and in Rabelais.
(<< back)
[37] Diderot: from Diderot’s satirical philosophical dialogue Rameau’s Nephew, written in 1762, in which the title character argues that there is no such thing as virtue (trans.).
(<< back)
[38] Dessalines! Pétion! Toussaint! Christophe!: heroes of Haiti independence. Jean-Jacques Dessalines (c. 1758-1806) was one of the leaders of the 1791 slave revolt; he became emperor of Haiti in 1804, but was assassinated in a coup by Pétion and Christophe. Alexandre Sabès Pétion (1770-1818) was the mulatto son of a wealthy French colonist, who served as president of an independent republic in southern Haiti from 1807 to 1818. Toussaint Louverture (c. 1743-1803) was a former slave who led the 1791 rebellion and became the effective ruler of Haiti by 1797; when Napoleon Bonaparte sent an expedition to reconquer Haiti, Toussaint was arrested, and he died in a French prison. Henri Christophe (1767-1820) was a former slave and one of Toussaint’s lieutenants; after the assassination of Dessalines he became president of northern Haiti in 1807 and king in 1811 (trans.).
(<< back)
(<< back)