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New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007):5-35 TIMO T HY T. SCHWAR T ZS U B S I STE N CE SONG S: HA I T I A N T AT PER FO R M A N CES GE ND ERE D C A PI TAL, A ND LIV EL IHOOD S TRATE GI ES IN JEA N MA KO UT, HA I T IIN T RO D UC T IONRural Haitian women assiduously negotiate sexual acquiescence to men and they do so with the goal of material gain. Ira Lowenthal (1984:22) first described this behavior in detail when he reported that women in his research community referred to their genitals as entere-m (my assets), lajan-m (my money), or manmanlajan-m (my capital), in addition to t-m (my land); a common proverb was, chak famn fet ak yon kawo te nan mitan janm ni (every women is born with a parcel of land between her legs). Lowenthal (1984:22) described this type of female commoditization of sexuality as a field of competition wherein women are at a socially constructed advan tage: Men are conceived of and taught to think they need sexual interaction with women while woman portray themselves and are taught to think of themselves as able to get along without sex and thus are able to exact mate rial rewards for sexual contact with men. C alled gendered capital by Karen E. Richman (2003:123), these sexual-material values are universal in rural Haiti and apply whether the woman in question is dealing with a husband, lover, or a more casual relationship. Moreover, the process is linked to a sexual division of labor and rights and duties associated with control of the household, extra-household income, and female marketing activities. In this article I look at how gendered capital or what may alternatively be described as Haitis sexual-moral economy is expressed in songs that rural adolescent girls compose, sing, and act out in theatrical performances called tat Reminiscent of Jorge Duany (1984:186) who stated that the tra ditional song cannot fail to create and recreate the most important social values of the group that produced it and John S zwed (1970:220) who wrote that song forms and performances are themselves models of social behavior
6 TIMO T HY T. SCHWAR T Z that reflect strategies of adaptation to human and natural environments, the songs I present highlight the uniform sexual-material-domestic value system found throughout rural Haiti. I use the songs as a mechanism to present and describe this value system in a remote rural area of Haiti called Jean Makout, a pseudonym. I try to show how sexual values in the area relate to matrifo cality and subsistence strategies and in doing so attempt to explain how they came about and are maintained. Women, I explain, control production and reproduction in Jean Makout: T hey bear and rear children and in the process they exploit child labor to accomplish household chores, rear animals, and plant gardens, endeavors that ultimately free the women to engage in regional commercial marketing activities. T he process is orchestrated largely by older mothers, full-time market women who extend their control over reproduc tion to that of their young daughters, allowing them (women) to ultimately determine the terms of sexual negotiation with men and putting older women on economically equal footing with men, indeed, often allowing women to economically dominate their spouses. THE SI T E Jean Makout, Haiti, is a commune or what in the United States is known as a county. It is made up of 168 square miles of one of the most geographi cally rugged, remote, and underdeveloped areas of Haiti. The 130,320 men, women, and children living there are mostly scattered throughout the coun tryside in 22,827 relatively dispersed homesteads and clusters of homesteads. T he primary household livelihood strategies are small-scale agriculture, ani mal husbandry, and to a much lesser degree, fishing. T here are no tractors, no electric labor-saving devices no electricity at all no piped water, no water pumps, and no mechanized fishing technology, not even, at the time of this research, outboard motors. T his is not to say that Jean Makout has been untouched by the world econ omy and global trends. In addition to 100 years of colonialism and slavery (1697-1791), the Jean Makout social system and the ancestors of most people who live in the region underwent thirteen years of bloody and violent social upheaval (1791-1804), 202 years of rule by a repressive Haitian state appa ratus (1804-present), 141 of which were tempered by spiritual guidance from the C atholic C hurch, as well as nineteen years of neocolonial U S military occupation (1915-1934) and, most recently, fifty years of massive out-migra tion and an onslaught of internationally funded technical and nutritional aid programs arguably as intense as any place on the planet. T hese most recent trends, migration and foreign aid, have created a social system characterized by the flight of the elite and rural intelligentsia resulting in a system of ongoing abandonment that leaves the poorest and least educated behind and has given
SUB S I ST ENCE SONG S IN JEAN MAKOU T, HAI T I 7 way to extreme poverty, a withdrawal into the local economy, and dependence on traditional subsistence strategies that involve virtually no mechanization and require high expenditures of manual labor ( S chwartz 2001). L ack of infrastructure and wage labor opportunities mean that the prima r y organizational unit of production is the household. Kinship ties and extra household work groups link individuals at the supra-household levels but it is through the household that the individual survives, and it is the labor demands met through household organizational strategies that are most conspicuous feature of the economy. Very importantly for this article, high labor require ments for households mean that people in Jean Makout are heavily dependent on their children for assistance. T he importance of children and dependency on family labor is the key to understanding gender relations in Jean Makout. RE S EARCHThe data are based on five years living in the region, development reports, a 1,586 one-in-fourteen systematic random sample of all households in the commune (1,586 households). Additional surveys were conducted between 1998 and 2000 and included a gender and ecologically stratified, random, 136-household subsample of farmers opinions regarding children and the purposes for having children, and three other surveys focusing on livestock and gardens, household labor demands, and marriage patterns. The surveys attempted to discriminate differences by regional and ecological zone but it was found that gender relations and livelihood strategies are remarkably uni form throughout the commune as are the presented songs (see A ppendix).GIR LS TA T SONG S Girls Theater When school is out for the summer, girls in rural Jean Makout neighborhoods form dance troupes called tat (theater). T he troupes are formed by the girls themselves. T here is no adult sponsorship or leadership. T he girls are all pre nuptial, have not yet borne children, and are generally aged 10 to 20 years. Older girls appoint themselves troupe directors and instruct the younger girls in daily practices. The girls dress in short skirts and sing while performing the latest erotic dances such as the buterfli (butterfly), a dance in which the girls gyrate, opening their legs wide and rocking their abdomens out toward the impromptu audience as they descend lower and lower toward the ground. T he songs are improvised from bits of other songs and spiced with the girls own creative additions. T he most popular songs are imbued with sexual con
8 TIMO T HY T. SCHWAR T Z notations such as the following, in which the girls celebrate their own bud ding sexuality with respect to the sexual bravado of men, L ook here, it is mango season L ook here, the mangos are sweet and beautiful Good day young lady, I say to you good day It is a plantain that has come to make things sweet Its Pepsi C ola I drink. It is C oca C ola I drink Its Pepsi C ola I drink. It is C oca C ola I drink Vwasi l mango, Vwasi l mango, yo dous e yo koket Bon swa madamwazel mwen di ou bon swa Se yon banan ki vini pou-l sikre Se pepsi kola m bwe, se koka kola m bwe Se pepsi kola m bwe, se koka kola m bweThe song relies heavily on metaphors, and in this particular one, informants explained that mangos, ubiquitous in Haiti and the all-time favorite fruit, symbolize the girls budding young breasts. The eroticism of fruit and par ticularly a mango with its soft juicy flesh is clear to native speakers; the declaration that it is mango season, means that it is time to eat mangos, the fruit is ripe, or rather, the girl has come of age and she is ready to engage in sexual relations. T he good day young lady is an introduction to the young woman and the next line reveals the speaker, a man, represented as another fruit, a plantain, which is not sweet but has nevertheless come to add sugar ( sikre ), and happens to be the most phallic-shaped fruit in Haiti, leaving little doubt for analysis (any remaining doubts are erased by snickering Haitian informants). The references to Pepsi and Coca Cola are metaphors for pres tige. In Jean Makout these are, aside from beer, the most expensive locally available beverages and they have correspondingly high prestige value, rep resenting the speaker as a high roller. Thus, the songs reviewed here all touch on the theme of sex. The songs also highlight female ideals and aspirations, gender relations, control over resources, parental-daughter relationships, and most importantly of all, the rules, expectations, and norms associated with male-female sexual interac tion, all of which, I argue, are interrelated in what might be called a type of sexual-moral economy. The analysis, conducted with the assistance of local informants who helped explain the double and sometimes triple meaning of the words to the songs, begins with a look at a socially constructed problem that Jean Makout women have and the representation of that problem in tat songs.
SUB S I ST ENCE SONG S IN JEAN MAKOU T, HAI T I 9 MA L E SEXUA L AGGRE SS IVENE SSA common expression used by women in Jean Makout is men are dogs ( gason se chyen ); men can not get by without having sex ( gason pa ka rete san fi ). No strong prohibitions exist in Jean Makout against men seducing young women and Haitian laws that prohibit sex with girls under fifteen are not enforced. Men in their fifties, sixties, and even men in their seventies are referred to with regard to their sexuality as jenn gason (young men) and pow erful men may have four or five and even six common-law wives, a source of pride and esteem. T hus, young women are badgered and cajoled by a relatively large pool of socially eligible, sexually active, and highly aggressive men. T he most common seduction tactic is for a man to catch a woman on a footpath or while she is alone in the kitchen. He will seize her arm so she cannot get away, playfully trying to pull her near, proclaiming his desire for her and pleading for her sexual affection while whispering promises of money and gifts. As counterintuitive as it might at first seem, females arguably play an influential role in encouraging aggressive male sexual conduct. They take part in propagating the myth that a celibate man can go insane, become ill, and may die. T hey tease timid boys and ridicule celibate men, taunting them with names like jay-jay (retarded) and masisi (homosexual); and they goad younger brothers and even sons into pursuing nubile young women with com ments that sound to the Westerner like admonitions to rape, you must bother them, dont let them get away, grab them ( fo ou jennen yo, pa kite yo ale, fo ou kenbe yo ). T he influence of women in conditioning male attitudes begins at an early age, as exemplified by the fondling of the genitals of male infants, toddlers, and boys up to the ages of 9 and 10 years, something so thoroughly engrained and accepted as to appear to the foreigner to be below the level of awareness. T he fondling is made easy by the custom of making prepubescent boys go without pants. E xamples of the context in which it occurs include the following: A rural woman nervous about being interviewed by the author dis tracts herself by fondling a 4-year-olds penis all the while she is answering questions; a 19-year-old woman sitting on a bed in a dimly lit hut talking to the author reaches beside her and, without ever looki n g at what she is doing, begins fondling the penis of a naked 8-year-old boy, and does so as noncha lantly as if she had just picked up a pen or any other stray object off the table; a 22-year-old woman excited to see her 2-year-old nephew tickles his penis, lifts the boy, swings his body up to her face and pops his penis playfully into her mouth. The toddlers and young boys are not indifferent to the treatment and react with enthusiasm, smile and laugh when given the attention, and often follow their significant female others around. T he song below playfully alludes to, or is at least suggestive of the active role that Jean Makout females play in determining male sexual identity and the coy preservation, or at least guarded access, to their own sexuality,
10 TIMO T HY T. SCHWAR T Z I went to Port-de-Paix I went to buy a little wooden club L ittle club, if it falls I will make it rise again T wo feet tied, two arms crossed I have a place I have a place on my body that boys dont know Where is it? Below my mound Below my mound M ale P-de-Pe M-al achte yon ti baton Ti baton si-l tonbe m-a leve-l D pye mare, d bra-m kwaze Mwen gon kote Mwen gon kote nan ko-m ti gason pa konnen Ki kote li ye? Anba ti vant mwen Anba ti vant mwenT he reference to a little wooden club is an obvious phallic allusion (clubs are not something that everyone in Jean Makout is walking around with, and while old infirm people might use a cane, purchasing one is nonsensical). T he line, if the club falls, signifies the loss of an erection and this image is reinforced by the next line which in Kreyol uses the verb leve (rise) and anko (again) I will make it rise again rather than ranmase the Kreyol word for pick up I will pick up the club. T he next line, T wo feet tied, two arms crossed, suggests restraint or prohibited access to the womans sexual ity. T he remaining lines, I have a place boys dont know ... under my mound are a proclamation of virginity and chastity: under my mound is translated from anba ti vant mwen it literally means under my little stoma c h. In effect, the girl may choose, buy, a penis to fondle, making it rise again and again, but her own genitals have never been known by boys. CHA ST I T Y AN D T HE COMMERCIA L IZA T ION OF FEMA L E SEXUA L I T YA lthough women encourage men to be sexually aggressive and inculcate in boys the association between females and sexual stimulation, they are not themselves so willing to comply with the amorous wishes of men. T he social l y constructed attitudes of Jean Makout women are contrary to that of men. While admitting that they desire sex, women define themselves as not needing it. Despite the hot tone of the songs, they always include restraint, as in the previous song, two feet tied, two arms crossed ... I have a place
SUB S I ST ENCE SONG S IN JEAN MAKOU T, HAI T I 11 that boys dont know. A ll Jean Makoutiens know and commonly say, girls do not flirt with boys ( fi pa konn koze a gason ). It is the boys job to flirt. S exually aggressive women or those who engage in sex for pleasure are criti cized, as in she is such slut ( tann li bouzen ), or insultingly called nym phomaniac ( piten ). A young woman who has not had children and is not in union will always insist she is a virgin, no matter what her personal sexual history might be; and as a matter of identity and pride most Jean Makout women insist, often and quite publicly when the subject arises, that they can live without sex. T hey describe themselves as siptan (able to tolerate absti nence). T hey maintain an attitude of sexual indifference, describing exces sive sexual intercourse as painful, a burdensome service they provide to men, and while admitting that sex can be fun, and even exalting its pleasures, they consider over-manifestations of their own biological interest in sex to be a fault, something evident in attitudes toward vaginal secretions during sex. C ommonly thought in Western society as a biological sign of sexual arousal, Jean Makout women who become more than slightly wet are called bonbon dlo (watery vagina), considered disgusting; and women make efforts to dry themselves if the condition manifests itself during sex, even if the sex is with their husbands. A s in studies mentioned from elsewhere in rural Haiti ( L owenthal 1987, R ichman 2003), the defining feature of female attitudes toward sexual rela tions in Jean Makout is that they view their sexuality as an economic asset. T hey say that they are born with a carreau of irrigated land between their legs (the most valuable asset in rural Haiti); and they refer to their genitalia in exchange terms, byen-pa-m (assets/goods), excusing each other for engaging in an affair outside of conjugal union so long as the man reciprocates with material rewards: S he is a woman isnt she? Its her right; Getting by is not a sin ( degaje se pa pech ). Men are acutely aware of the rules, and they commonly say, in order to have a woman you must have money ( pou gen fi, fo gen lajan ), and women eat/devour men, meaning they take all a mans wealth ( fi konn manje gason ). A womans right to exchange sex for financial reward is exalted in the following song which according to informants is actu ally a metaphor for sex and a demand for payment, I need a couple of dollars Why do I need couple of dollars? T o buy a ribbon, to tie around my waist, to make my hips shake/the dance work Just throw it in my alley, two dollars Just throw it in my alley, two dollars Just throw it in my alley, two dollars
12 TIMO T HY T. SCHWAR T Z Mwen bezwen d dola Sa pou-m fe d dola? Pou achte yon ribon pou fe lamayet mache Lage li nan riyl la, d dola Lage li nan riyl la, d dola, Lage li nan riyl la, d dola This song humorously summarizes the attitudes with which Jean Makout women imbue their sexuality. A s with the other songs, it is a play on words, but words already very sexual. The Kreyol term lamayet designates a sexy dance movement and informants explained that it is combined with the word mache (to function, operate, work) to form the implied verb to hump make the dance ( lamayet ) function or less suggestively, to enable the girl to better shake her hips. Lage literally means to let go and a Haitian male come on is, lage-m nan reyal la which means, let me loose in your alley. But in terms of money a very common colloquialism is, lage sink goud nan min mwen (let a dollar go in my hand). T hus, lage li nan reyal la is a play on these two expressions and to state it literally, it means, just throw the money in my vaginal canal. S o the song is a rather ingenious circular play on words that reduced means, I need two dollars. Why? Because if you want me to perform sex that is what it costs to get my hips going. So just throw the two dollars right in my vagina. T he Jean Makoutiens who reviewed these songs with me could hear this particular song several times in succession and laugh hysterically every time.THE SEXUA L MARKE T AN D NEGO T IA T ING GEN D ER Male sexual aggressiveness and female chastity coupled with the material demands women attach to sexual acquiescence set the grounds for a negoti ated struggle between the genders: Men want women to grant them sexual favors; women want material goods and money. Young, old, and those men already in common-law union or married harass and plead for sexual favors from young women who are not yet in union. But wanting sex is one thing; getting it is another. No matter how much a woman might be attracted to a man, she is sup posed to resist, and at the heart of the issue of resistance is the value of her sexuality and what the man has to offer in exchange. A woman will indicate her receptiveness by providing the man with cooked food when he visits her at her mothers home. But she must not concede, she must not respond to sexual advances. She holds out for gifts and money. Unless in utter secrecy, no self-respecting young Jean Makout woman will give any open indication of sexual acquiescence before the gift of gold earrings and a gold chain, the
SUB S I ST ENCE SONG S IN JEAN MAKOU T, HAI T I 13 defining symbol of a mans intentions to play by the rules. And if the man hopes for continu e d receptivity he must continually bring gifts, meat, garden produce, and store-bought presents from town, a handkerchief, perfume, a porcelain figurine. T o the extent that he does this the woman will manifest her willingness, reciprocating with domestic service, washing clothes, pro viding water for him to wash and, as the man demonstrates his generosity, acquiescing to sexual contact. All of this ideally occurs under the watchful eye of the young womans mother. S ome men, of course, try to cheat. T hey try to get something for nothing by not living up to their pretenses, by not fulfilling the financial responsibili ties that men have to lovers and to the mothers of their children. Women and their families strenuously object to this behavior. T hroughout Haiti the most widely used insult for men and one that has a very exact meaning is vakabon, a name with legal-historical origins the crime of being a man with no money or job, but that today specifically denotes a playboy who does not meet his financial responsibilities to lovers, wives, and offspring. T he vakabon is a major concern to Jean Makout women and a recurrent theme in tat songs: Young men, they are not working, they do not have just one girlfriend Young women think they have money T he men offer engagement and the girls give their whole body to them T hen the men ignore them, turn their backs and go If you see I am carrying a gift it is for my godmother A ccompanied by another for my godfather Godfather come and get it, you must come and get it in the butterfli If you can not come get it in the butterfli you can not have it Jen gason yo pap travay, yo pa kondi yon sel menaj Jen fi yo pa panse si yo pa gen lajan L yo we yo finanse, yo lage tout ko bay yo L sa yo meprize, yo vire do yo ale Si ou we m pote yon kado se pou fe marenn kado Akompani a yon lt, se pou parenn mwen li ye Parenn mwen w-ap vin pran, w-ap vin pran nan butterfli Si ou pa pran nan butterfli, ou pa ka vin pran nan min In this song the girls complain, and warn, that many young men dress smartly and act as if they have money when in fact they do not. They bluff young women, promising money and marriage for sex. Girls who fall for it are sub sequently abandoned. T here is then a refrain about godmothers. Godmothers are like mothers, special, female, and deserving of gifts. In the next line the girl, says the godfather, must come and get it in the butterfli, a sexual allu sion. The only butterfli in the Kreyol language is a dance movement men tioned earlier where girls spread their legs, thrust out their abdomen, and
14 TIMO T HY T. SCHWAR T Z gyrate. T hus the metaphor means, to take it from the girls crotch, echoi n g the exchange relations between the genders because, as Jean Makoutiens know, the only gift a Jean Makout woman should give to a man is sex, not material goods it is men who give material goods to women. The same rules in a modified form extend into conjugal union; and it is at this stage that the link between subsistence and sexual-moral economy begins to become clear. CON J UGA L UNION AN D T HE PROVI S ION OF A HOU S ET he building of a house is the single most important event that occurs in the legitimization of a union. A couple may have several children but until the man has provided her with her own house, they are not considered in union nor is the woman bound by obligations of fidelity. E ven legal marriage is dis missed and legally vacuous if the man has not provided a house for his wife. T he value of a womans sexuality is so closely linked to material exchange and house building that in cases of rape, marriage between victim and assail ant is a possible penalty, particularly if the parties are young and particularly if the man is of higher socioeconomic status. In a case that occurred in a community where I was living, a 25-year-old man was convicted of raping a 14-year-old girl. His punishment: T o buy the girl a gold chain, earrings, and to promise marriage. The parents took the chain and earrings but citing the mans poverty, that good-for-nothing can not provide anything for our child ( sansave sa pa ka regle anyen pou pitit pa nou ), they insultingly sent the man a female dog in their daughters stead. If the man is already married, a financial indemnity is the usual outcome. If the woman is married or in a consensual union with another man, the situation is different and rare. T he rapist is considered to have threatened the continuation of the marriage, as the husband may leave his wife. S everity is the rule and the assailant will be going to prison, if the girls family does not manage to kill him first, and his family will have to pay the woman and her husband a sum that according to local judges may include the loss of all or most of the mans property. T he relationship to sexual access, exchange, and the provision of a house is metaphorically represented in the following tat song,A place, I need a place T o spin myself around U nderneath my house (dress) I have an adult Who is shaking me
SUB S I ST ENCE SONG S IN JEAN MAKOU T, HAI T I 15 Kote, m bezwenn yon kote Pou-m liete ko-m Anba lakay-um Mwen gen yon gran moun Kap sakaje-m In this song the girl is saying that she needs to break out of the confinement of being a child and of social constrictions, a place I need a place, to spin myself around. She then gets right to the point, under her house, which informants explained as also meaning under her dress, she has an adult who is shaking her. The thinly disguised sexual meaning is that the girls genitals are mature, adult, and they are frustrating her, she is yearning to use them, yearning for sex, she can not stand it any longer, she must find a place to let herself go, she must find a man, she is ready. The song seems to challenge the female rule not to be overtly sexual but it must be remembered that women do not deny their sexual desire; they emphasize that unlike men, they can control it and in this way is meant to be sexually teasing as in, I have what you want, it is ready, but you must first provide me with what I need, a place and a house. T o further clarify the point, there are dual and even tri-metaphoric references in the song, references that hit on key themes in Jean Makout gender relations and the demands and aspirations of women. S pecifically, women in Jean Makout are thought of as the owners of houses, and a girl does not become a fully recognized adult until she has established her own homestead. But it is that man who, if he wishes to win exclusive sexual access to the woman, must build her a house. T hus, by allusion the girl is saying that she is adult, she has the skills to manage her own home. A ll she needs is a man and the house he will provide; and by metaphor she is a house and is stating that she needs a place for herself, her house. She is ready to be a woman, she has an adult inside shaking her. DOING YOUR PAR T Once a house has been built, the inviolable rights and duties associated with the union begin and they carry the weight of both custom and law. For his part, the man must plant gardens and raise livestock for the household. He may come and go as he pleases. He may even take other wives and plase them (build a house for them and provide gardens and livestock). But under no circumstances may he lead another wife or lover into the yard or share products of that particular homestead with another woman. So long as he is fulfilling these obligations, the woman, on her part, must be faithful, another value expressed in a tat song that plays on the word plase using it here as
16 TIMO T HY T. SCHWAR T Z literally meaning, to get stuck, but with its metaphoric suggestion, to enter union, and suggesting fidelity, Im like corn chaff, Im like corn chaff E veryone knows I am like corn chaff Wherever I plase I dont deplase E veryone knows I am like corn chaff When C edras was president C hildren did not make love young Now Brother Preval is president and children make love at a year old Se pay mayi, se pay mayi Tout moun konnen m se pay mayi Kote m plase, m pa deplase Tout moun konnen me se pay mayi L Cedras te la, ti moun pat reme bon Kounie-a se fre Preval, Ti Moun reme sou en anT he reference to corn chaff and its clinging effects is a humorous allusion to bits of corn that tend to get stuck in the teeth. T he phrase wherever I am plase I dont deplase is a play on the word plase which can mean two things, consen sual union or to be placed, and deplase which means to move or be moved. T he girl is saying that she is like corn that gets stuck in your teeth, she will not let go easily, also meaning that once she is given a house and enters union with a man she will stay put, she will not abandon him for another man, she is loyal. T he rest of the song is a lauding of entrance into sexual activity at an early age: When C edras the mean military dictator was in power children could not reme (go steady) at an earlier age. Now that the nice brother Preval is run ning the country, children can engage in relationships at the ridiculously early age of one year, an echo of the lack of proscriptions against seducing young women, but conspicuously attached to provision of a house, plase .CON T RO L It is the woman who is in control of the household, expenses, and household production. Women take care of the house, clean, wash clothes, make meals, carry water, and purchase basic foods and necessities at the market. Women also sell garden produce in markets and they often specialize in selling a particular staple or item out of the house such as rice, sugar, candles, or soap. A woman who has a husband who is present will typically not participate
SUB S I ST ENCE SONG S IN JEAN MAKOU T, HAI T I 17 in preparing fields or weeding, but women are considered indispensable in planting, and more importantly, for the daily picking of produce and seasonal harvests. Harvesting is considered to be the exclusive domain of women and is typically coordinated by the ranking woman of the house.T able 1. Who Needs the Other More, Husband or Wife? Respondents Men (n = 69) Women (n = 69) Men & Women (n = 138) Husband needs wife more 28% 23% 26% Wife needs husband more 3% 13% 8% They both need the other equally 70% 63% 68% T otal Responses 100% 100% 100% T hus, men and women depend on one another in a socially constructed sym biosis, a need manifest in responses to the question, can you get by without a spouse? 86 percent of respondents said no. But reflective of the sexual values described above and of the superior bargaining position of women by virtue of their monopoly over the means of reproduction, men are con ceived of as needing women more than the other way around: only 13 percent of women reported that a wife needs her husband more, but 23 percent of women reported that a husband is in greater need of his wife. S imilarly, only 4 percent of men interviewed said, yes, they would live without their spouse; in comparison, 24 percent of Jean Makout women said they could live with out a husband.T able 2. R esponse to, C an you get by without a spouse? Men (68) Women (68) T otal 136 No 96% 76% 86% Yes 4% 24% 14% 100% 100% 100% (Chi-sq = 10, bilateral p(y) = .001)
18 TIMO T HY T. SCHWAR T Z Bearing in mind the greater value of the woman in managing and maintain ing the household, a mans provision of a house, gardens, and animals can be understood as a type of contractual partnership in which in exchange for these material goods a woman cedes over access to her ability to reproduce, the resulting children, and her and her childrens labor. But she is still in control. People in Jean Makout say, gason dwe fe kay, min gason pa gen kay (men have a duty to build houses but they do not have houses). Should a man fail to provide for his spouse and children, the woman has the right to cuckold him without being expelled from the house. The point cannot be understated. For a woman who has borne children with a man, all the property inside the house, all that is in the yard, and all the gardens that a man plants and that are not tagged for another woman belong to her (specifi cally, they belong to her in the name of the children she has borne with the man). C ustom and law reinforce the preeminence of the womans right to the household and the associated production. S hould a man and woman argue, it is the man who must leave, and he takes only his clothes with him and his radio, as informants jokingly added, if he has one. For outsiders who think that Haitian men can violate these rules by physi cal intimidation and violence, the reality is usually different. Women in Jean Makout can be and often are more ferocious than men. They also have their brothers, fathers, and sisters, all of whom will, if it is clear that the womans rights are being abused by a man, join her in violent confrontation. In seven teen violent incidences I recorded while living in one Jean Makout com munity, only four involved men only; eight began with a conflict between a man versus a woman, in only three of these cases the woman was slightly injured, and in four cases the man was severely beaten; in two he almost died. Women also have recourse to the legal system, and judges enforce the rules described. 1Thus, women in Jean Makout tend to be tough and they aggressively assert their control over household expenditures. Husbands who impinge on their wives sovereignty in the financial sphere are resented. T eenage girls sing the following tat song with glee:1 In Haitian urban areas domestic violence against women is widespread. I believe this is a consequence of the large difference in male versus female economic opportunities and the relative absence of family parents, brothers, sisters, uncles, and cousins who can protect or even seek revenge for the woman. I do not believe, nor does my personal expe rience suggest, that violence against women occurs in rural areas to anywhere near the same degree. (Indeed, as seen, women appear more violent than men.) I believe this lower occurrence of domestic violence against women is a consequence of the exact opposite conditions to those found in the city: first, rural women have higher economic status vis-vis men than their urban counterparts, and second, family members are present and they often retaliate against violence to their daughters, sisters, mothers, and cousins.
SUB S I ST ENCE SONG S IN JEAN MAKOU T, HAI T I 19 My little S aint A nn I am going to make a demand I dont know if it will be granted But I must make that man quit being stingy I dont know if it will be granted I am going to make that man quit counting dumplings in the pot It is the first time, it is the last time that I will be with a man from ... Men from ... like to count the dumplings in the pot Mon ti saint ann Mwen pral fe yon demann Mwen pa konnen si lap bon Pou-m ka fe gason kite saf Mwen pa konnen si lap bon Mwen pral fe gason an kite konte boy nan chodie Se premie se denie pou-m kite ak neg ... Neg ... remen konte boy nan chodiSaint Ann is a reference to a deified idol, a doll found near the north coast town of Anse--Fleur where there exists a waterfall and annual pilgrimage site of voudou and Catholic zealots. The doll was found several years ago by a mambo (female shaman), who keeps it in a shrine. During the annual pilgrimage people come to ask wishes and favors of the doll. Thus, the girl is saying that the man is such a nuisance with his stinginess that she is going to go to Saint Ann and ask to change his behavior. This is also a nice way of threatening sorcery, and in this she would be justified by local stan dards because the man is overstepping his bounds. The meaning of the man counting dumplings is that he wants to see just how much food his wife is preparing with the objective of calculating how much she is spending, on what, how much she is eating, and who is getting to eat it, all responsibilities in the domain of the woman. T he reference to dumplings is also, as indicated by one informant, a sexual one. In the game called Krik Krak, a Haitian game of riddles, a local riddle is a dumpling in a cup. The answer: sexual intercourse, or more bluntly, a penis in a vagina (dumplings, called boy are long and phallic shaped), so that one metaphoric suggestion is that the man counting dumplings in the pot is counting how much sex he is getting from his wife. The girls who sing the song tease men from certain zones in Jean Makout with the common refrain, It is the first, it is the last time I will be with a man from such and such place, men from such and such place like to count the dumplings in the stew pot.
20 TIMO T HY T. SCHWAR T Z MEN AN D THEIR PROB L EM: MONEYS ome observers might interpret the marital expectations depicted above as favorable to men. In contrast to women who are confined to the drudgery of the homestead and bound by expectations of sexual fidelity, men have nearly unbounded sexual freedom. But women are not bound to the homestead: T hey have the regional rotating market system, a domain of entrepreneurial activity monopolized exclusively by women. Furthermore, men too want homes. T o break free of the bounds of parental control and achieve a minimum of eco nomic autonomy a man must build a house and start a home. But he must first find a woman to make the home productive. It is his spouse who will wash his clothes, make his meals, fetch water, and go to market. He will not be having a great deal of luck seducing other women in the meantime. Female chastity and the financial demands that women attach to their sexuality mean that until a man has demonstrated that he is a dependable source of income his success in sexual ventures depends on lies and deceit, behavior that, if successful at all, only begets failure, as it earns him the reputation of a vakabon and quickly destroys, or at least makes greatly difficult, success with other young women. In short, any way that a man approaches the issue, the financial demands that women attach to their sexuality creates a major problem for him: money. Many young men cannot afford union. In search of money so they can court a woman, buy gold earrings and a chain for her, and begin to build a house, some migrate, causing the proportion of males to females in Jean Makout to drop by 7 to 10 percent for the 20 to 49 year age group. R ather than delay the onset of childbearing waiting for male age cohorts to come back from the city or to become financially mature at home, most young Jean Makout women enter into union and begin bearing children with men who are older and have the financial means to provide for them. T hus, 49 percent of Jean Makout men do not enter union until their thirties while 48 percent of women are already in union before the age of twenty-five. A t least a large minority of the men with whom women consent to enter union already have a spouse. In a sample of 122 men over fifty years of age, 40 percent of them had been, at some time in their life, simultaneously engaged in union with more than one woman. THE KEY T O T HE JEAN MAKOU T SEXUA LMORA L ECONOMY: CHI LD REN S ECONOMIC CON T RIBU T ION S T O HOU S EHO LD PRO D UC T ION SA lthough it takes a mans financial and labor contributions to establish a Jean Makout household and a womans to manage it, children make the house hold a viable unit of production. T he labor value of children in Jean Makout, even very young children, cannot be gainsaid, and any observer who denies
SUB S I ST ENCE SONG S IN JEAN MAKOU T, HAI T I 21 the importance of children in the endeavor to survive and maintain living standards is neglecting the harsh environmental and economic reality of life in rural Haiti. A household cannot sustain itself without child labor. Only 5.4 percent of households (85 of the 1,523 reporting) in the main survey upon which this study is based had no children compared to 12 percent of house holds with no adult woman present full time and 23 percent of households with no adult male present full time. Fifty-seven percent of these childless households (47 of 83 for which the data is available) were in yards with other houses that did have children, indicating that only 36 of 1,523 houses (2.4 percent of the total) were actually homesteads without children. 2 In Jean Makout it is emphatically child labor that determines the pro ductive capacity of a household. Children perform household chores, they cook, they clean, they retrieve water, they go to the market, they work in the garden, and they tend livestock. In a test of the importance of children, the number of 7to 25-year-olds present, who were not either the household head or the spouse of the household head, was found to explain fully .33 of the variance in ownership of animals and .33 of the variance in the number of gardens planted. T his relationship was originally expected to be a byprod uct of the age of the household head i.e. the older the household head, the more land, animals, and children he or she had accumulated. But when age of the household head was statistically controlled by adding it to the regres sion equation, the model still explained .32 of the variance in number of household gardens and .20 of the variance in number of household animals (statistics originally published in S chwartz 2004). The skeptical reader may not be convinced that more children translates to greater wealth. It could just as easily be said that more children translates to the need for more gardens and more animals. Jean Makout farmers, how ever, needed no convincing. In an opinion survey of 68 women and 68 men randomly selected from my original 1,586 household baseline survey, farm ers overwhelmingly emphasized that children are not just helpful, they are necessary; and they are necessary because they work. Why does a person have children? T o help. Right now for example, I would have to go get water. But I dont have to. It is here. I would have to go get wood. But I dont have to. Its right here. (40-year-old mother of 5) If I did not have them, things would be worse for me. You need a little water, they go to the water. You need a little firewood, they go get wood. T he boys work in the garden for you. T hey look after the animals. (33-year-old mother of 8) 2 N = 1,523, missing = 66.
22 TIMO T HY T. SCHWAR T Z C hildren are the biggest necessity. If you need something you tell a child. Like right now, I can say, go look for some firewood, or some embers from the neighbors house. Go to the market. (27-year-old father of 3)C hildren are so valuable that, as mentioned earlier with regard to adolescent girls and restaveks household heads are eager to take in children from other families. Few are able to do so; only 2 percent of children in the baseline survey were living in homes other than those owned and managed by their mother, grandmother, or another close family member. 3T able 3. Child Residence Patterns: Relationship of Child Household Members to Head of Household Frequency Percent Child 4,866 79.74 Grandchild 609 9.98 Niece/Nephew 180 2.95 Sibling 137 2.25 Cousin 69 1.13 Restavek 66 1.08 Stepchild 50 0.83 Godchild 18 0.29 Sibling-In-Law 18 0.29 Friend 16 0.26 T otal 6,029 100.00 Missing = 86; C hildren under 19 years of age 3 The value of children means there are no true orphans in the area, not in the sense of being without someone to care for them. In a study of virtually all orphanages in the entire northwest dpartement of Haiti, in which Jean Makout is but a small part, I found that virtually all functioned in a manner similar to boarding schools in the U nited S tates: most children had parents, most were not from the ranks of the poorest of the peasants, but rather the Haitian orphanage managers shared access to free books, education, and overseas contacts with offspring of wealthier peasants, their own family, and even with offspring of adults who had migrated to Miami. In some cases the orphanage owners had sent for relatives in the city to be orphans. In other cases peasants rented their children to the orphanage in exchange for part of the money sent by the childs overseas sponsor.
SUB S I ST ENCE SONG S IN JEAN MAKOU T, HAI T I 23 C hart 1. R espondents Preferring S ix over T hree C hildren 80% 70% 60% 50% 40% 30% 20% 10% 0% C hildren are especially valuable to older people and especially older women who control homesteads. When asked which is best, for a man and woman to have three or six children? 45 percent of men favor the larger family versus 72 percent of women who favored the larger family. R esponses also varied sub stantially by age. Women over 50 were far more inclined than any other male or female age category to choose the couple with six children: Fully 87 percent (20 of the 23 women) chose the couple with six. T able 4. Preferred Number of C hildren by A ge and S ex of R espondent Age Categories T otal 20 34 35 49 50 + A couple with three children versus a couple with six, who is better off? Men Three 10 11 14 35 Six 3 13 13 29 T otal 13 24 27 64 Women Three 10 6 3 19 Six 13 16 20 49 T otal 23 22 23 68 Missing = 4 Older womens preference for more children than younger women has to do with the economic benefits that accrue to older women with many children at their disposal. With greater numbers of children women begin to plant their own gardens and to raise more animals, activities that free her from dependency on a husband. A mong the 24 percent of women seen earlier who said that they could live without a man (see T able 2), it was in fact entirely women with three children or more who said so ( T able 5).
24 TIMO T HY T. SCHWAR T Z T able 5. Women Who S ay T hey C an L ive Without a Husband by Number of C hildren Women who say they can live without a spouse Number of Children 0 2 (n = 10) 3 5 (n = 58) Yes 00.0% 27.0% No 100.0% 73.0% Women made no secret about the value of children in helping them attain economic independence from husbands, commonly responding with state ments such as, What makes me say I can live without a man? What I need to do to come up with a sack of food I can accomplish with my four children. (30-year-old mother of 4) If I have children, I dont need my husband at all. Children, hey! hey! I would like to have ten children. I dont need my husband (41-year-old mother of 7) Why can I live without a man? I arrive at an age like this. A ll my affairs are in order. I dont need my husband anymore (56-year-old mother of 8)Equally or more important than livestock and gardens, child labor frees a woman to enter fully into a career in marketing, an endeavor that is, after gar dens and livestock, the third most important source of income in the region, one that can put women on economic footing equal to and sometimes sub stantially greater than men. A nd as indicated by the women who say they can live without a husband, success comes with age and with children. A Jean Makout woman with four to eight children is four times more likely to be engaged in commercial activity than a woman with zero to three children. Freed by the help of children, the most successful women sometimes build their trade revenue up to several thousand Haitian dollars per month. They buy agricultural land and animals, invest in a wide assortment of business ventures and sometimes even hire men to work gardens for them. Houses that have a woman in her 40s, 50s, and 60s are almost invariably known not by the husbands name, but by the name of the woman, as in Ma Zels house or L ilis place. But as seen, it all depends on the availability of child labor. A nd so it is with the issue of the value of children that we arrive at an understanding of gender relations in Jean Makout.
SUB S I ST ENCE SONG S IN JEAN MAKOU T, HAI T I 25 ITS TOUGH T O BE A MAN: FA T HER S AN D T HE DAUGH T ER S WHO DONT CARE MUCH ABOU T THEM Despite the sexual freedom, most men begin and end their adult lives in a union with the same woman. Even when men take other wives they sel dom abandon their first wife. But, the socially constructed gender behavior of men means that their lives are oriented outside the home as makers and tenders of distant gardens, tenders of livestock, professional craftsmen who often must voyage far from home as house builder, boat carpenter, sawyer, or as a fisherman and migrant laborer in pursuit of wages to pay for homes, to be able to afford gifts for lovers, and to pay for the education and upkeep of children, all necessary to rise above the label of vakabon T hus, often absent from the homestead, men do not consistently participate in the upbringing of their children. They are seen as fickle, and they are correspondingly not, as seen in the tat song below, appreciated to the same degree as mothers:S ince I was a baby in my mothers stomach T hey turned me loose in Makab A fter I managed to make a little money, they accused me of being a thief When my father heard, he took a bus and went away When my mother heard, she took a bus and came to get me For my father, he can go. Goooooooooo. For my mother, she is my mother since I was I baby, I must caress her Depi m piti nan vant mama, yo lage-m nan Makab Apre ekonmi yo akize-m kom yon gwo vol L papa-m tande sa, li pran yon machinn li ale kite-m L mama-m tande sa, li pran machinn li vini chche mwen Anko pou papa-m li met ale, ale o Mama deja mama depi m piti fok mwen karese-lTHE MO T HER-DAUGH T ER RE L A T ION S HI P In contrast to disparaging attitudes toward fathers, Jean Makout girls revere their mothers. Eight of the forty-two tat songs analyzed included refrains praising mothers and designating gifts and money meant for the mother. But the relationship goes both ways: mothers reported favoring daughters over sons by a factor of four to one. T he value of girls means that women are also eager to take in nieces, younger female cousins, and in an institution known as restavek 4 less fortunate female offspring of other families, although the 4. The restavek institution is a rural-village and rural urban phenomenon; farmers loan children to gain sociopolitical and commercial contacts in village and urban areas and to attain educational opportunities for their children.
26 TIMO T HY T. SCHWAR T Z value of young girls also means they are seldom successful in procuring them. A nd, while some observers may object to a crass materialist approach, mothers themselves reported that the reason they prefer girls is because they are a tremendous help around the homestead: 62 percent of mothers gave this as the reason. Girls learn young how to care for the household and how to perform tasks of the mother. By the age of 12 or 13 years Jean Makout country girls can do most things their mothers can: cook, clean, take care of younger children, and sell at the market. Indeed, when arriving at homesteads in Jean Makout one often finds not the mother but a young teenage girl left in charge. Girls, however, grow up, they meet men, get pregnant, and have their own children. Mothers know they cannot hold on to their daughters forever. T he labor value of daughters is greatly important to women, and they are understandably loath to lose them to men. But daughters have another value in that they can produce more children. S o before they leave home and start their own households, mothers still have hope. T hey can guide their daughters in successful sexual negotiations with men and in the process benefit from the children born in the interim. A nd it is here that we arrive at the key to under standing the perpetuation of gender relations in Jean Makout, what could be called a sexual-moral economy, something that begins with the fact that many Jean Makout girls are in fact reluctant to enter childbearing.UNWI LL ING MO T HERHOO D Young Jean Makout women pregnant for the first time commonly disavow their condition right up until the time their bulging stomachs make denial impossible. Others tie ribbons around their stomachs to conceal their condi tion. In my first experience with this in the summer of 1996, I took a con vulsing 16-year-old rural girl to the hospital. E ight months pregnant, she had concealed her condition by tying torn strips of cloth around her stomach. T he French doctor who treated her reported that the stomach tying almost killed the young woman. In May 1997, while I was in the Jean Makout village, a 15-year-old girl tried to abort an unwanted pregnancy by popping fourteen anti-malaria pills (chloroquin) into her mouth and washing them down with kleren (raw rum). An hour later, while she was at the spring waiting to fill a water bucket for the household, she fell dead. But there are tremendous social pressures that come to bear on young women reluctant to begin childbearing. A 25-year-old woman explained, my mother said that if she caught us taking birth control pills she would club us to death ( mama-m di si li jwenn nou pran gren li tap tiye nou anba baton ). S ocial pressures against abortion are equally strong. Mothers, grandmothers, sisters, and female friends are quick to condemn abortion as the greatest of
SUB S I ST ENCE SONG S IN JEAN MAKOU T, HAI T I 27 all sins ( pi gwo pech ) and counsel young girls against abortion by explain ing that it will rot their vaginal canals, making them disgusting to men. By law, women are supposed to be imprisoned for aborting pregnancies. In real ity imprisonment is rare, but women are, nevertheless, ridiculed and publicly disgraced. In an instance witnessed by a U S missionary working in the Jean Makout area, a 15-year-old girl who had allegedly aborted a fetus was tied to a post in a busy market while a civil servant spent his day standing nearby announcing her crime over a hand-held loudspeaker. In the spring of 1998, in the thatch-roofed, seaside hamlet of Makab, where this research began, fisher men found a fetus floating in the sea. T he news spread quickly and literally hundreds of people descended from the hills into the tiny village. T he police were summoned. Houses were searched, and eventually the still bleedi n g 16year-old mother was discovered hiding under a sheet in the corner of a friends house. A s the police led the humiliated girl away, the crowd of family, friends, and neighbors menacingly chanted her name, Viki! Viki! Viki! MO T HER S AN D CON T RO LEverybody in Jean Makout wants children, though this is most true of older people and especially older women. Fathers over 50 years of age were four times as likely to prefer six over three children than fathers under 35 years of age, (52 percent versus 13 percent); and for women this age-related prefer ence was 87 percent to 57 percent. A nd it is here more that anywhere else, that we find the key to control over the sexuality of young women. Unlike with sons, who are encouraged to aggressively pursue women, mothers tightly rule sexual access to daughters. Some prenuptial daughters who are not in school are forbidden to leave the homestead alone for any reason, not even to go to the water. Girls caught meeting with men in secret often suffer severe whippings. But the objective is not to keep the girl from getting pregnant. On the contrary. Mothers teach girls to revile contraceptives as dangerous and abortion as the greatest sin. They also misinform them about the processes of conception, telling them such things as they will likely get pregnant only if they have sex during menstruation. In the meantime, girls are instructed to tell flirtatious men to come to their mothers house where the mother can help decide if the man is a worthy choice. Once the mother has identi fied a suitor as credible, the man is made to feel welcome. He is invited to the house and deliberately left alone with the daughter for increasingly lengthy intervals. He may even begin to sleep over. T he diligent mother then carefully watches for signs of pregnancy, periodically probing the daughters genitals to see if the hymen has been perforated. T hus, women almost always bear their first, and sometimes the first several, children while living with their mothers. Fully 30 percent of all daughters over 14 years of age and still
28 TIMO T HY T. SCHWAR T Z living with their mother have borne one or more children; 22 percent of them have borne more than one; 13 percent have borne three or more. T he control wielded by mothers mother is manifest in the upbringing of the child. When a daughter bears a child while still living with her mother, it is her mother, the childs grandmother, who usually assumes the role of mother. While the real mother only breastfeeds the child or does mundane tasks such as cleaning up after him or her, the grandmother refers to the child as her own. And the child is taught to call her manman (mother) not gran (grandmother), while the mother is called by her first name as if she were the childs sister. E ven after the mother has moved out and plased with a man the grandmother often keeps the grandchild or several of the grandchildren. A ll the preceding control exercised by the mother over the daughter or surrogate daughter, the subsistence alliance between mothers and daughters, and the role of the mother in guiding a girls sexual conduct is celebrated in the following tat song: Heads together the time has already arrived Hand in hand until the time arrives My mother sent me to the river (to get water) In broad daylight, this man came to bluff me My mother sent me to get water and told me to hurry T he man came to fool me, he said S weetheart, I will give you a gold chain but you must not tell your mother so S weetheart, I will give you a gold ring but you must not tell your mother so A nd so I said to him, S weetheart, if you give me a gold chain I must tell my mother so S weetheart, if you give me a gold ring I must tell my mother so Tet ans a nm l a deja rive Min dans la min jiskask l a rive Se nan dlo maman-m voye mwen La jounen myseu sa vin pou-l blofe-m Se nan dlo maman-m voye m byen prese Myseu vin pou chaba-m Ti cheri, m-ap f-o kado yon chen an l fo-k ou pa di maman ou sa Ti cheri, m-a p f-o kado yon bag an l fo-k ou pa di maman ou sa Ti cheri, si ou fe-m kado yon chen an l fo-k mwen ka di maman-m sa Ti cheri, si ou fem kado yon bag an l fo-k mwen ka di maman-m sa
SUB S I ST ENCE SONG S IN JEAN MAKOU T, HAI T I 29 CONC L U S IONS ongs created by adolescent girls theater troupes in Jean Makout, Haiti, emphasize gender roles, the sexual relations of production, and the material conditions that establish the foundation of those social relations. T hose rela tions are linked in a political and economic negotiation, even struggle, in what could be called a sexual-moral economy. Men are taught to need sex while female sexual acquiescence is conceptualized as a service that should be remu nerated. S exual exchange itself can be understood as a representation and social reinforcement of the relations of production and reproduction. In Jean Makout men supply women with the means of production: households, gardens, and animals. But it is women who manage production and who monopolize repro duction. Perhaps related to a long history of male economic orientation out side the homestead including male wage migration women orchestrate household labor activities, they cook, clean, they harvest gardens, they even butcher livestock, and they exclusively control the sale of agricultural prod ucts on the local market. Women also retain control over reproduction in Jean Makout: they bear and rear children and in the process they exploit child labor to their advantage using it to accomplish household chores, rear animals, and plant gardens, freeing themselves to engage in regional commercial marketing activities. T he process is orchestrated largely by older mothers who through instilling values extend their control over reproduction to that of their young daughters, allowing them to determine the terms of sexual negotiation and put ting them on economically equal footing with men, indeed, often allowing women to economically dominate their spouses. T he actual unfolding of these ideals, the perpetuation of the social balance in power between the genders, between young and old, and the accomplish ment of economic goals of individuals involved are not in reality as neat as a mathematical formula. A s with cultural values and institutions in all societies, the ideal does not give way to perfect social order. For example, as seen, young women sometimes resist and succeed in concealing pregnancies by tying their stomachs or aborting children. T here is contradiction in women projecting the image of being hot and desirable while at the same time portraying them selves as not in need of sexual contact. But then that is exactly the point, what Karen R ichman called gendered capital in Haiti is a dynamic socially con structed field of competition. Having said that, the system is perhaps most remarkable, not for its exceptions, but the consistency between ideals and val ues as expressed in girls tat songs and actual domestic rights, duties, and divi sion of familial power. In concluding, I leave the reader with a final song:
30 TIMO T HY T. SCHWAR T Z T o the river I was going I heard the music playing T he braids on my head started coming undone Young women of Jean Makout, help me celebrate I dont see no reason to stay here in Jean Makout anymore If you see me come back carrying a gift It is for my mother Manman come and get it Mommy, mommy dear, here is a beautiful gift for you Mommy, mommy dear, I can never finish thanking you Bo rivie m ta prale M tande yon mizik kap jwe Chev nan tet detrasaye Ti medanm nan Jean Makout ede-m fete Mwen pa we rezon pou rete nan Jean Makout anko Si ou ta we m pote yon kado Se pou maman-m mwen pote-l Mama-m cheri vin pran nan min Mami, mami cheri, min yon bel kado mwen pote pou ou Mami, mami cheri, mwen pa ka fin di mesi
SUB S I ST ENCE SONG S IN JEAN MAKOU T, HAI T I 31 REFERENCE SDUANY, JORGE, 1984. Popular Music in Puerto R ico: T oward an A nthropology of Salsa Latin American Music Review 5:186-216. LOWENTHAL, IRA 1987. Marriage is 20, Children are 21: The Cultural Construction of C onjugality in R ural Haiti. PhD thesis, Johns Hopkins U niversity, Baltimore MD. RICHMAN, KAREN E., 2003. Miami Money and the Home Gal. Anthropology and Humanism 27(2):119-32. SCHWAR TZ, TIMOTHY T. 2000. Children are the Wealth of the Poor: High Fertility and the Organization of Labor in the Rural Economy of Jean Rabel, Haiti. PhD thesis, U niversity of Florida, Gainesville. 2004. Children are the Wealth of the Poor: Pronatalism and the Economic Utility of C hildren in Jean R abel, Haiti. Research in Economic Anthropology 22:61-105. SZWED, JOHN F 1970. Afro-American Musical Adaptation. In Norman F. Whitten & John F. Szwed (eds.), Afro-American Anthr opology: Contemporary Perspectives. New York: Free Press. TIMO T HY T. SCHWAR T Z8860 N.W. 102nd S treet Medley F L 33178, U S A
32 TIMO T HY T. SCHWAR T Z APP EN D IX For readers interested in a more detailed explanation of the research: I spent ten years working in the region, five years of which were fieldwork, includi n g one year of residence in a small fishing hamlet and four years of residence in Jean Makout farming and village communities as well as intermittent resi dence one of Haitis largest cities. Quantitative data is drawn from five sur veys that I carried out and a multitude of survey reports produced by interna tional development consultants and missionaries working in the region. The Nutritional, Health, Agricultural, Demographic, and Social (NHADS) Survey T he survey was initiated by three development organizations working in the area: PISANO (Projet Intgr de Scurit Alimentaire Nord-Ouest) funded by the German BMZ (German Federal Ministry for Economic Cooperation and Development), AAA (Agro-Action Allemande), also funded by the BMZ, and ID (Initiative Dveloppement) funded by the French government. T he goals of the survey were to 1) give a demographic overview of the com mune 2) provide nutritional, health, socioeconomic, and agricultural data which can be used to target development programs to appropriate areas, 3) provide baseline data with which the sponsoring organizations can evaluate the impact of their own development activities. T he survey design originally involved a 1-in-12 systematic random sam pling design but was modified to 1-in-14 households due to budget shortfalls. Originally the survey was meant to visit 1,667 households, but this number was reduced to 1,586 households. Further, the actual population of the com mune of Jean Makout turned out to be larger than anticipated. The larger population size meant that another 155 houses should have been surveyed. In total, 235 of a sample population of 1,823 households should have been sur veyed but were not. The total sample size ended up as 1,586 households; of this figure 46 households were either vacant or interviewers were never able to locate the necessary respondents for at least one of the questionnaires. The household head or spouse of the household head was the required respondent. In 4 percent of cases no household respondent was located. A household was defined as a building in which people sleep; household members were defined as people who reportedly sleep in the house more than they sleep elsewhere. All households in the commune (22,827) were counted and physically marked with a number. From the resulting lists, 1 in every 14 households was systematically chosen using a random starting point. Longitudinal and latitudinal coordinates of the selected households were subsequently recorded using global positioning system (GP S ) devices. Loading the information into SPSS spreadsheets involved some 1.5 million separate entries (observations). The original data entry was accomplished
SUB S I ST ENCE SONG S IN JEAN MAKOU T, HAI T I 33 in the first two weeks of December 1997 by the survey staff and secretaries working for the local NGOs. Data was subsequently entered a second time by the researcher and hired assistants during the period January to May 1998. The four other surveys, all funded by the College of Liberal Arts and Sciences, University of Florida, and a grant from the National Science Foundation, were: T he Opinion S urvey This survey involved revisiting 136, or approximately 9 percent, of the households in the Baseline Survey. Jean Makout was divided into 12 geo graphical zones, five zones were selected randomly and an approximately equal number of households were randomly chosen from each of the geo graphical clusters (~28 households per cluster). The sample was stratified by gender. In 68 cases the female household head or the spouse of the male head was interviewed and in 68 cases the male head or her spouse was inter viewed. There were two male interviewers and two female interviewers, all locally born and raised and hired based on competency demonstrated during the Baseline S urvey. Male interviewers visited male respondents and female interviewers visited female respondents. Only one respondent was chosen per household. A total of 9 days were spent in the field. Interviewers recorded responses to key questions on cassette tapes. The researcher traveled and stayed with the interviewers and, using the cassette recordings, monitored interviewer performance daily. T ranscription of the interviews began in the field and continued for several weeks after the survey ended. Fifty percent of the recorded interviews were reviewed; approximately 30 percent were transcribed. Household L abor Demands S urvey In an effort to develop ethnographically dependable profiles of household labor demands and needs, approximately 12 visits were made to each of five Jean Makout lokalits (rural neighborhoods). The lokalits were chosen for ecological variability: 1) dry foothill, 2) dry mountain, 3) humid mountain, 4) humid plain, and 5) dry coastal zone. One to three days were spent per visit in each lokalit Information was gathered by the old-fashioned anthro pological technique of hanging out, tagging along, watching, and whying people to the point of annoyance. L ivestock and Garden S urvey The Livestock and Garden Survey was carried out in two communities, one in a semi-humid mountainous community (n = 50) and another in a humid plain community (n = 56). T he goal was to measure the strength of the rela tionship between the number of children and the number of animals and gardens per household. T his survey was necessary because 1) it is important
34 TIMO T HY T. SCHWAR T Z to the thesis to provide a concrete measure of the role of children in house hold livelihood strategies (the relationship between the number of children present in particular households and the number of livestock and gardens tended by household members); 2) in the Baseline Survey and the Opinion Survey farmers gave obviously misleading reports regarding livestock and crop yields; and 3) it was discovered that respondents in the Baseline S urvey were including in their enumeration of household members children who were away at school in the village or in the city the inclusion of these chil dren misrepresented the actual number of available child laborers. In order to obtain dependable data, two communities were chosen not at random but because they were the home communities of a Baseline S urvey supervisors parents. T he supervisor and his family knew everyone in these two commu nities and was able to independently verify details relating to livestock, gar dens, and the number of children present in the house. E xpected crop yields were also measured during this survey. Polygyny S urvey Because it is known that de facto polygyny is widespread in the Jean Makout, it was hypothesized that past and present polygynous behavior of men is somehow related to the value of children and therefore an important issue in the research. But inquiry into trends in polygyny were inadequate l y addressed in both the Baseline and the Opinion surveys. In the Baseline S urvey, a question regarding current polygyny was included but there was no question regarding past polygyny. Past and present polygyny were measured during the Opinion Survey but only men were asked about past polygyny wives were not asked about their husbands past polygynous behavior and the sample was too small to give a statistically reliable image of polygyny over the course of a Jean Makout mans lifetime. Thus, a 300-respondent polygyny survey was carried out using the same supervisor and in the same two communities as the A nimal and Garden S urvey. T wo other small polygyny surveys were carried out, one focusing on 41 skilled craftsmen and another among 16 male shamans (known as bokors or alternatively hougans ). T he areas for these surveys were chosen as a matter of convenience. Being familiar with people in the area, I was able to confidently substantiate reports by consulting with more than one local informant. A dditional sources of information were: C linics and NGO R eports Data on interbirth intervals, contraceptive use, and health status were also garnered from local clinics, hospitals, churches, and NGOs working in the area. The most notable resource for regional health data was Faith Medical Clinic in Mare Rouge, physically outside the commune of Jean Makout but
SUB S I ST ENCE SONG S IN JEAN MAKOU T, HAI T I 35 with some 50 percent of its clientele coming from within the borders of the commune Healthcare workers with the French NGO ID also provided health information and made reports available, as did the directors of PI SA NO and AAA S taff at CARE International also provided access to reports and infor mation on food-aid and ongoing projects. There were three survey reports that were especially important for com parison and validation of the data collected in the field. CARE International had previously performed two large surveys in the region. The first, con ducted in 1994, was a 1,400-household, 26-cluster random survey covering the entire northwest dpartement of Haiti (which includes Jean Makout). The second CARE survey, in 1996, was a follow-up to the earlier survey. PISANO implemented a 1,300-household, five-cluster random survey in 1990, that largely covered the commune of Jean Makout. T he references for the respective survey reports can be found in S chwartz 2000.
JORGE LUI S CHINEAFRA N C OPHOBI A A ND I N TER IMP ER I AL P O L I T I CS IN LATE B O UR BON PUERT O RI C O : TH E DU K E OF C R I LL N Y MA H N S FA I LE D NE GO T I AT ION S WI T H T H E SP A NI S H C R OWN 1776-1796 C ommenting on the poor state of the Puerto R ican economy, A lejandro O R eillys 1765 memoria brought to light the islands vast, untilled lands and tropical climate but decried the absence of agricultural exploitation. T o remedy this, he called upon the establishment of a few wealthy men capable of setting up sugarmills [as] indispensable for the prompt development of this island (O R eilly 1972:394). T he colonists, he added, should be granted land in propor tion to the slaves and dependents they bring along. By such means, he sought to emulate nearby S aint C roix, a Danish colony that had experienced remarkable economic development after adopting a similar plan (O R eilly 1972:391-95). T he clergyman-historian Iigo A bad y L asierra could not agree more. In 1788, he urged S pain to finance the transport of colonists to the Hispanic C aribbean and to furnish them with land, tools, and seeds. In his opinion, the duty-free import of slaves was just as crucial ( A bbad y L asierra 1959:165). A nother observer concurred, noting that slave-holding colonists would be especially valuable since scarcely half a dozen persons in Puerto R ico [were] able to pur chase twenty negroes each ( A imes 1907:41-42). S pains C ouncil of the Indies summed up consensus when it declared that, no agricultural establishment can be undertaken in A merica ... without the funds to clear, sow and cultivate the land, and to support the [farmers] until their toil yields harvests to be free from debt and subsist on their own. 1In S panish royal circles, the notion that the economic fate of the Hispanic Caribbean rested on the infusion of external human and material resources was problematic. Spain had not been able to fill these needs, but securing them by embracing foreign colonization and mercantile schemes could leave 1 [ R eal] A cademia de la Historia to the Principe de la Paz, c. 1797, leg. 2378, S eccin de Santo Domingo (henceforth Santo Domingo), Archivo General de Indias (henceforth A GI), S eville, S pain. New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007):37-54
38 JORGE LUI S CHINEA the Indies exposed to rival E uropean powers. In 1776 and 1783, the S panish Crown experimented by offering land and other incentives to Irish and French Catholics from the nearby non-Hispanic Caribbean willing to relo cate to the sparsely populated and economically marginal colony of T rinidad. Regulations were put into place to attract safe, economically viable colo nists and simultaneously deter undesirable ones from slipping into Spanish soil. As a result of this effort, the last two decades of Spanish colonial rule (circa 1777-1797) witnessed a monumental demographic and economic boom. T rinidads population expanded from 3,432 to 17,718 and the value of its agricultural exports increased from 3,000 to 1,588,000 pesos (Newson 1979:139, 147). Unfortunately for Spain, England seized T rinidad in 1797. No new ventures of such a scale would be undertaken before the implemen tation in Puerto R ico of the 1815 Cdula de Gracias ( C hinea 2005). In contrast to T rinidad, S panish policy toward foreigners in late eigh teenth-century Puerto R ico was very restrictive. T he S panish C rown issued residential permits and/or free land grants to a handful of enterprising for eign immigrants, such as Jaime ODaly, the C ount of Delage, Duke of Havre de C roy, A ndres Juan de la R ocque, the brothers Julio and E nrique ONeill, Juan Jaboco Gahn, and T homas A rmstrong. A 1778 royal cdula also autho rized planters in Puerto R ico to recruit a limited number of skilled, C atholic workers with training in plantation agriculture from the nearby non-Hispanic C aribbean. S ome of these cases, or others similar to them, have been widely noted in the published historical literature. 2 On the other hand, several obscure requests for setting up foreign-controlled operations in Puerto R ico during this period remain largely overlooked. A mong them are proposals for establishing colonias of Germans, Franco-Dominguans, and Irish C atholics, some of which also solicited slave trading and mercantile privileges (Hull 1980:167). 3 T his essay explores one of these lesser-known projects: L ouis Balbes des Bertons failed attempt to persuade the Spanish Crown to grant him liberal commercial and colonizing concessions in Puerto Rico. Known mostly by his title as the Duke of C rilln y Mahn, Balbes des Berton was an aristocrat who sought to get rich in the Indies. In 1776, the Spanish monarch Charles III granted him a substantial donation of land in Puerto Rico, together with the right to import the necessary equipment and technical personnel to put it into cultivation. The significance and controversial character of this case many be gleaned from the multiple, copious dossiers it generated. T hey con tain much information about the allocation, dimensions, appraisal, type, con dition, location, and potential utility of the lands in question, all of which 2 S ee, for example, Pic 1986:142. 3 Knight of Losevil to King, April 13, 1789, leg. 2393, Santo Domingo, AGI; petition of Jacques Concanon, 1761, leg. 6948, exp. 11, Seccin de Estado (henceforth Estado), A G S ; petition of Juan T uite, leg. 6961, exp. 14, E stado, A G S
FRANCO P HOBIA AN D IN T ERIM P ERIA L PO L I T IC S IN BOURBON PUER T O RICO 39 sheds light on agrarian conditions in Puerto Rico at that time. Perhaps for this reason, most investigators have focused too narrowly on that angle and ignored the larger colonial and interimperial context in which the Spanish C rown weighed such proposals. 4BOURBON REFORMI S M AN D AGRICU LT URA L EX PL OI T A T IONT he C rilln affair is a direct outcome of a series of eighteenth-century reorga nizational measures that would come to be known collectively as the Bourbon reforms. Designed to overhaul the Spanish American colonial empire, the program of renewal focused special attention on those regions most vulner able to foreign intrusions and least able to cover their administrative and military upkeep. Early eighteenth-century Puerto Rico matched this profile. In the aftermath of the Caribbean phase of the Spanish exploration, con quest, and colonization in the Americas, the island became little more than a penal colony, defensive post, and refueling station for the Spanish naval convoys. A s S panish colonization shifted to the mineral enclaves of Mexico and Peru, E ngland, Denmark, France, and Holland gradually carved out their own colonies in the Caribbean. For the next two hundred years, they seized the Bahamas chain, Jamaica, western Hispaniola, and the eastern Antilles. Concurrently, illegal, widespread trading between the British, French, and Dutch Caribbean and the Spanish colonies developed (Lpez 1980:25-47). In 1762 the British occupied Havana, gaining temporary control of a major Spanish military bastion in the Caribbean and disrupting mercantile opera tions centered on the port city. The Bourbon reforms sought to put an end to such territorial and eco nomic encroachments and bring these peripheral areas into closer alignment with Spanish imperial objectives. Its telltale signs in Puerto Rico, particu larly after about 1750, could not be more clear: concerted efforts to promote the commercial cultivation of tobacco, coffee, sugar, and other cash crops; stepped-up attempts to eradicate vagrancy, apprehend deserters and maroons, and immobilize and harness the labor of artisans and peasants; accelerated urbanization; large-scale importation of bonded African workers; generous immigration incentives extended to politically safe foreigners; crackdown on illegal traders; reorganization of island militias and updating of defen sive fortifications; statistical and scientific studies of the islands natural and 4 See Coll y T oste 1914:280-81; Caro de Delgado 1963; Szszdi 1962:161; Gil-Ber mejo Ga r ca 1970:301-19; Godreau & Giusti 1993:488, 493-94; Mo s c o so 1999:245.
40 JORGE LUI S CHINEA human resources; and the implementation of fiscal and mercantile regula tions to bind Puerto R ico tighter to the Hispanic A merican economy. 5BACKGROUN D T O T HE LAN D GRAN TUnprecedented changes of this magnitude on an island long coveted by Spains European rivals for its central Caribbean location and fertile soil were bound to attract considerable attention (Morales Carrin 1974:60-61, 72-73). Lured by the prospects of fat profits, a trickle of enterprising colo nists from Europe and the Lesser Antilles set out for the Spanish Antilles to invest in commercial agriculture. The Duke of Crilln y Mahn was one of the prominent fortune seekers of this age. French by nationality and Italian by heritage, Crilln was born in 1717. He joined the Spanish military in 1758 and enjoyed the rank of T eniente General in 1775. A warded the Gran Cruz de la Orden de Carlos III in 1781, a year later he retook the Spanish Mediterranean island-colony of Menorca, which the British had wrested from Spain during the War of Spanish Succession. In addition to possessing the duchy of Mahn and the aristocratic title of Grande de Espaa de Primera Clase he served as Captain General of Valencia and Murca from 1785 to his death in 1796 (T errn Ponce 1998:14-23). T oward the end of his life, he authored a book recounting his military career ( C rilln 1791). Desiring to contribute to the greater wellbeing of the state as a loyal vas sal of His Majesty, hence applying his assets to promote agriculture, in late 1775 the duke petitioned the Crown for land in Santo Domingo. He asked for six leguas of land around the Hispaniola regions of Neiba, Gonaive, and Monte Christi all near the border with French Saint Domingue. These regions, he maintained, were sparsely settled and abandoned because their settlers had no means, skills, or inclination to make them productive, or no one legitimately owned them. T o this end, he proposed relocating to Santo Domingo at his expense to set an example of hard work and simultaneously place secured limits on the border with French S aint Domingue. 6Judging by the negative reaction of the Spanish Crown, Crilln misper ceived the political climate of interimperial relations in the C aribbean. S pain had been concerned for some time with French expansionism in Hispaniola. What began in the middle of the seventeenth century as a buccaneers nest in the western tip of Hispaniola, the French enclave of Saint Domingue, 5 T orres Ramrez 1968; Cambre Mario 1972; Fisher 1981; Gonzlez Vales 1983; R omn Gutirrez 1998; GonzlezR ipoll Navarro 1999:45-77. 6 C rilln to King of S pain, leg. 464, December 4, 1775, S eccin de U ltramar (henceforth Ultramar), AGI; leg. 26, Archivo Campomanes (henceforth Campomanes), Fundacin U niversitaria E spaola, Madrid, S pain.
FRANCO P HOBIA AN D IN T ERIM P ERIA L PO L I T IC S IN BOURBON PUER T O RICO 41 eventually occupied just about a third of the island. Unable to effectively check this advance, the S panish C rown resorted to limiting or barring further foreign settlement. In 1686, 1694, and 1701, the Council cited the need to safeguard the S panish A merican trade in blocking Flemish and Irish families from settling Hispaniola (Gutierrez Escudero 1983:58-61). Just five years before C rillns request, it also rejected the Frenchman Francisco L e-Negres project for settling 12,000 foreign colonists in Hispaniola. In making this determination, the council claimed that the L e-Negres offer further corrobo rated Frances aim of taking over the entire island. 7S ince C rillns request came just as S pain was conferring with France over competing territorial claims in Hispaniola, the C ouncil of the Indies expressed reservations about his timing. T he likelihood that it was a French ploy to grab additional land before the frontier disputes were officially settled did not go unnoticed. T he council wondered how the dukes plan to seal off six leguas would protect a border that was one hundred and fifty leguas in length. Besides, the L aws of the Indies banned foreigners from settling near fron tiers and port regions. T he body conceded that S anto Domingo desperate l y needed agricultural workers and other forms of assistance, but concluded that approving the C rilln proposal would only reinforce the French position. It pointed out that although the duke named his S panish wife and children as beneficiaries of the grant, it was entirely possible for his relatives in France to inherit the properties in their absence. Furthermore, the council was not prepared to displace the local inhabitants by giving away their lands to a for eigner by origin, another clear indication that non-Hispanic colonization in threatened regions of the Indies would not be tolerated. However, in recogni tion of his naturalized S panish status and military record, the council gave him the option of choosing land away from the disputed zone or in nearby Puerto R ico. 8 A lthough Puerto R ico was adjacent to Hispaniola, S pain did not consider it as much an imminent target of French imperial designs in the C aribbean (Gutierrez E scudero 1983:58-64; see also S evilla S oler 1980). C rilln picked Puerto R ico, and at once asked for four leguas among the terrenos realengos (state-owned plots) closest to the port city of San Juan that would be suitable for growing sugar, coffee, indigo, and other crops. T he C rown issued him the land grant on S eptember 25, 1776. In accordance with the L aws of the Indies, the concession was not to infringe on the rights of private parties or communal grounds and could not be allocated near port areas. Moreover, it required that foreigners brought to work the land meet 7 C ouncil of the Indies to King, March 29, 1776 and multiple expedientes dated c. 17761779, leg. 464, U ltramar, A GI; there are additional expedientes on C rilln, dated c. 17791789, in legs. 2368 and 2393, S anto Domingo, A GI. 8 Apuntaciones del expediente del Duque de C rilln (undated), leg. 26, C ampomanes; King to Duke of C rilln, A pril 11, 1776, leg. 464, U ltramar, A GI.
42 JORGE LUI S CHINEA the conditions for obtaining residence and naturalization, as the case might be. They were not to engage in commerce or any other activity normally forbidden to aliens, except agriculture. The Crown directed the governor of Puerto R ico to assign C rilln the lands with the previous concurrence of the San Juan city council. He was given one year to farm the land. Failing that, the land would revert to the Crown. Only Roman Catholics who pledged allegiance to Spain would be allowed to settle in Puerto Rico to work on or look after the dukes estates. T he C rilln grant came on the heels of a land reform program that started in 1735 when the Spanish Crown began looking closely at agricultural land use in Puerto R ico. S ince then, a policy of confiscating and redistributing fal low lots among those willing and able to farm them commercially gradually emerged. Intended to increase agricultural exports, this revenue-generating strategy culminated in a 1778 cdula that granted islanders legal titles to the lands they had previously occupied. The process of measuring, parceling out lots, and awarding titles went on throughout the second half of the eigh teenth century as hateros (cattle ranchers) and estancieros (farmers) waged legal battles over control of the land (Gil-Bermejo Garca 1970:275-76, 303; Moscoso 1999:119-246). C rilln saw in the 1778 decree and related Bourbon measures to revitalize the Hispanic C aribbean economy a fitting opportunity to press for additional or supplementary concessions that he believed to be compatible with the spirit of the imperial overhaul. Accordingly, he sought to clarify what his grant actually entailed in order to uphold the royal intent and preclude any potential misunderstandings later on. S ince the C rown had granted him four leguas en cuadro he reasoned that each measured one legua in length by one legua in width. Hence, he asked that the Crown declare that his grant com prised sixteen squared leguas in total. Next, he pointed out that the vast size of his donation would necessitate additional time and effort before he could place the lands under cultivation. Therefore, he requested that the one-year time limit for tilling them start once he broke ground. T he duke also found the word successors employed in the grant language to be ambiguous, since it was often applied only to relatives as opposed to conventional heirs. For that reason, he also asked that the C rown unequivo cally affirm his right to do whatever he pleased with his properties, including his right to name any representatives be they relatives or not as long as they met all the other criteria stipulated in the grant. T o this effect, he indicated that the French Guyanese C ompany was ready to finance and administer the proj ect and that he had secured the colonos needed to farm the estates. T o reassure both parties, he outlined what historian A R C aro de Delgado (1963) has cor rectly labeled as an ill-advised, ostentatious attempt to transform the land grant into his private feudal state. In essence, his plan called for selling the lands in smaller lots to either S panish or foreign colonists, over whom the duke would
FRANCO P HOBIA AN D IN T ERIM P ERIA L PO L I T IC S IN BOURBON PUER T O RICO 43 exercise certain rights. For instance, the colonists would be free to sell their lands to whomever they wished but not before notifying C rilln or his succes sors, who would have a preferential option to re-acquire the properties. T hey would also have to agree to purchase all agricultural implements and slaves from the duke and to pay him an annual tribute to be determined at the time of contract. C rilln asked for the unprecedented right to erect churches within his domain, to appoint all ecclesiastical personnel, and to exempt his colonos from military service for a twenty-five-year period. THE S E T Y P E S OF WORKER S ARE T HE FUN D AMEN T A L BA S E OF FARMING IN T HE AMERICA SWith these words, Crilln broached the subject of bonded Africans, which had made it possible for Saint Domingue and much of the eastern Antilles to fill the European and North American demand for sugar, coffee, and a variety of other tropical staples. Servile labor had also been used exten sively in the Hispanic Caribbean during the short-lived mining boom of the early sixteenth century. It resurfaced gradually in the 1700s, but for a variety of reasons none of the early eighteenth-century attempts to fill the growing demand for African captives in Spanish America proved satisfac tory. Wartime conditions hindered the S paniard Miguel Iriartes 1760 asiento or slave importation contract calling for the delivery of 15,000 captives to the Hispanic Caribbean over a ten-year period. A new agreement signed in 1765 and modified in 1768 transferred the asiento to the Aguirre-Aristgui Company (which became known as the Compaa de Asiento de Negros ), co-owned by Iriarte and several other business associates. The new accord set aside 500 to 600 slaves to Puerto R ico, which was designated as the main depot for slave shipments to other S panish A merican destinations. T he part nership landed just over 12,500 captives in S an Juan between 1766 and 1770, but nearly all were sold outside Puerto R ico (Daz S oler 1970:84-90). 9 T he duke recounted how S pains determined efforts to promote agricultural production in Puerto R ico had been unsuccessful. It chartered the Barcelona C ompany in the 1750s, endowing it with special privileges, to encourage Puerto R ican growers to ship their products on S panish carriers. But the enter prise could not stay afloat when the projected volume of agricultural exports proved insufficient for investors to make a profit. T he Compaa de Asiento de Negros preferred to sell slaves on a cash basis, a practice that prevented most planters in Puerto R ico from buying them. Poor sales in Puerto R ico were a 9 Mapa Abreviado de los Negros introducidos en Puerto Rico por el Asiento ... de Aguirre Arstegui y Compaa ... 1766 [to] 1770 ... March 25, 1772, leg. 2516, Santo Domingo, A GI.
44 JORGE LUI S CHINEA major consideration in the decision to transfer its operations to Havana, which had a larger, more lucrative slave market. He believed that such obstacles could ultimately cripple, if not destroy, his future agricultural project. First, he would have to inform the Compaa each and every time he wished to purchase slaves, sell his crops in anticipation to have the currency at hand to make the transaction, and wait until enough buyers in Puerto R ico placed similar orders to sway the slave-trading contractors to make a stop in S an Juan. He therefore requested authorization to import the slaves on his own. T he Compaa would suffer no adverse consequences, he declared, since his slave-trading permit would add the advantage ... of promoting the cultivation of the island, and thus [trigger] a greater consumption of slaves. 10 It seems that nothing came out of the above appeal, or perhaps the C rown purposely ignored it, prompting the duke to repeat it two years later. T his time he submitted a detailed, five-chapter proposal to cover all facets of his slave trading project, such as its organization, administration, and security. C hapter four dealt specifically with the exploitation of captives in agricultural work. T hey are to till the land ... [their acquisition] is ... one of the most indispensab l e elements ... for the success [of his agricultural enterprise]. 11 T o ensure the right number, quality, and price of slaves, C rilln asked the C rown for authorization, effective May 1, 1779, to import into Puerto R ico under foreign flag the number of slaves considered necessary for the use of his plantation and those of his colonos and farmers. 12 A lthough the C rown had granted individual slave-trading licenses to selective planters in the past, as of 1779 it was still under contract with the Compaa de Negros E ven if the C rown had been willing to grant an exception, C rilln further requested the right to sell any spare slaves to other parties in Puerto R ico, as well as to the other S panish A merican colonies. In essence, the duke sought to transform the original land grant intended specifically to boost royal revenues in a marginal S panish colony into his private asiento Having laid out his case for A frican slavery, C rilln then proceeded to spell out how he would manage the bonded workers, whom he described by nature of a harsh, bad condition and inclined in the extreme to gossip, idleness and laziness, and even ... to savagery and cruelty. 13 He believed that such traits, when combined with the disproportionately small number of Whites, usually not more than the four or five that typically led and lived with crews of two hundred or more slaves, would endanger the entire operation. Whites might be placed in harms way unless the captives were infused [with] a certain kind of terror [, a] panic to frighten and subordinate them to the proper obedience 10. C rilln to King of S pain, S an Ildefonso, S eptember 23, 1776, leg. 464, U ltramar, A GI. 11. C rilln to King of S pain, Madrid, July 30, 1778, leg. 464, fol. 158, U ltramar, A GI. 12. C rilln to King of S pain, Madrid, July 30, 1778, leg. 464, fols. 158-59, U ltramar, A GI. 13. C rilln to King of S pain, Madrid, July 30, 1778, leg. 464, fol. 160, U ltramar, A GI.
FRANCO P HOBIA AN D IN T ERIM P ERIA L PO L I T IC S IN BOURBON PUER T O RICO 45 and subjection. 14 A rguing that it was in the masters best interests to ensure the welfare of their slaves, he would discipline them prudently and discreetly according to their unique temperaments. Nevertheless, many would still refuse to work, fear, and respect their masters or complain to the authorities when reproved for disobeying orders. T o prevent such grave inconveniences, he asked that no slave grievances against masters be admitted by the courts of jus tice for the first fifteen years, until they have given proof of their domesticity and [work?] regularity. 15 In the meantime they would live under the immedi ate supervision of an adjudicator within the estate and were required to abide by a new set of rules that C rilln would implement as he saw fit. S ince bozales ( A frican-born captives) would undergo a seasoning process and extensive training in all aspects of plantation production, he expected them to appreciate fourfold or even higher in value over time. C onsidering the additional money and time used up to transform the so-called brutes to manageable, skilled individuals, selling or redeeming them at their original purchase price would turn masters into mere educators or trainers of slaves for someone elses benefit. He reasoned that this might happen under the current system of coartacin or self-purchase, which could motivate slaves acting out of self-interest, revenge, greed, or those seeking to emulate others to avail themselves of this provision. T herefore, he asked that his slaves be exempted from the self-emancipation regulations for the first twenty-five years. 16T hirty-two articles dealt specifically with the sale of the captives. C rilln asked to be allowed to conduct his slave-trading business for a twenty-fiveyear period. T o this end, he offered to establish a slave depot together with housing units, medical facilities, and provision grounds in Puerto Rico. Commissioned Spanish and foreign ships would haul in the captives to be sold on credit, cash, or in exchange for local products to the estates owned by Crilln, his colonos private parties on the island, or to other parts of Spanish America. He also requested that the captives and their supplies be exempted from the various import and sales duties, except for a one-time, all-inclusive two percent tax. T he duke would have the option of selling cap tives to foreigners in the event sales in the Spanish colonies sagged. These transactions would be governed by the regulations of 1778 comercio libre (free trade) which sought to increase Spains economic participation in its A merican colonies (see Fisher 1992 and S onesson 2002:32-33). Francisco de Llano y San Gins, a resident of the Spanish port city of Cdiz, was to have oversight over the entire slave-trading business. 17 14. C rilln to King of S pain, Madrid, July 30, 1778, leg. 464, fol. 160, U ltramar, A GI. 15. C rilln to King of S pain, Madrid, July 30, 1778, leg. 464, fol. 161, U ltramar, A GI. 16. C rilln to King of S pain, Madrid, July 30, 1778, leg. 464, U ltramar A GI. 17 Crilln to King, Madrid, July 31, 1778 and December 30, 1778, leg. 464, Ultramar, A GI.
46 JORGE LUI S CHINEA ME T RO P O L I T AN OVER S EER S IN T ERVENET he C rown forwarded the request to the Junta de Provisin General de Negros a ministerial committee that dealt with matters pertaining to the slave trade in S panish A merica. T he Junta characterized C rillns new demands as so warped that they not only inflate and deform the essence of his claims, but also the manner in which they are proposed, and misrepresent the substance of the [original land] concession. 18 A lthough the dukes plan treated both the subject of his land grant and planned slave-trading project at length, the C ouncil focused almost all of its sharp criticism on the land donation. A mong other things, it accused C rilln of running away from his responsibilities to the grant; substituting operarios (workers) with colonos (colonists), and thus altering the grants language and intent; further contravening the provisions and spirit of the 1778 cdula which required all newly titled proprietors to farm their land within one year of taking possession; twisting the language of his grant in an attempt to grab more land than was originally allotted to him; making ill-timed demands, including a request to purchase additional land that went against the royal order of dividing up the territory of Puerto R ico among as many farmers as possible; attempting to establish mayorazgos or entailed estates, without royal authorization and in which he would have sole feudal power; illegally seeking to transfer his business interests in Puerto R ico to the French Guyanese C ompany, a foreign-owned enterprise for whom the [Kings] subjects would become mere dayworkers; 19 and trying to take over the entire land mass of Puerto R ico, thus depriving His Majesty of a key defensive post in the A mericas. 20 In contrast to the heavy-handedness noted above, the panel simply dis missed his attempt to slip in a request for slave trading privileges as inadmis sible at this time. 21 Hence, it did not address any of the dukes clauses pertain ing to the acquisition, transportation, sale, and treatment of captives. 22 It is very odd, it went on, that the duke would want to become a slave trader. 23 18. [Junta de Provisin General de Negros] to King of S pain, Madrid, S eptember 6, 1779, leg. 464, fols. 212-13, U ltramar, A GI. 19. [Junta de Provisin General de Negros] to King of S pain, Madrid, S eptember 6, 1779, leg. 464, fols. 220-21, U ltramar, A GI. 20. T he firm in question is likely the C ompany of the C oast of A frica, which was renamed the Guyana C ompany in 1776 ( T homas 1997:277). 21. [Junta de Provisin General de Negros] to King of S pain, Madrid, S eptember 6, 1779, leg. 464, fols. 223, U ltramar, A GI. 22. For information on the Crowns attempt to regulate the treatment of slaves, see the aborted 1784 Cdigo Carolino discussed by L ucena S almoral 1996:18-19. 23. [Junta de Provisin General de Negros] to King of S pain, Madrid, S eptember 6, 1779, leg. 464, fols. 223, U ltramar, A GI.
FRANCO P HOBIA AN D IN T ERIM P ERIA L PO L I T IC S IN BOURBON PUER T O RICO 47 He was directed to formalize it separately from the land grant, leave out other interested parties, and abide by the procedures established for such purposes. In the meantime, he would have to acquire slaves as everyone else in Puerto R ico did, presumably through the Compaa de Asiento de Negros In sum, the Junta concluded that, T his petition harbors grave inconveniences, and there is no instance of a like concession, neither in S pain nor in the Indies, undoubt edly because of its harmful effect on our constitution. 24 S ince the governor of Puerto R ico had not yet allocated him the full donation, the Junta advised the C rown to give C rilln a two-year extension, which was to take effect in 1784, to put all his lands under cultivation. 25 Despite the pointed rebuff, the duke pressed on. On September 1784, he applied for and received permission to let his French agents S antiago A lfonse and Simn Esteban LeBlanc relocate to Puerto Rico from Saint Domingue with two retainers, thirty slaves, and some plantation equipment. Not long thereafter, he resubmitted the previously rejected petition to allow him to transfer some of his properties to third parties, so long as they were Roman Catholics and pledged allegiance to Spain, and asked for authorization to export timber harvested on his properties that was not needed in Puerto R ico. The former was denied again and the latter tabled until officials in Puerto Rico assigned Crilln his entire donation and finalized the general distribu tion of terrenos realengos incultos (untilled lands), and baldos (unoccupied or untitled lands), which was moving at a snails pace. Three years later, in 1787, he asked the Crown to extend him a loan, repayable in three to four years, to help get his agricultural project off the ground. The council expressed serious reservations about the subsidy. It observed that he had brought in only five workers of the anticipated 400 to 500 needed to tend to his four leguas but had imported plenty of plantation implements and supplies duty-free while continuing to give top priority to his other holdings in Saint Domingue. Besides, it considered the amount of the loan insufficient to accomplish his objectives. In the opinion of the C ouncil, his track record so far strongly suggested that he might just default on the loan and use it as yet another excuse for delaying farming his lands. A s with earlier requests, this one was also turned down. 26 S eemingly disregarding the aforementioned, on May 31, 1789 he re-sub mitted the loan request disguised as a petition for a 60,000 peso line of credit to buy 300 bozales for his lands in Puerto Rico. In support of the advance, 24. [Junta de Provisin General de Negros] to King of S pain, Madrid, S eptember 6, 1779, leg. 464, fols. 224, U ltramar, A GI. 25. C ouncil of the Indies to the governor of Puerto R ico, S an L orenzo, October 14, 1779, leg. 464, Ultramar, AGI; Junta de [Provisin General de] Negros to King, September 6, 1779, leg. 2393, S anto Domingo, A GI. 26. C ouncil of the Indies resolution, May 20, 1792, leg. 464, U ltramar, A GI.
48 JORGE LUI S CHINEA which he promised to reimburse in six years, he cited a royal decree of A pril 12, 1786 by which the Crown agreed to bankroll the acquisition of 1,500 African captives for settlers in Santo Domingo. The Crown acknowledged the purchase but explained that it was executed with the slave-trading firm of Baker and Dawson, whose contract with the Real Hacienda had since expired. In either case, a subsequent 1789 decree liberalized slave trading with Spanish America, rendering state intervention in this matter unneces sary. Besides, the outlay might prompt other equally deserving landowners to seek similar concessions. But before the C rown could notify C rilln that his loan application had been denied, he took the impulsive step of forwarding it an addendum outlining a loan repayment schedule! 27 S ensing that C rilln was quickly running out of options and that the dona tion was on the verge of expiring, the C ouncil asked for an update on the grant from Puerto R icos governor, Juan Dabn y Noguera. T he official replied that he had been taking legal steps to expedite the Crilln donation when the C rown appointed Julin Daz de S aravia, fiscal from the A udiencia of S anto Domingo, to oversee the land distribution program mandated by the 1778 cdula He conveyed the Councils directive to Saravia, who immediately set to work on his commission. T he thick, forested, and impenetrable nature of the terrain, constant rains, demarcation hurdles, and the lack of trained surveying personnel and equipment hindered his effort. Saravia estimated that it would take four years to complete the job. But after only eight months of measuring and parceling out lots in the settlements of Humacao, Fajardo, and Loza, Saravia was promoted to the Audiencia of Caracas and abruptly left Puerto R ico. Before departing, he reported that C rillns lands in the said towns consisted of forty three caballeras of which fifteen were located in Humacao and thirty in Fajardo. Of these, the first fifteen in Humacao had been officially handed over to his agent Santiago Alfonse in late October 1786. T he dukes representative began farming but pulled back claiming that C rilln had yet to deliver the additional funds that he had promised. 28 Frustrated with the meager results, the duke fired back. On March 28, 1792, he complained to the Crown that the real hold-off stemmed from the multiple surveying snags and suspension of the Saravia assignment. He 27. [Exmo Sr. Baylio Fray Don Antonio Valdes y Bazn?] to Duke of Crilln, June 22, 1789, leg. 2368, S anto Domingo, A GI. 28. Council of the Indies resolution, May 20, 1792, leg. 464, Ultramar, AGI. Since one caballera equals about 200 acres or the same in cuerdas by that measurement the dukes donation may have been about 18,500 cuerdas T hat quantity harmonizes with the figure of 19,000 cuerdas given in Caro de Delgados essay (1963:62-63) but is far below the 40,000 cuerdas reported in the work by Godreau & Giusti (1993:488). Islandwide, his donation totaled between 85 and 94 caballeras spread out in the towns of Naguabo, Fajardo, L uquillo, L oza, Isabela, and Pepino (Gil-Bermejo Garca 1970:316).
FRANCO P HOBIA AN D IN T ERIM P ERIA L PO L I T IC S IN BOURBON PUER T O RICO 49 also pointed the finger at Alfonse, to whom he had allegedly delivered over 150,000 pesos over a fourteen-year period. Unfortunately for Crilln, the agent passed away in 1790 without advancing the project or taking ownership of the whole four leguas Notwithstanding the setbacks, the duke managed to line up an affluent business partner and a new designee to get back on track. In order to go forward, he asked the Crown to approve a new, eleven-point proposal based on royal cdulas that sought to revamp T rinidads economy and authorized the importation of enslaved Africans into Spanish America. In it, he repeated many of the same demands that the Council of the Indies had already rejected, such as permission to sell or transfer his properties to Spanish and foreign parties, recruit colonos overseas and collect personal tribute from them, and import slaves duty-free for a decade, that is, for four more years beyond the six-year window of opportunity decreed on November 24, 1791. 29 Now, he also solicited that his trustees, consignees, and colonos be exempted from all obligations to the state for the same interval, and be allowed to acquire provisions, agricultural implements, and ships either in S pain, its colonies, or in foreign markets. Despite his tenacity, metropolitan watchdogs resisted all attempts to sur render treasured ecclesiastical prerogatives, confer feudal rights akin to the then-extinguished encomienda and grant extraordinary exemptions from taxes and military services. A s the C ouncil of Indies observed, such conces sions would have given C rilln a considerable, unfair advantage over all other Spanish subjects and would shortchange the royal coffers. The Council of S tate concurred, adding that he could sell his lands only to foreign C atholics who took up residence in the S panish dominions. It directed the governor of Puerto R ico to finalize allocating the dukes grant within two years and gave Crilln four years from that point forward to cultivate the estates or forfeit them. In the event the governor could not find enough land to complete the full donation, it suggested transferring the deed to either southern Guyana or T rinidad. C rilln eventually pursued one of these options by filing a peti tion for a concession of land in T rinidad shortly after the 1783 Cdula de Poblacin y Comercio (literally, a decree for the promotion of colonization and commerce) was made public (see Borde 1982:214). Once again, however, the Council of State rejected the dukes plea to obtain the same special economic and political incentives given to foreign immigrants in T rinidad. Those concessions, the panel argued, were specific to the unique circumstances of the eastern Caribbean island which, unlike Puerto Rico, was nearly deserted. The Council of the Indies went even fur ther. It called attention to a recent royal order forbidding the settlement of citizens of Great Britain, Holland, and Denmark in C uba, and recommended that the ruling be put into operation to Puerto R ico and applied to French sub 29. S pains slave-trading efforts for this period are discussed in Daz S oler (1953:84-99).
50 JORGE LUI S CHINEA jects as well. By contrast, the Council of State found his request for extend ing the royal dispensation to import slaves from six to ten years reasonable as long as it was not abused. He could haul in as many bozales as he needed for his lands, but not for speculation. 30 The Crown relayed its decision to Crilln on July 19, 1792, but to its surprise he continued to pursue the matter. On May 15, 1793, he proposed selling one-half of his grant in Puerto Rico to the Barcelona-based British company of Herries, Keith, and Stembor. The firm reputedly could muster 600,000 pesos by floating six hundred stocks valued at 1,000 pesos a piece to both S panish citizens and foreigners. T he C rown would have to agree not to seize the companys assets for twenty-one years, even during wartime. In turn, the firm would dispatch three representatives in Puerto R ico to farm the land, import the necessary equipment and slaves, and ship out the agricultural products to Barcelona on private or chartered ships. It would pay out annual dividends of up to ten percent to each stockholder. Of the balance, one-third of the profits would be turned over to Crilln and the rest reinvested in the company. T he C rown declined his latest offer. 31 CONC L U S ION S Despite two decades of unrelenting planning, proposal writing, and countless appeals, C rilln died in 1796 before he could plow his fields or carry out any of his other related ventures. T he archival paper trail makes it abundantly clear that he lacked both the financial and royal backing to successfully bring the project to fruition. While he unquestionably bit off more than he could chew, it is also clear that Hispanophiles in the inner circle of the S panish C rown saw him primarily as a foreigner by origin and scrutinized his requests accord ingly. T hose who resented the Bourbon monarchys alleged favoritism toward certain non-Hispanics raised a storm of criticism when C rilln landed the duchy of Mahn. From their perspective, these were unacceptable conces sions when bestowed on a foreigner ( T errn Ponce 1998:23). His successful 1782 military feat in Menorca may have temporarily silenced his detractors, but could do little to lessen FrancoS panish tensions in the C aribbean. In the eyes of zealous C rown officials, some of his demands involving foreign inter ests confirmed the dangers of French expansionism in the Hispanic C aribbean and would only have contributed to the troubling erosion of S panish economic and territorial hegemony in the Indies. A lthough many of the objections raised by the S panish C rown focused on project-specific concerns unrelated to Crillns French roots per se, the fol 30. L eg. 26, C ampomanes, and leg. 464, U ltramar, A GI, various dates. 31. R esolution of the C ouncil of the S tate, May 24, 1793, leg. 464, U ltramar, A GI.
FRANCO P HOBIA AN D IN T ERIM P ERIA L PO L I T IC S IN BOURBON PUER T O RICO 51 lowing passage suggests that he was keenly aware that nativistic sentiments could derail his project:T he duke offers to give preference to S paniards any time settlers come for ward, but the gentlemen that make up the C ouncil of S tate know very well how difficult it is to find natives of ... [ S pain] or ... [the Indies] who would want to settle there. It is therefore indispensable to get a hold of foreigners not only as colonos but also as capitalists who might be able to advance the funds and payments needed. 32Since xenophobes in Spain believed that foreigners siphoned off the riches of the Indies, took jobs away from Iberians and native Whites, introduced heretical or superstitious ideas, and otherwise subverted Spanish authority, the duke tried to allay some of these fears as well: In order to prevent these colonos or slaves from introducing beliefs that would harm the government, the duke ... would recruit people known for their [good] habits and ways of thinking, from friendly, C atholic nations; and would make sure to weed out slaves from islands in which they are rebelling, although the uprising of slaves [in the French C aribbean] has nothing to do with their way of thinking or being insubordinate, but [due] to the [rights given] to their comrades among the people of color, whose condition they have sought to achieve and which their owners have resist e d fiercely. 33 Playing up his reputed loyalty to Spain, Crilln added that his agricultural colonias would boost the islands population and thus provide the surest guarantee for its defense, since no one defends the land better than those who own or settle it. 34C rilln planned to but did not join the migrant flow headed to the S panish A ntilles. 35 E xercising little control over his affairs across the A tlantic, a small share of his land grant was sold, some was illegally occupied by squatters, and the remainder reverted to the S panish C rown by the end of the 1850s. Heirs and their legal spokespersons undertook numerous unsuccessful efforts throughout the nineteenth century to reclaim the land (Gil-Bermejo Garca 1970:301-19). In the end, anti-foreign sentiments in S pain, interE uropean imperial politics in the A ntillean region, and C rillns avarice and public pro-French views com bined to thwart his long-sought plans to become both planter and negrero 32. L eg. 26, C ampomanes. 33. L eg. 26, C ampomanes. 34. L eg. 26, C ampomanes. 35. L eg. 409, c. 1781, S eccin de A rribadas.
52 JORGE LUI S CHINEA REFERENCE S ABBAD Y LASIERRA, FRAY A.I., 1959. Historia geogrfica, civil y natural de la isla de San Juan Bautista de Puerto Rico. Ro Piedras, Puerto Rico: Ediciones Huracn. [Orig. 1788.] AIME S, HUBER T H .S ., 1907. A History of Slavery in Cuba, 1511 to 1868. New York: G.P. Putnams S ons. BORDE, P.G.L., 1982. The History of Trinidad under the Spanish Government Port-ofS pain: Paria Publishing. [Orig. 1883.] CAMBRE MARIO, J., 1972. Puerto R ico bajo el reformismo ilustrado. Revista de Historia de Amrica 73-74:53-73. CARO DE DELGADO, A.R., 1963. El duque de Crilln o la frustracin de un rgimen agrario feudalista en Puerto R ico, siglo 18. Revista del Instituto de Cultura Pue r torriquea 6(18):61-64. CHINEA, JORGE LUI S 2005. Race and Labor in the Hispanic Caribbean: The West Indian Immigrant Worker Experience in Puerto Rico, 1800-1850 Gainesville: University Press of Florida. COLL Y TOSTE, C., 1914. La propiedad territorial en Puerto Rico: Su desenvolvimiento histrico. Boletn Histrico de Puerto Rico 1:239-310. CRILLN, DUC DE, 1791. Mmoires militaires de Louis de Berton des Balbes de Quiers, duc de Crillon, duc de Mahon Paris: Du Pont. DAZ SO L ER, LUI S M ., 1953. Historia de la esclavitud negra en Puerto Rico R o Piedras, Puerto R ico: E ditorial U niversitaria. FISHER, JOHN R., 1981. Imperial Free T rade and the Hispanic Economy, 1778-1796. Journal of Latin American Studies 13:21-56. 1992. Relaciones comerciales entre Espaa y la cuenca del Caribe en la poca del comercio libre, 1778-1820. In R icardo E A legra (ed.), Primer congreso internacional de historia econmica y social de la cuenca del Caribe, 1763-1898 S an Juan: C entro de E studios A vanzados de Puerto R ico y el C aribe, pp. 209-58. GIL-BERMEJO GARCA, JUANA 1970. Panorama histrico de la agricultura en Puerto Rico S eville, S pain: E scuela de E studios HispanoA mericanos. GODREAU, M.J. & J.A. GIUSTI, 1993. Las concesiones de la Corona y propiedad de la tierra en Puerto R ico, siglos xvi-xx: U n estudio jurdico. Revista Jurdica 62:351-579. GONZ L EZRI P O LL NAVARRO, MARIA DO L ORE S, 1999. Cuba, la isla de los ensayos: Cultura y sociedad, 1790-1815. Madrid: C onsejo S uperior de Investigaciones C ientficas.
FRANCO P HOBIA AN D IN T ERIM P ERIA L PO L I T IC S IN BOURBON PUER T O RICO 53 GONZ L EZ VA L E S, L., 1983. T he E ighteenthC entury S ociety. In A rturo Morales C arrin (ed.), Puerto Rico: A Political and Cultural History New York: W.W. Norton, pp. 41-50. GUTIERREZ ESCUDERO, ANT ONIO, 1983. Poblacin y economa en Santo Domingo, 1700-1746 S eville, S pain: E xcma Diputacin Provincial. LPEZ, A., 1980. The Evolution of a Colony: Puerto Rico in the 16th, 17th, and 18th Centuries. In A. Lpez, (ed.), The Puerto Ricans: Their History, Culture and Society R ochester V T : S chenkman Books, pp. 25-47. LUCENA SALMORAL, MANUEL, 1996. Los cdigos negros de la Amrica espaola A lcal, S pain: U niversidad de A lcal/ E diciones U N ESC O. MORA L E S CARRIN, A 1974. Puerto Rico and the Non-Hispanic Caribbean: A Study in the Decline of Spanish Exclusivism Ro Piedras, Puerto Rico: University of Puerto Rico Press. [Orig. 1952.] MOSCOSO, FRANCISCO 1999. Agricultura y sociedad en Puerto Rico, siglos 16 al 18: Un acercamiento desde la historia S an Juan: Instituto de C ultura Puertorriquea/ C olegio de A grnomos de Puerto R ico. NEWSON, L.A., 1979. Foreign Immigrants in Spanish America: T rinidads Colonisation E xperiment. Caribbean Studies 19:133-51. OREILL Y, A., 1972. Memoria de D. Alexandro OReylly sobre la isla de Puerto Rico. In A.R. Caro Costas (ed.), Antologa de lecturas de historia de Puerto Rico (siglos XVIXVIII) Puerto R ico: n.p., pp. 385-416. [Orig. 1765.] PIC, FERNANDO, 1986. Historia general de Puerto Rico. Ro Piedras, Puerto Rico: E diciones Huracn. ROMN GU T IRREZ, JO S FRANCI S CO, 1998. Las reformas borbnicas y el nuevo orden colonial Mxico, D.F.: Instituto Nacional de A ntropologa e Historia. SEVILLA SOLER, MARIA ROSARIO 1980. Santo Domingo: Tierra de frontera, 17501800 S eville, S pain: E scuela de E studios HispanoA mericanos de S evilla. SONESSON, BIRGIT, 2002. Puerto Ricos Commerce, 1765-1865: From Regional to Worldwide Market Relations L os A ngeles CA : L atin A merican C enter Publications. SZ S Z D I, A 1962. C redit without Banking in E arly NineteenthC entury Puerto R ico. The Americas 19(2):149-69. TERRN PONCE, JOS LUIS, 1998. La toma de Menorca (1781-1782) en los escritos autobiogrficos y epistolario del Duque de Crilln. Menorca, Spain: Institut Menorqu d E studis and Fundaci R ubi i T urdur. THOMA S, HUGH 1997. The Slave Trade: The History of the Atlantic Slave Trade: 14401870 New York: T ouchstone.
54 JORGE LUI S CHINEATORRES RAMREZ, B., 1968. La isla de Puerto Rico, 1765-1800 San Juan: Instituto de C ultura Puertorriquea. JORGE L. CHINEAC enter for C hicano-Boricua S tudies Wayne S tate U niversity Detroit MI 48202, U S A
AONGHA S ST. HI L AIREP O ST CO L ONI AL I S M I D E N T I T Y A ND T H E FRE N C H L A NG UA G E IN S T. L UC I A Due to its colonial history, S t. L ucia is an amalgamation of A frican, French, and British cultural elements. T he French were the first E uropean colonial power to successfully establish permanent settlement on the island, institut ing a plantation-based economy. Most S t. L ucians today are descendants of enslaved A fricans brought to the island by the French from neighbor ing Martinique, beginning in the mid-seventeenth century (Breen 1844). A lthough the French lost definitive colonial control over the island to the British in 1814, the legacy of early French colonialism is evident everywhere ( L owenthal 1972). T he vast majority of place names are of French origin, R oman C atholicism remains the predominant religion and, most notably, more than 80 percent of S t. L ucians speak Kwyl a French-lexicon creole vernacular similar to those spoken in the French dpartements doutre-mer of Martinique and Guadeloupe. A lthough Kwyl is still widely spoken in S t. L ucia, E nglish is the language of education, business, prestige, upward mobility, and international relations, and most S t. L ucians also speak E nglish. T he British colonial legacy also lives on via S t. L ucias parliamentary form of government and educational system. Moreover, S t. L ucia gained political independence from the U nited Kingdom in 1979 and, since then, the influence of U S culture has been on the rise as U S .-dominated media have spread throughout the island and as greater numbers of S t. L ucians have migrated to and from the North A merican mainland. In the postcolonial era, Kwyl has become the most visible symbol of St. Lucian national identity. This is due in large part to the activities of the pro-Kwyl cultural nationalist movement which grew out of organized efforts in the early 1970s to preserve and promote St. Lucias Afro-French, creole culture (Carrington 1984, Dalphinis 1985, St. Hilaire 2000). As a result of the cultural nationalist movement, many contemporary St. Lucians value Kwyl as the homegrown, unique cultural property of their island. A t the same time, however, English has become more firmly entrenched in St. L ucia. T he continued expansion of the public school system has led to greater New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007):55-77
56 AONGHA S ST. HI L AIRE facility in E nglish among S t. L ucians across the social spectrum. In postcolo nial debates related to S t. L ucian national identity within cultural nationalist circles, the focus has been on elevating the social status of Kwyl, but never to the detriment of E nglish highly regarded by S t. L ucians of all stripes as a passport to upward and outward mobility. The postcolonial era in St. Lucia is marked in part by a substitution of sociocultural forms dominant during the colonial period with more localized national variants. On the island, this phenomenon is witnessed by increased support by the public for Kwyl as an important symbol of St. Lucian cul tural identity and by the national administration as an effective medium of communication with its citizenry during the colonial period Kwyl was denigrated by the elite class and public officials as a language of ignorance and backwardness, and English was the sole language of officialdom. The postcolonial era is also marked by a diminution in anticolonial discourse on the island. As such, pragmatic concerns related to economic develop ment and socioeconomic opportunities for St. Lucian citizens hold sway. A ccordingly, the S t. L ucian political establishment encourages the continued expansion of full literacy in Standard English through the islands schools, and parents make great sacrifices to ensure their children master the lan guage. Relative to Kwyl and English, the current status of French on the island is somewhat ambiguous. French was a spoken language only during the islands early colonial history under slavery. Shortly after emancipation in 1834 French ceased to exist, with E nglish coming to fill former high-status functions of French in island society. In the early 1980s, however, S t. L ucian government officials, with financial and logistical support from the French national government, launched a program of expansion of French language instruction in all of the islands high schools. By the mid-1990s, the program was extended to include the last three grades of primary school across the island (Cassan 1996, Dumont 2004). Moreover, in 1984 France established a permanent Mission de coopration et daction culturelle (MCAC) in St. Lucia including an Alliance Franaise located in a prominent position on the bay in downtown C astries to train S t. L ucian teachers of French and to teach French to all interested S t. L ucians. T he role of Kwyl in the formation of postcolonial S t. L ucian national and cultural identity is relatively well documented. 1 T he predominant role E nglish has played in the colonial and postcolonial economic, political, and cultural life of S t. L ucia and S t. L ucian attitudes toward the language are 1 C arrington 1984, Dalphinis 1985, S amuel 1992, Frank 1993, Nwenmely 1999, Garrett 2000, S t. Hilaire 2000, 2003, and also L awrence C arrington, 1987, Creole Discourse and Social Development a report prepared for the Economic Commission for Latin America and the C aribbean for submission to the International Development C entre.
PO ST CO L ONIA L I S M, ID EN T I T Y, AN D T HE FRENCH LANGUAGE IN ST. LUCIA 57 also documented in the literature. 2 However, the status of French in postcolo nial S t. L ucian society and the role the language plays in S t. L ucian national and cultural identity has received relatively little research attention. S t. L ucia became a member of the Francophonie in 1981 participating in its programs of member cooperation and maintaining an active presence in venu e s of cul tural and political representation. In addition, ties between both France and French-speaking Martinique, on the one hand, and S t. L ucia, on the other, have solidified since S t. L ucian national independence, and school-aged children across S t. L ucia now have access to French-language instruction beginni n g in the primary grades. However, little is known about how S t. L ucians perceive French the language of an early colonial power and former defenders of slavery on the island. T his article seeks to fill the research void, examining attitudes toward and cultural identification with the French language among S t. L ucians through a postcolonial conceptual framework.ME T HO D O L OGYA review of literature on postcolonialism, identity, and language, particu larly in the C aribbean context, informs, and data from interviews with 100 S t. L ucian respondents empirically ground, the research. T he interview sur vey instrument consists of closedand open-ended questions probing into S t. L ucian attitudes toward and knowledge, use, and perceptions of the languages used on the island and into issues related to S t. L ucian cultural and national identity. Of the 100 respondents, 60 are from metropolitan C astries and 40 are from rural Monchy. C astries, S t. L ucias capital and largest city, has his torically served as the islands motor for socioeconomic, sociocultural, and sociolinguistic change. S ociolinguistic attitudes, patterns of language knowl edge, and use and feelings of cultural and national identity held by C astries residents, therefore, are key to understanding the dynamics of S t. L ucian identity vis--vis the French language islandwide. Monchy, a village located in the mountainous interior of north central S t. L ucia, is in the historically most Kwyl-dominant district of the island. R esidents of the village provide representation of rural S t. L ucian perceptions of identity and attitudes toward French. T he relatively small number of survey respondents limits the ability to make statistical inferences. In qualitative research, however, data collected from interviews are valuable to gaining a better understanding of the social dynamics under study (Knapik 2006, Myers 2006, Bennett & C olin 2007). T he 100 C astries and Monchy respondents were randomly selected from each location, using census housing unit maps obtained from the S t. L ucian 2 C arrington 1967, Valdman 1976, C haudenson 1979, Vaughan 1979, A lexander 1981, E dward 1989, Isaac 1989, S t. Hilaire 2000, 2003, Garrett 2003, 2006.
58 AONGHA S ST. HI L AIRE S tatistics Department. A single housing unit map was used for Monchy. S everal housing unit maps, selected to include the central city and secondary and ter tiary tiers, were used for C astries. T he housing unit maps were demarcated for use by census takers. T he informants were selected from every fourth house along the path delineated for census takers, alternating from right to left. T he first person over the age of 13 to answer the door was asked to participate. If the invitation for participation was refused, the next fourth house on the alter nate side of the route was selected. Of the selected 100 informants, 63 were female and 37 were male. In terms of age, 23 of the respondents were under 20 years old, 17 were 20-to-29 years old, 23 were 30-to-39 years old, 11 were 40to-49 years old, 14 were 50-to-65 years old, and 12 were over 65 years old. A n E nglish-language version of the interview questionnaire was adminis tered to all but four older Monchy residents who did not speak the language the Kwyl-language version of the questionnaire was crafted with the help of native Kwyl speakers. S urvey questions designed explicitly to capture: 1) informant self-declared knowledge and use of French, 2) informant sup port for and attitudes toward this language, and 3) informant perceptions of S t. L ucian cultural affinity with Martinique versus Barbados, and France versus the U nited Kingdom provide the primary data underpinning this article. For self-declared knowledge of French, informants were asked, How well do you speak French? Very well, well, so-so, not well, or not at all. For self-declared use of French, informants were asked, How often do you use French? Never, not frequent l y, sometimes, frequently, or always. For this last question, infor mants were asked a follow-up open-ended question, U nder what circumstanc e s do you use French? A lthough the use of self-reported proficiency indicators is common in research on language (Wharton 2000, Kim 2006), they can be inaccurate future studies might attempt to gauge S t. L ucians E nglish and French proficiency using standardized tests. T o measure support for and atti tudes toward the language, informants were asked the questions, Is French or S panish more important for children in S t. L ucia to learn? and S hould S t. L ucians use more, the same amount of, or less French? Follow-up openended questions were asked of the informants to probe why they support or do not support the learning of French versus S panish among young S t. L ucians and S t. L ucians general l y to use more, the same amount, or less French. R esponses to these questions provide empirical evidence on the nexus between the French language and perceptions of national and cultural identity in S t. L ucia.PO ST CO L ONIA L I S M, ID EN T I T Y, AN D LANGUAGE One of the main themes with which postcolonial theory deals is the devel opment of national identities since the end of colonial rule. 3 Postcolonial 3 S aid 1979, 1993, T hiongo 1986, Bhabha 1994, Narayan 1997, MacPhee 2006.
PO ST CO L ONIA L I S M, ID EN T I T Y, AN D T HE FRENCH LANGUAGE IN ST. LUCIA 59 theorists frequently view language through the dialectic of subjugation ver sus liberation (Thiongo 1986). Early postcolonial theory developed in the C aribbean has tended toward the view that the regions E uropean-origin lan guages S panish, French, E nglish, Dutch, or, to a lesser extent, Danish are tools of oppression, used to subjugate the Antillean creole vernaculars and, importantly, their speakers. Martiniques Frantz Fanon (1952), for example, equates speaking a standard European language with acceptance of the col lective consciousness of the colonizer, which tends to associate the colonized with backwardness and ignorance. Catherine Walsh (1991) argues that the conflict caused by the psychological and cultural tension inherent in colo nialism plays itself out in a skewed societal bilingualism the establishment of a linguistic dualism in which the language of the colonizer asserts hege mony over the language of the colonized and leads to the internalization of a subordinate identity among speakers of noncolonial languages. Aim Csaire (1956) argues that restoration of a positive racial and cultural iden tity among colonized people is a way to negate colonialisms psychological and cultural distortions. In this view, the elevation of the social status of the C aribbean creole vernaculars is one way to restore a positive identity. Derek Gregory (2004) argues that the colonial past is still present in post colonial societies. T he colonial present in postcolonial societies manifests itself in the continued stigma attached to native, noncolonial vernaculars. S uch negative language attitudes have been especially prevalent in the C aribbean, although in the late 1960s and early 1970s creole cultural nationalism swept through the region seeking to negate and reverse these attitudes (Devonish 1986). Valerie Youssef (2002:184-85) also argues that the colonial past con tinues to play itself out in the present, via attitudes toward C aribbean creoles and a supposed West Indian alienation from S tandard E nglish or French:It is worthy considering at this point that speakers of Creoles generally regard them as their own, even though they may devalorise them, and that they regard S tandards or world languages, such as E nglish and French, as the property of the former colonizers. The notion of rulership affects our minds particularly strongly, and so we focus on a history of Standards as the dominant languages, the languages of the oppressors, and reject them for these very connotations ... (S)ince the colonial past was characterized by widespread dismissal of the Creole language as broken, it is small wonder that speakers do not feel comfortable regarding whole English or French as their own. Institutions established during the colonial era persist in postcolonial soci eties and this inheritance has influenced generations coming of age since the actual period of colonization. In much of the formerly colonized world, Kamal Salhi (2004) argues, the most important cultural conflict that occurs is between European-imposed cultural models and indigenous ones. In the
60 AONGHA S ST. HI L AIRE C aribbean, the tension is between E uropean cultural norms and perceptions of C reoleness ( L avia 2006). In S t. L ucia, postcolonial discourse has focused on harnessing indigenous knowledge and channeling this knowledge to promote national development ( L ingard & Pierre 2006). However, in S t. L ucia as in much of the postcolonial world such discourse is moored to postcolonial identity politics. These politics seek to subvert cultural hegemonies, but do little to address actual structural inequalities (MacKinnon 2006, S zeto 2006). Postcolonial arguments revolving around issues of social justice also tend to be wedded to identity politics and counterhegemonic ideologies (HicklingHudson 2006). As such, postcolonial identity politics may be viewed as a form of aspirational politics (Lingard & Pierre 2006). However, the goal of these politics is seldom attained ( A very 2006). A condition of postcoloniality is that although national political sovereign t y has been attained, indigenous cultural heritages in many parts of the world are in competition with global cultural and linguistic forms (Desai 2006). Intensified economic globalization, with the increased exchange of cultural and other goods and the movement of people and free flow of ideas it engen ders, has changed the nature of ethnic, cultural, and national identities as well as patterns of language use. S upranational identities and language practices have emerged to compete with nationally based identities and ways of using language. In the new globalized economy, cultural uniformity has given place to cultural hybridity (Heller 2003). Due to the impact of globalization, identities are frequently diasporic, mobile, and transient ( S avage, Bagnall & L onghurst 2005). A s such, strict dichotomies between the language and cul tural property of the (former) colonizer and those of the (formerly) colonized have largely disintegrated. Identity is increasingly viewed as multiple, lay ered, and dynamic (Henriquez et al. 1984, Meinhof & Galasinski 2005, Myers 2006). T his is especially true in the West Indies (Knepper 2006). L anguage, in particular, allows for flexibility in identity. T hrough linguistic choices made, a person is able to consciously or unconsciously express dual or multiple identi ties, even in a single sentence (Blom & Gumperz 1972, Warschauer 2000). Many inhabitants of the contemporary postcolonial world have appro priated the language of the former colonial power and made it their own, claiming ownership of it as a step toward cultural freedom and indepen dence (Fouet & Renaudeau 1988). This is especially true of English now the global lingua franca. In areas formerly under British colonial control, such as Nigeria and India, for example, new national varieties of English have emerged, replacing the formerly privileged British standard (Mesthrie 2006). T his is also increasingly true in the postcolonial Francophone world, where French serves as an intercultural lingua franca. Here, French is no longer viewed as the exclusive cultural property of France (Salhi 2004). The maintenance of French as an official language in much of sub-Saharan Africa has been accompanied by the rise of Francophone identities that are
PO ST CO L ONIA L I S M, ID EN T I T Y, AN D T HE FRENCH LANGUAGE IN ST. LUCIA 61 used not only to distinguish Africans from France, but also from each other ( C aitucoli 1998, Bissiri 2001, Ploog 2001). In addition, where French creole vernaculars exist, speakers often do not know whether particular words are creole or French, thereby blurring language-based lines of demarcation in identity formation and facilitating the existence of localized and regionalized Francophone identities in creole societies (de R obillard 2001). Wendy Knepper (2006:70) states that in the Caribbean identities, lin guistic transformations, religious beliefs, music, cuisine, and aesthetic prac tices have been shaped by the fragmentation and intermixture of various traditions. As such, Caribbean efforts to promote a fixed Creoleness as a basis for identity politics are fraught with inherent limitations. In relation to postcolonial West Indian identity politics, Raphal Confiant 4 highlights the fluid nature of social facts underlying the project: In the Antilles, the mixing was done by way of diffraction ... and far from erasing the evidence of their origins, the cultural contributions of the four continents were incor porated here and juxtaposed there without ever disappearing as such ... The Creole does not possess a new identity ... but new identities. The phenom enon of creolization invented from all the pieces a multiple identity. The multiplici ty of identity inherent in the Caribbean creole experience and the current postcolonial, global era is accompanied by fluidity in West Indian patterns of language use, perceptions of language utility, and cultural and national identification with language. Moreover, cultural nationalist movements asserting particular languages or language varieties have to contend with competing discourses, which often undermine partisan language planning efforts. In Quebec, for example, some cultural nationalists have sought to valorize folk elements of Qubcois French culture including uniquely Qubcois characteristics of the French language while others have sought to modernize the Qubcois French language to make it more like the international standard and ready for use as a bureaucratic, scientific, and technical medium of expression (Handler 1988). In recent years, moreover, Puerto Ricans of all political inclinations and across the social spectrum have come to increasingly value their culture. As such, there have emerged competing discourses as to what constitutes Puerto R ican cultural identity. In terms of language, some Puerto R icans hold to the view that S panish is the only legitimate language of Puerto R ican iden tity, while others esteem both S panish and E nglish as constituent elements of Puerto R ican culture (Davila 1997). In Martinique, although the French language now predominates and many Martiniquans consider themselves French, in literary and academic circles there has existed a movement, albeit marginal, to valorize creole language and 4 Crolit et francophonie: Un loge de la diversit, Kapes Kreyol available online at
62 AONGHA S ST. HI L AIRE culture since the late 1970s (Prudent 1993). A mong Haitians both in Haiti and in the diaspora, French competes with Haitian C reole as a legitimate language of Haitian cultural identity (Buchanan 1979, Doucet 2000, Youssef 2002). S imilarly, among Jamaicans at home and abroad, E nglish and Jamaican C reole are subject to competing discourses on cultural nationalism, although the status of Jamaican C reole has improved considerably as a language of national identity vis--vis S tandard E nglish over the past two decades (Pryce 1997, Bryan 2004). In S uriname, although the E nglish-based creole, S ranan, rose in status in tandem with growing cultural nationalist sentiment during the 1960s and 1970s, Dutch won out among competing discourses as the official medium of expressing S urinamese nationhood ( S t. Hilaire 1999, 2001). In A ruba, Bonaire, and C uraao, however, Papiamento/Papiamentu has assumed a central and increasingly formal, official role as the legitimate expression of the islands different cultural identities ( R azak 1995, Oostindie 2005). However, in most avenues of formal education, which prepares islanders for tertiary educational opportunities in the Netherlands, Papiamento/Papiamentu continues to suffer from subordinate status vis--vis Dutch.SOCIO L INGUI ST IC POR T RAI T OF ST. LUCIAIn 1911, only 36.4 percent of all St. Lucians claimed to speak English. This proportion climbed to 56.5 percent in 1946. 5 From survey fieldwork conduct e d on the island more than half a century later, approximately threequarters of the respondents professed to be able to speak E nglish well or very well and only 2 percent indicated they could not speak the language at all, pointing to great gains in E nglish proficiency since 1946. Initially, these gains did not come at the expense of Kwyl, but attest to a rising rate of societal bilingualism. 6 However, by the late 1960s, A lbert Valdman (1976) noted that Kwyl was in clear regression before E nglish and predicted the languages death in the long term. L ater, L awrence C arrington (1984) also observed that Kwyl was waning in extent and influence throughout St. Lucia. Of the surveyed respondents, however, 71 percent professed to speak Kwyl well or very well and only 2 percent said that they could not speak the language at all. Nevertheless, more than a fourth of respondents professed to speak the language poorly most of these were young people, possibly pointing to a shift away from the language. Knowledge of French is considerably less widespread than either E nglish or Kwyl. E stimates put the number of French speakers in S t. L ucia at less than 10 percent of the population ( A llen 1992, Grimes 1996). Dennis A ger 5 West Indian Census 1950. Kingston: Government Printer. 6 West Indian Census 1946. Kingston: Government Printer.
PO ST CO L ONIA L I S M, ID EN T I T Y, AN D T HE FRENCH LANGUAGE IN ST. LUCIA 63 (1996) valuates the number of real French speakers on the island at only 2,000, while C haudenson (1992) asserts that a mere .5 percent of all S t. L ucians are truly competent in S tandard French. In contrast to these estimates, however, 16 percent of field research informants claimed to be able to speak French at least moderately well and 68 percent of the respondents said they could understand at least some spoken French. Of those who claimed to understand some French, nearly one-third most of whom were young people iden tified schooling in French as the way they acquired this ability, suggesting some success of the relatively recent efforts by national leaders and education policymakers to introduce French on the island. A lthough many S t. L ucian informants report some French language ability, 48 percent of all respon dents including those who claimed no knowledge of the language never use French and 27 percent use the language not frequently (see Graph 1). S lightly more than one-fifth claimed to use the language sometimes, while only 3 and 1 percent of the informants said that they use French frequently or always, respectively. Of those who claimed at least some use of French, 36 percent said they use it at work and/or with French-speaking tourists visiting the island. A n additional third reported that they use the language when travel ing to Martinique. A pproximately one-quarter, composed entirely of students, use French in school. T hese data on linguistic knowledge and use point to S t. L ucias sociocultural orientation as nominally Francophone. 60% 50% 40% 30% 20% 10% 0% Never Not frequently Sometimes Frequently Always 27% 48% 21% 3% 1% Graph 1. Frequency of French L anguage U se
64 AONGHA S ST. HI L AIRE LANGUAGE ATT I T U D E S AN D PERCE PT ION S OF CU LT URA L AFFINI T Y E nglish is a highly prized possession among most S t. L ucians. It is the lan guage of education and employment both on the island and abroad many S t. L ucians emigrate to the U nited Kingdom, the U nited S tates, or C anada each year. In general, S t. L ucians recognize and cherish their membership in the E nglish-speaking world and consider E nglish as much of a S t. L ucian language as Kwyl. One-half of all informants in Monchy and nearly half of those in C astries expressed the belief that more E nglish should be used on the island. Many of these indicated that S t. L ucians should learn to speak bet ter E nglish. Many S t. L ucians, particularly the well educated, are conscious of and concerned with the limited grasp of S tandard E nglish many of their compatriots have. T he embracing of E nglish is nearly universal among young people. A 19-year-old graduate of secondary school in Monchy who was look ing for work at the time of the interview, stressed the need for more and better E nglish among S t. L ucians in order to prepare students for future employ ment, explaining the reason for young peoples predilection for E nglish:T he children nowadays learn ... are more interested in E nglish. A nd when it comes to ... like, if they ... For example, when they go for employment, they more ... Nowadays, when you go to job interviews, they will not ask you questions in Patois. A nd they are not looking for any kind of E nglish. They are looking for Standard English. So, I think they should raise their level of E nglish and leave the Patois how it is. S o, I think they should leave the Patois out of it [the school].Only 2 percent of Monchy and 10 percent of C astries residents expressed the view that less E nglish should be used. Of this minority, most thought that E nglish threatened the survival of Kwyl. A lthough E nglish is the undisputed language of opportunity and upward mobility and nearly all S t. L ucians highly value E nglish and will make great sacrifices to see that their children or grand children acquire a solid command of the language, most S t. L ucians also deem Kwyl as a significant symbol of S t. L ucian identity. Ninety-five percent of C astries informants and 93 percent of those in Monchy expressed the opinion that it is important for children to learn Kwyl. A 49-year-old working-class resident of C astries who speaks Kwyl fluently explained his support for the language: Its a gift given by the A ll-Mighty. T his is what youve been created of ... and if you have to neglect that language or leave it completely to adopt another language, you become an adopted child ... but not a legitimate child. A 19-year-old C astries respondent from a rural, working-class family added: C reole is our culture. C reole we learn from A frica ... not just come from S t. L ucia. I feel that Patois should be practiced. It should be practiced generally. T hats our native language. T hats our culture. Before E nglish started, it was
PO ST CO L ONIA L I S M, ID EN T I T Y, AN D T HE FRENCH LANGUAGE IN ST. LUCIA 65 Patois. In ancient times, it was Patois your mother and grandmother used to talk to you. [But] when you come [to] C astries and live or when you come [to] C astries to go to school, they dont want you to speak Patois at all. In line with these sentiments, since national independence a pro-Kwyl cul tural nationalist movement has sought to elevate Kwyl as a full-fledged national language, instituting the annual Jounen Kwyl in celebration of S t. Lucias Afro-French, creole culture and seeking (unsuccessfully) to intro duce Kwyl into the national school system as a language of instruction and literacy. In spite of support for Kwyl for the role it plays in national identity, however, many S t. L ucians have perceived a decrease in its societal use over time, providing further evidence of a shift away from the language and toward English. A 36-year-old seamstress in Monchy who uses mostly English and occasionally Kwyl with her children explained the sociolinguistic change in her community in these terms: I think less Patois is spoken now than when I was a child. Because I could remember when I was a little girl going to school, all the schoolchildren would be speaking Patois on the road to school. But now you hardly have any child that speaks Patois ... The parents are not speaking Patois like that ... time and time, you see, Patois is decreasing ... from the old genera tion thats dying out and the young generation thats coming in. The old generation speak Patois to their children. The children speak English to their children, you understand? S o, therefore ... my great grandmother died already. And she speaking Patois alone. So, she died already. My grand mother can speak it [English] a little. And then my mother speak it to me fluent. S o, I have to speak it to my children, too, you know? S o, therefore, the Patois died. So, you hear the children on the way to school speaking E nglish, you understand?Standard French is a relative newcomer among St. Lucias languages. Nevertheless, many St. Lucians identify with and embrace the language. St. Lucian attitudes toward French are partly informed by perceived lin guistic affinities between French and Kwyl. Historically, the St. Lucian school system transmitted to children the idea that, Patois is not a language, Patois cannot be written, Patois has no grammar, it is only broken French (Carrington 1967:12). Jeffrey Allen (1992:24) views prevalent attitudes toward French and Kwyl as a factor undermining the status of Kwyl as an independent language in St. Lucia: theres still a tendency for people to interpret the French Creole as an incorrect form of French and to associate it with French in some way. T herefore, the C reole loses its separate identity, a little of a separate identity. However, perceived linguistic affinities are auspicious for Franco-St. Lucian efforts to introduce French on the island.
66 AONGHA S ST. HI L AIRE Perceived likenesses between French and Kwyl serve to bolster S t. L ucian public support for French language instruction in the islands schools. In competition with S panish as the primary second (or third after Kwyl) language taught in S t. L ucian schools, French clearly predominates, point ing to a Francophone cultural orientation among S t. L ucians (see Graph 2). French and S panish are the two main foreign languages taught in S t. L ucian schools. T he S panish language has a strong presence in the C aribbean basin and the government of Venezuela subsidizes S panish language instruction in S t. L ucia. Nevertheless, when asked which language is more important for S t. L ucian children to learn, most surveyed residents in C astries and Monchy, including those of school age, chose French over S panish. S ixty-two and 58 percent of respective C astries and Monchy respondents expressed that French was more important for children to learn than S panish. Most informants who favored French identified the many perceived similarities between the language and Kwyl as a justification for their preference. Only 12 and 18 percent of respective C astries and Monchy informants chose S panish over French. Of the C astries respondents in this latter group, most were E nglish speakers with little knowledge of Kwyl, and of the Monchy respondents, most spoke Kwyl fluently and related that with Kwyl young people could already communicate with French speakers a view not supported by the experiences of those Kwyl-speaking S t. L ucians who have had real contact with speakers of French reflecting limited exposure to the Francophonie in rural Monchy relative to the more cosmopolitan, outward-oriented C astries. Graph 2. Is French or S panish More Important for C hildren to L earn? 70% 60% 50% 40% 30% 20% 10% 0% French Spanish Both Does not matter None 62% 58% 12% 18% 23% 10% 10% 3% 4% Castries Monchy 0%
PO ST CO L ONIA L I S M, ID EN T I T Y, AN D T HE FRENCH LANGUAGE IN ST. LUCIA 67 S t. L ucians share few perceived cultural affinities with IberoA merica but greater perceived cultural affinities with the Francophonie and have relative ly few real contacts with S panish speakers. R espondents expressed that French is closer to S t. L ucian culture than is S panish. A 19-year-old C astries fisherman with a grade-school education put it in terms of racial and regional identity: You barely ever come across a Spanish person. A Spanish person would have to drop down from the sky, dem White people dem. T he C aribbean is more E nglish and French ... thats why ... we [ S t. L ucians] are in the center. We can understand English. We can understand French. We speak both. We are doing both. S o, we are blessed. In addition, some informants stressed the greater utility of French for interna tional communication, suggesting that the Francophonie figures more impor tantly than L atin A merica among S t. L ucians in spite of the geographic closeness and demographic weight of the latter. Other informants highlighted the frequency of French-speaking tourists visiting S t. L ucia as a reason for the importance of French. In addition to preferring French over Spanish as the most important sec ond (third) language of acquisition for children, respondents expressed the view that S t. L ucians should, in general, use more French (see Graph 3). T his is especially true in urban C astries, where residents have greater contact with foreign Francophone visitors on the island and have more experience travel ing within the French-speaking Caribbean relative to the more insular resi dents of Monchy. Indeed, informants supporting the general increased use of French in S t. L ucia cited contact with French-speaking visitors on the island, travel to different territories of the Francophonie and the geographic close ness of Martinique to justify their responses. A 34-year-old C astries housewife put it succinctly: You have a lot of French people who visit here. You have a lot of French people living here and a lot of St. Lucians go to Martinique to live or to visit. In addition, St. Lucians who live in a materially poor nation and have a long history of economically motivated emigration value the acquisition of French for the doors it potentially opens abroad. Another respondent, a 45-year-old hotel worker originally from the northwestern coastal village of Gros Islet emphasized the usefulness of French, as distinct from Kwyl, for the access it provides to the Francophonie : its true were Patois speaking ... the French speaking is still different from the Patois ... and we have Martinique very close to us there. Plus, we are native country ( sic ) ... and then we could still go to France or ... theres this place in C anada you speak French. Its not Patois they speak there.
68 AONGHA S ST. HI L AIRE 80% 60% 40% 20% 0% 60% 45% 37% 55% 3% 0% More Same Less Castries Monchy St. Kitts Nevis Anguilla St. Martin Barbuda Antigua Montserrat Guadeloupe Dominica Martinique St. Lucia Barbados St. Vincent Carriacou Grenada Puerto RicoGraph 3. S hould S t. L ucians U se More, the S ame A mount or L ess French?Many St. Lucians consider Kwyl to be broken French (Vaughan 1979, C arrington 1984). A s such, some respondents conflated the Kwyl with the French, suggesting that support for the use of more French is related to sup port for the Kwyl language. A Monchy respondent in his forties who had partially completed grade school conveyed the following view: T his is our native tongue. Because of the French influence in our country, our first language is French. T hats why we have the Patois. Some people say its broken French, but I say its almost like the French ... sometimes when you speak it, you find that certain words they use ... the real French ... we use, too. Map 1. S t. L ucia in the E astern C aribbean
PO ST CO L ONIA L I S M, ID EN T I T Y, AN D T HE FRENCH LANGUAGE IN ST. LUCIA 69 Many informants, including young people schooled in the language, affirmed that French improves the quality of Kwyl. Support for St. Lucians to use more French also appears to be related to the social desirability of the lan guage. It is a social asset in St. Lucia to be able to speak French. Implicitly, acquisition of the language not only improves the Kwyl, it also improves the social status of individual St. Lucians and, by extension, the St. Lucian people. One 39-year-old C astries respondent, supportive of greater use of French among St. Lucians, pointed to the fluidity of identity when it comes to lan guage: Creole speakers can change different identities by using a different language, and emphasized that this is what the neighboring Martiniquans do when they use French instead of Creole. This informant noted that the rela tively well-off French-speaking Martiniquans project a sense of superiority vis--vis St. Lucian Kwyl speakers. A 23-year-old man living in Castries added: I work in hospitality ... in the hotel ... we have a number of French guests coming down to S t. L ucia and we find that sometimes we do not speak the language that well. It looks embarrassing. It looks bad. A nother respon dent, a 66-year-old farmer from the rural fringes of Castries who was born in Fort-de-France, Martinique, spoke more explicitly on the link between the ability to speak French and social acceptability: I am very happy that many St. Lucians ... when you hear them speaking French, you cannot tell they are from here. You cannot distinguish whether they are Martiniquan or St. Lucian. I would like many of my people to learn the French language ... Those people who can speak French ... they have a feeling of grandeur ... of superiority. 100% 80% 60% 40% 20% 0% Martinique Barbados Neither Both Do not know 77% 9% 3% 3% 8% Graph 4. Perceptions of C ultural A ffinity: Martinique versus Barbados
70 AONGHA S ST. HI L AIRE Of all the West Indian islands, Martinique and Barbados have played the larg est role in S t. L ucias sociocultural development in the seventeenth and eigh teenth centuries, S t. L ucia was settled predominantly by the French and slaves from Martinique and, under British colonial rule, Barbados was the administra tive capital for the British E astern C aribbean territories and the source of many post-1814 migrants to S t. L ucia, including teachers coming to the island in early efforts to extend E nglish-language formal education. When asked to identify which island is culturally most similar to S t. L ucia, more than three-quarters of survey respondents identified Martinique (see Graph 4). Only 9 percent chose Barbados. Despite strong Barbadian influence relative to Martinique since the second half of the nineteenth century, most S t. L ucians continue to feel culturally closer to the Martiniquans. Many of the respondents mentioned the shared history, culture, and language of the two islands in addition to the his toric movement of and intermarrying between the two peoples as their reasons for choosing Martinique over Barbados. One 43-year-old C astries informant affirmed summarily, We have a lot of French in us. Of the 9 percent who identified S t. L ucia as culturally closer to Barbados, all spoke Kwyl poorly and most lived in C astries. One respondent in his late forties who had been involved in the S t. L ucian pro-Kwyl cultural nationalist movement, identified the historic cultural closeness between S t. L ucians and Martiniquans as still in play and manifest in the area of inter-island cooperation in spite of political barriers between French-controlled Martinique and independent S t. L ucia: Right now theres a lot of cooperation between Martinique and St. Lucia. The Martiniquan people and the St. Lucian people have always been a very close people ... by virtue of distance and so on. However, politically things are a bit more complex ... a lot more complex. But the people have been very close. Historically, the people have been cooperating with one another.C ontemporary trips by S t. L ucians to Martinique, the influx of Martiniquan tourists to S t. L ucia in recent years, the growth in the popularity of zouk music from the French West Indies, access to Martiniquan radio broadcasts on the north of the island, and current Martiniquan logistical and material support of initiatives to teach French in S t. L ucian schools provide continuance in histor ical patterns of inter-island cultural exchange. However, Martinique is politi cally a part of heavily centralized France, and S t. L ucia an independent nationmember of the Organization of E astern C aribbean S tates and CAR I C OM. A s such, political cooperation between the two islands is limited. A lthough S t. L ucians tend to identify with the regional, C aribbean Francophonie especially Martinique they are less inclined to identify with metropolitan France. S lightly more of the respondents expressed that S t. L ucia is culturally closer to E ngland than to France (31 to 29 percent see
PO ST CO L ONIA L I S M, ID EN T I T Y, AN D T HE FRENCH LANGUAGE IN ST. LUCIA 71 Graph 5). T he informants tend to point to the islands colonial history under the British for evidence of cultural likeness with E ngland. A n upper-middleclass C astries man in his sixties explained, I believe our colonial past has left us many legacies ... you may have noticed in me a bit of the English arrogance ... many who have gone to secondary school or the university tend to have a bit of this arrogance. We might like the French for their way of life, but when it comes to ... because of our education ... because we are educated by the E nglish ... this E nglish thing is in us.Of the respondents who identified France as more culturally similar to St. L ucia, some specified language as the reason for the similarity. Others referred to S t. L ucias early history with the French. S everal equated Martinique with France in making the assessment. Nearly one-third of all respondents said that they did not know which country is culturally closer to St. Lucia. Nine respondents thought neither country was culturally similar to St. Lucia. A handful of these laughed at the question, emphasizing cultural differences between the S t. L ucians and the E uropeans. 35% 30% 25% 20% 15% 10% 5% 0% France England Neither Both Do not know 29% 31% 9% 9% 22% Graph 5. Perceptions of C ultural A ffinity: France versus E ngland
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76 AONGHA S ST. HI L AIRE LOWEN T HA L, DAVI D 1972. West Indian Societies New York: Oxford U niversity Press. MACKINNON, KA THARINE, 2006. An Orthodoxy of the Local: Post-Colonialism, Participation and Professionalism in Northern T hailand. Geographic Journal 172:22-34. MACPHEE, GRAHAM, 2006. A Historical C ompanion to Postcolonial T hought in E nglish. College Literature 33:220-22. MAY SZET O, MIRANA 2006. Identity Politics and Its Discontents. Interventions: The Intern a tional Journal of Postcolonial Studies 8:253-75. MEINHOF, UL RIKE HANNA & DARIU S Z GA L A S IN S KI 2005. The Language of Belonging New York: Palgrave Macmillan. MESTHRIE, RAJEND, 2006. World Englishes and the Multilingual History of English. World Englishes 24:381-90. MYER S, GREG, 2006. Where A re You From?: Identifying Place. Journal of Sociolinguistics 10:320-43. NARAYAN, UMA 1997. Dislocating Cultures: Identities, Traditions, and Third World Feminism Oxford: R outledge. OO ST IN D IE, GER T, 2005. Paradise Overseas: The Dutch Caribbean: Colonialism and Its Transatlantic Legacies L ondon: MacMillan C aribbean. PLOOG, KA TJA, 2001. Le non-standard entre norme endogne et fantasme dunicit: L pope abidjanaise et sa polmique intrinsque. Cahiers dEtudes Africaines 163-64: n.p. PRU D EN T, LAMBER TFE L IX, 1993. Political Illusions of an Intervention in the L inguistic Domain in Martinique. International Journal of the Sociology of Language 102:135-48. PRYCE, JEAN, 1997. S imilarities between the Debates on E bonics and Jamaican. Journal of Black Psychology 23:238-41. RAZAK, VICT ORIA, 1995. Culture under Construction: The Future of Native Arubian Identity. Futures 27:447-59. ROBILLARD, DIDIER DE, 2001. En lizje kok patat en lizje vez gardj/La linguistique peut-elle passer entre-les-langages? Cahier dEtudes Africaines 163-64:n.p. SAI D, ED WAR D 1979. Orientalism New York: Vintage. , 1993. Culture and Imperialism New York: Vintage. ST. HILAIRE, AONGHAS, 1999. Language Planning and Development in the Caribbean: MultiE thnic S uriname. Language Problems and Language Planning 23:211-31. , 2000. Its Our Culture: Global Process, Community Development and Language S urvival in L ouisiana and S t L ucia. PhD dissertation, Johns Hopkins U niversity, Baltimore MD. , 2001. Ethnicity, Assimilation, and Nation in Plural Suriname. Ethnic and Racial Studies 24:998-1019.
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DANIE L C LI TTL EFIE LDW H AT PR I CE S U G AR? L A ND L A BO R, A ND R E VO LUT ION Sugar, Slavery, and Society: Perspectives on the Caribbean, India, the Mascarenes, and the United States BERNARD MOITT (ed.). Gainesville: U niversity Press of Florida, 2004. vii + 203 pp. ( C loth US $ 65.00) Tropical Babylons: Sugar and the Making of the Atlantic World, 1450-1680 STUAR T B. SCHWAR TZ (ed.). Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2004. xiii + 347 pp. (Paper US $ 22.50) T hese two books illustrate the fascination that sugar, slavery, and the plantation still exercise over the minds of scholars. One of them also reflects an interest in the influence these have had on the modern world. For students of the his tory of these things the S chwartz collection is in many ways the more useful. It seeks to fill a lacuna left by the concentration of monographs on the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, suggesting that we know less about the history of sugar than we thought we did. Perhaps in no other single place is such a range of information on so wide an area presented in such detail for so early a period. R anging from Iberia to the C aribbean and including consumption as well as production of sugar, with a nod to the slave trade and a very useful note on weights and currencies, this volume is a gold mine of information. It considers (briefly) the theoretical meaning as well as the growing of this important crop, contrasting its production in Iberia with that on the A tlantic islands of Madeira and the C anaries, colonized by Iberian powers, and continuing the contrast with S o T om, off the coast of A frica, and on to Brazil and the S panish A merican empire before ending with the British in Barbados. In the transit, it of necessity considers and complicates the meaning of sugar revolution and shows how scholars using that term do not always mean the same thing. John Mc C usker and R ussell Menard, for example, tackling a cornerstone of the traditional interpretation of the development of sugar, argue that there was no sugar revolution in Barbados; economic change had already begun before sugars advent, though sugar may have accelerated it, and yet sugar produc tion was transformed on the island. T hey also undercut, without quite denying,
New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) 80 the significance of the Dutch role in the process. S chwartz, while question ing, clings to the traditional expression if not the traditional outlook, seeing in Barbados the beginning of the sugar revolution (p. 10). In his introduction, Schwartz also contests the notion of sugar as the quintessential capitalist crop (p. 2) and suggests the irony that such a crop was sponsored in the New World by the feudal societies of S pain and Portugal and maintained by communist C uba. He gives a clear and capsule summary of debates around these issues. A s important as the theoretical debates, how ever, are the mechanics of turning crop into commodity. S everal authors dis cuss technological advances, and if one wanted to know what a casual refer ence to a new sugar press might mean, one can learn here. T hey also discuss the distinction between a trapiche (animal driven) and an ingenio (using the Spanish term, or water driven) mill but even in that case differences existed over time and place as to what the terms encompassed. A n illustration of both on p. 15 carries a caption which says it was uncommon to operate both types simultaneously; yet Genero Morel, p. 99, declares that it was not uncommon, in sixteenth-century E spaola at least, to have if not simultaneously to oper ate both types. This is not the only instance in which one has to read care fully to understand what precisely is being claimed. In fact, Morel writes that the trapiche could continue to operate in case of accident or damage at the waterwheel, suggesting they frequently did operate at the same time, though only larger planters could afford them both. While the water-driven mill was more efficient, animal-driven mills were more dependable. It will be no news to those familiar with sugars history that, particularly in the Old World, it was not always or even usually grown by slave labor, and several chapters, based primarily on archival sources, provide minute details about land systems and labor arrangements, revealing that neither bound labor nor extensive units of production had to obtain. T hat such features have been commonly associated with sugar is significant in itself and indicates why attention to this early period is crucial. T he authors reveal succinct regional distinctions, such as that the nature of the soil in Brazil usually obviated the use of plows and fertilizers, which was not always the case in the C aribbean; nor did Brazilians use irrigation, though it was important in S pain, E spaola, and Mexico; Brazilians produced clayed sugar in contrast to the muscovado or brown sugar, shipped from the West Indies, though it is left for an author in Moitt to explain the West Indian divergence. T he importance of Native A merican labor in early New World production is reaffirmed and a connection is made between their exploitation and that of A fricans. Herbert Klein makes the interesting point that in Brazil, Native A merican sweat made possible the importation of A fricans by creating the capital needed to purchase them, and this extended beyond their initial use in cultivation but included their mining of gold and silver; this observation would apply equally to Mexico and other regions that first used native peoples. T here was an inter-island slave trade in
81 REVIEW AR T IC L E S native peoples to support production in E spaola before the transatlantic trade supplanted it. A chapter on Iberia pushes back the baseline for E uropean use of sugar, highlighting the effects of sugar on E uropean cuisine and contrasting E uropean and Middle E astern dietary practices. In reviewing the various methods for organizing production in Iberia and Iberian possessions, it becomes easy to understand why the sugar estate took the name ingenio or engenho in those regions, referring to the mill, instead of plantation, referring to the size of unit and structure of labor, as in E nglish colonies. The presence or absence of an efficient milling process made the difference between sugar as a commercial export and a crop of local util ity. When sugar went to the West Indies, its role as a commercial item was clearly assumed and the importance of finding and organizing land and labor were foremost considerations. Producers in the two regions emphasized dif ferent things, which the two terms ingenio and engenho signify. T he collection edited by Moitt partly seeks to dispel common mispercep tions about the way sugar is or has been raised, but treats as well the physical, emotional, and psychological effects of the sugar regime upon A frican slaves and upon those who replaced them in the fields. While S chwartzs collection is historical, Moitts is interdisciplinary, including literature and sociology along with history, and while S chwartz moves from an early period to the seven teenth century Moitt goes from the seventeenth to the twentieth-first centu r y. In that sense they are complementary. Moitts focus is the C aribbean but includes production in India and postemancipation labor struggles in L ouisiana. L iterary chapters compare writings in the French and British C aribbean and the C aribbean and the Mascarenes in an attempt, as S ada Niang expresses it (p. 49), to round out the ... sociohistorical experience. In this way and others, Moitt places more emphasis on the plight and behavior of the laborer than on the structure of the estate or organization of the industry. A uthors in his collec tion are at least as concerned about the interior lives of slaves or A sian contract laborers as about their external circumstances and they make some interesting points: A lthough indentured laborers from India were theoretically protected by a legal document, they suffered the same loss of personal freedom, confine ment in tight and squalid living quarters, and corporal punishment as slaves. T hey suffered the additional indignity in the French C aribbean, as Niang reports on the work of Guadeloupian artist E rnest Moutoussamy, of losing their name and language as well: French, and not the existing crole is the overseers language and actualizes the official parameters of their enslavement (p. 45), as the worker is handed a passbook with his official designation, including to whom he belongs, what he does and is to be called, in a language he cannot read. T heir alienation was likely therefore to be greater than those brought to the British West Indies where E nglish was spoken, even if they did not claim that language as their own either. T hese authors also add a gender dimension, reminding us, for example, that Barbados and the Bahamas stand as exceptions
New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) 82 to the general rule that C aribbean slaves could not reproduce themselves, that women outnumbered men in the fields and generally worked harder, and that women were prominent among those killed or maimed in the mills, involved in an industrial pursuit many might think was confined to men. It is clear, however, that S chwartzs volume is closer to the cutting edge of research than Moitts, the downside of which is that many of the essays, based on archival research, sometimes contain more information on arcane features of local sugar production than one not especially concerned about that particu lar region would care to know. But these details can be passed over quickly to reach the still useful conclusion. Moitts collection, though containing original work, is more synthetic and reinforces advances already made. Moitts study of marronage in the French C aribbean, for example, sheds light on the way planters enforced the code noir showing few gender distinctions except that they reserved mutilation of the nose for women, and punished new slaves who absconded more leniently than seasoned or creole ones for the obvious reason that hamstringing as obliged by law would have robbed them of the use of too many slaves. T hey saved that punishment for those who had already proved themselves useless. E specially important is the finding that enforce ment became more flexible in the eighteenth century, as strict accordance with the seventeenth-century enactments had proved to be inconsistent with effec tive and economical maintenance of the slave regime. But the fact that slaves persisted in running away despite harsh punishment is not news, nor is the call for continued study of the psychology of slave resistence. In like measure, Moitt and Horace Henriquess desire to counteract the model of the planta tion as a total institution by focusing on the slave and postemancipation populations in Guiana is a version within the West Indian or S outh A merican context of the scholarship that followed S tanley E lkins (1959) in the U nited S tates and therefore is not a conceptual breakthrough. Yet they give the idea a peculiar twist by looking at class and ethnic divisions (among both Blacks and Whites) as evidence of the absence of totality, and show that lack of unity among Blacks doomed an otherwise successful rebellion in Berbice. Moitt repeats perfectly acceptable expressions of the scholarly consensus that give one pause after reading the essays in S chwartz. S o that, for example, while it may be absolutely true, as Moitt quotes Philip Curtins Plantation Complex (1990) that the first plantation slaves were neither blacks nor Africans of any color, (pp. 2, 3) the force of discussion about labor in the Mediterranean and the Atlantic outside of So T om in Schwartz features the variety of labor arrangements and the relative paucity of slaves. None of this is inconsistent with the basic principles of what we already knew but the new evidence modifies the picture and shifts the emphasis. In particular, the term sugar revolution in reference to Barbados causes some unease after reading McCusker and Menard who say there was a sugar boom but no revolution; the adoption of sugar was part of a process of experimentation as
83 REVIEW AR T IC L E S planters tried first tobacco, then cotton, then indigo, and finally sugar, and a host of changes usually associated with sugar had already occurred. The distinctive Barbados contribution was to develop an integrated rather than dispersed sugar plantation, using gang labor, driven by the whip. T hey think the term has outlived its usefulness. If one accepts Schwartzs definition of it (p. 2) as the process of forming large estates using coerced labor in semiindustrial productive activity geared towards export, it may still apply, and Schwartz as well as Moitt continue to use it. McCusker and Menard may have changed the equation but it is unlikely scholars will soon abandon the terminology. The point is that essays in Schwartz have made this and other concepts problematic, and they may never be used as comfortably again. It is not clear what precisely Moitt means when he asserts (p. 2) that only after it arrived in the Caribbean following centuries of migration did the sugarcane become a viable and commercially successful crop. This might have been news to people in Madeira, the Canaries, So T om, and Brazil. Perhaps this is the danger of an unreflexive use of words like revolution. But Schwartz points out that technological advances notwithstanding, on the whole, the sugar plantation was not very innovative. The attachment to an archaic labor system was common, and there was no linear or sustained increase in either labor productivity or plantation efficiency. After a century of technological progress, slaves on eighteenth-century Jamaican plantations were only 20 percent more productive than those of early C uba. A lthough Moitt solicited some chapters, his collection evidently grew mostly out of a conference on sugar, which may partly explain its diversity, and it lacks S chwartzs cohesion. Its greatest usefulness is to remind us that A sian populations share the C aribbean with A fricans and E uropeans (and what might be left of native populations), and that many if not most of them also came to work sugar. If S chwartzs collection is an example of what good A tlantic history can offer and why such work should be transnational, Moitt suggests that the perspective should be global. Moitt can appeal to a wider range of scholars but S chwartz is probably more useful to historians. Yet histo rians should not neglect the psychological and social dimension Moitt offers, and his authors are especially effective in adducing current relevance. No seri ous scholar of sugar and the plantation should be without S chwartzs book, and no one curious about sugars social dimensions should ignore Moitts.
New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) 84REFERENCE SCUR T IN, PHI L I P D., 1990. The Rise and Fall of the Plantation Complex: Essays in Atlantic History. C ambridge: C ambridge U niversity Press. ELKINS, ST ANLEY, 1959. Slavery: A Problem in American Institutional and Intellectual Life. C hicago: U niversity of C hicago Press. DANIE L C LI TTL EFIE LD Department of History U niversity of S outh C arolina C olumbia SC 29208, U S A < L ittleD C @gwm.sc.edu>
RICHAR D PRICE & SA LL Y PRICEB OOK S H EL F 2005/2006 After Bookshelf 2004 appeared, a reviewer who was late with a submis sion dashed off an email: As soon as the latest issue of the NWIG arrived, I ripped open the packaging and flipped to the Bookshelf review to make sure I had not been inducted into the [ C aribbeanist] Hall of S hame. WH E W!! S afe for now ... T en others, however, have remained silent past the witching hour, obligating us to report, in our traditionally discreet manner, the reason for which the books they agreed to review have not received attention in the pages of the NWIG A s always, we would be delighted if any of them sent in their reviews and would gladly publish them forthwith. The Cuban Economy edited by Archibald M. Ritter (Pittsburgh P A: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2004. vii + 248 pp., cloth US$ 29.95) ( S l L L s) States of Nature: Science, Agriculture, and Environment in the Spanish Caribbean, 1760-1940, by Stuart McCook (Austin: University of T exas Press, 2002. xi + 201 pp., paper US $ 22.95) ( L e S z) Ghosts of Slavery: A Literary Archaeology of Black Womens Lives by Jenny S harpe (Minneapolis: U niversity of Minnesota Press, 2003. xxvi + 187 pp., paper US $ 17.95) (Fh S h) Punishment, Race, and Gender in Jamaican State Formation, 1780-1870 by Diana Paton (Durham NC: Duke University Press, 2004. xiii + 291 pp., paper US $ 23.95) (Dd T n) Creole Recitations: John Jacob Thomas and Colonial Formation in the Late Nineteenth-Century Caribbean by Faith Smith (Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2002. xxvi + 207 pp., paper US$ 18.50) (Kn A Yn) The Language of Caribbean Poetry: Boundaries of Expression by Lee M. Jenkins (Gainesville: U niversity Press of Florida, 2004. vii + 232 pp., cloth US $ 59.95) ( S t Bn) Culture @ the Cutting Edge: Tracking Caribbean Popular Music by Curwen Best (Kingston: University of West Indies Press, 2004. 259 pp., paper US $25.00) (Ml Vl)
New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) 86 Reclaiming Difference: Caribbean Women Rewrite Postcolonialism by Carine M. Mardorossian (Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2005. x + 187 pp., cloth US $ 49.50) (Jn A m A o) Toussaints Clause: The Founding Fathers and the Haitian Revolution by Gordon S. Brown (Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 2005. xi + 321 pp., cloth US $ 32.00) (Ds Bn) History of Puerto Rico: A Panorama of Its People by Fernando Pic (Princeton NJ: Markus Wiener, 2006. xiv + 351 pp., paper US$ 28.95) (Fo S o) It has become our custom to begin Bookshelf with literary works (which do not receive full reviews in the NWIG ). First, poetry. T wo of the senior figures on the Caribbean poetry scene, douard Glissant and Kamau Brathwaite, offer new books. Glissants La Cohe du Lamentin: Potique V of philosophical-poetic musings in prose on well-worn Glissantian themes: the horrors of mondialisation (standardization directed by ultra-liberal mul tinationals) vs. mondialit (the globalization of the spirit, the world united in new and marvelous ways), the importance of utopias, Latin American art (Matta, Lam, Glissants proposed M2A2 museum in Martinique), la rela tion the herd-like tendencies of tats-Uniens and much else. (Last June at the Caf de Flor in Paris, Glissant became expansive telling us about the word cohe which he likes partly because it is not in any French or Creole dictionary. Its referents include a] the Cohe du Lamentin, a part of the Bay of Lamentin where he swam as a youngster, home to a hundred-year-old toothless shark the children would see swimming under them whose teeth had decayed because of its taste for the sugar left in the water by barrels that fell into the sea as they were being loaded onto the ships, b] a place near the Martiniquan town of S t. Pierre called Fond C ohe, and c] a marine bird found in Guadeloupe [but not in Martinique] that flies with its mouth open and eats mosquitoes as it flies.) Brathwaites Born to Slow Horses (Middletown CT : Wesleyan U niversity Press, 2005, cloth US $ 22.95) is a collection of varied, muscular, vernacular C aribbean poems in the authors video style typogra phy (which he has also called video sycorax, Namestoura/Sycorax and Video/tidalectics style), meant to mark the first publication of the new (?4th phase) of Brathwaites poetry ... a significant transboundary develop ment. We especially enjoyed Brathwaites book which recently won the $50,000 International Griffen Poetry Prize. T wo volumes of new poetry from S t. Martins L asana M. S ekou, 37Poems and The Salt Reaper: Poems from the Flats (both Philipsburg, St. Martin: House of Nehisi, 2005, paper US$ 15.00). T he first, alluding to St. Martins 37-square-mile size, was written while Sekou was visiting Hong Kong and Beijing, and the second features a substantive introduction by master calyp
87 REVIEW AR T IC L E S sonian Dr. Hollis Chalkdust Liverpool. Its eminently political, grounded in C aribbean history, global in scope, yet pleading as always for an indepen dent St. Martin. The Angel Horn : Collected Poems 1927-1997 (Philipsburg, St. Martin: House of Nehisi, 2005, paper US$ 18.00), by St. Vincents late S hake Keane, ranges over his experiences in L ondon, New York, and on the island itself, integrating folk culture and nation language with exhuberance and humor. T hree poetry volumes from different horizons. The Garden of Forgetting (Leeds, UK: Peepal T ree Books, 2005, paper .99), by Gwyneth Barber Wood, gathers intense brief poems that move between Jamaica and E ngland. Caribs Leap: Selected and New Poems of the Caribbean (Leeds, UK: Peepal T ree Books, 2005, paper .99) by Laurence Lieberman, collects this American authors travel poetry, serious and engaged. Tears and Bitter Smiles (Bloomington IN: AuthorHouse, 2005, paper US$ 16.60), by Alfred Reynolds, presents the poems, many translated from French to English, by this Haitian-born U S artist. The Oxford Book of Caribbean Verse edited by Stewart Brown & Mark McWatt (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005, paper US$ 21.50), is a delicious sampler of Caribbean English-language poetry, with briefer selec tions in translation from French, Spanish, and Dutch works, plus a respon sible and uplifting introduction. A nd Yoruba from Cuba: Selected Poems, by Nicols Guilln (Leeds UK: Peepal T ree Books, 2005, .99), is an attrac tive S panishE nglish facing-page presentation, with translations by S alvador OrtizC arboneres, of Guillns works. T urning to novels, Small Island (New York: Picador, 2004, paper US $ 14.00), is A ndrea L evys fourth, winner of the U .K.s Whitbread Book of the Year A ward and the Orange Prize for Fiction, as well as having recently been chosen as the best Orange Prize for Fiction winner over the ten years that the prize has been running. S et in 1940s Jamaica and L ondon, and told in the voices of immigrants and their often reluctant hosts, the book is filled with humor, pathos, and a lot of down-home truth. We recommend it highly. Weve read four engaging first novels. A Simple Distance (New York: A kashic Books, 2006, paper US $ 14.95) is a sparkling debut by K. E S ilva, a C alifornia civil-rights lawyer whose parents hail from the West Indies. Black Marks, by Kirsten Dinnall Hoyte (New York: Akashic Books, 2006, paper US$ 14.95) crosses boundaries of race, sexuality, and geography, including Jamaica, as the protagonist constructs her identity. John Crows Devil (New York: Akashic Books, 2005, cloth US$ 19.95), is Marlon Jamess impres sive, very Jamaican first novel. And Like Heaven (London: Hutchinson, 2006, cloth US$ 29.21), by Niala Maharaj, a T rinidadian now residing in A msterdam, depicts modern T rini life with humor and empathy. Three classic West Indian novels have been reprinted, with useful intro ductions and notes that situate them firmly in their time. William Earles
New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) 88 novel Obi: or, the History of Three-Fingered Jack (Peterborough, Ontario: Broadview Editions, 2005, paper US$ 14.95), first published in London in 1800, with obeah and marronage as central themes, now appears in a new edition with an introduction and notes by S rinivas A ravamudan. T he anony mously authored Marly: or, A Planters Life in Jamaica (Oxford: Macmillan C aribbean, 2005, paper US $ 15.00), edited with a new introduction by Karina Williamson, was written by a Scotsman who had intimate experience with plantation life in Jamaica and published in Glasgow in 1828. Rupert Gray: A Tale in Black and White (Kingston: U niversity of the West Indies Press, 2006, paper US $ 30.00), by S tephen N. C obham, edited by L ise Winer, has exten sive annotations and an introduction by Bridget Brereton, Rhonda Cobham, Mary R immer, and L ise Winer, and was first published in T rinidad in 1907. Four anthologies. Stories from Blue Latitudes: Caribbean Women Writers at Home and Abroad edited by E lizabeth Nunez & Jennifer S parrow (Emeryville CA: Seal Press, 2005, paper US$ 16.95), brings together work by twenty-six writers, mainly well-known but others with emerging reputations. Iron Balloons: Hit Fiction from Jamaicas Calabash Writers Workshop (New York: Akashic Books, 2006, paper US$ 14.95), edited by Colin Channer, anthologizes some of the best new writing from Jamaica hard-hitting, surprising, and compelling. In Noordoostpassanten: 400 jaar Nederlandse verhaalkunst over Suriname, de Nederlandse Antillen en Aruba and Wim Rutgers present some 700 pages of snippets of Dutch travel lit erature about the Caribbean colonies, bracketed by an introduction and paragraph-long biographies of the more than one hundred authors. Travel Narratives from the Age of Discovery: An Anthology edited by Peter C. Mancall (Oxford: Oxford U niversity Press, 2006, paper US $ 24.95), presents thirty seven documents, only four of which concern the C aribbean. Capricious Paradise: Caribbean Tales Told by Lis Twa (Bloomington IN: AuthorHouse, 2005, paper US$ 8.70) is North Carolinian Gilliam Clarkes well-intentioned outsider version of Eastern Caribbean vernacular storytell ing (mainly from Grenada and St. Lucia). A bit of folklore from Curaao slips into Pomegranate Seeds: Latin American Jewish Tales, by Nadia Grosser Nagarajan (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 2005, paper US $ 23.95), which is otherwise concerned with the continent. Elsewhere on the literary scene, Papillote Press, launched in 1998 and specializing in books about Dominica, has for the first time brought between two covers the shorter fiction of Phyllis Shand Allfrey. Introduced by Lizabeth Paravisini-Gebert, It Falls Into Place (2004, paper .99) travels between Dominica, New York, and London, crafting sensitive vignettes of the diverse experiences of West Indians at home and abroad. T he publishing house Vents dailleurs (formerly based in C hteauneuf-leRouge, now in La Roque dAnthron both near Aix-en-Provence), which
89 REVIEW AR T IC L E S full disclosure requires us to recognize as the French publisher of three of our own books, has become a leading publisher of Haitian fiction. Among their recent offerings, we mention the eight remarkable volumes that comprise Franktiennes Mtamorphoses de lOiseau schizophone first published in Haiti in 1996 and 1997 to date, the first four movements have appeared: Dun pur silence inextinguible (2004), Dune bouche ovale (2006), La mduse orpheline (2006), and La nocturne connivence des corps inverss (2006), was awarded the Prix Union Latine de Littratures Romanes for his oeuvre which now includes more than thirty volumes of poetry, fiction, and unclas sifiable Spiralist verbal fireworks, as in these eight schizophone bird books.) Vents dailleurs has also been publishing the prolific, popular work of younger Haitian novelist Gary Victor, A langle des rues parallles (2003, Je sais quand Dieu vient se promener dans mon jardin Le diable dans un th la citronnelle Les cloches de la Brsilienne Le livre dEmma fiction, describing a psychiatric hospital patients memory traces that begin before the Middle Passage. The late Ren Philocttes Massacre River (New York: New Directions Books, 2005, cloth US $ 22.95), published in Haiti in 1989, finds new life in this sensitive translation by Linda Coverdale, accompanied by a preface by E dwidge Danticat (whose Farming of Bones gave her own vision of the 1937 T rujillo-ordered massacre of Haitians that forms the backdrop for Philocttes moving novel), as well as an homage/introduction by L yonel T rouillot. French A ntillean novelists continue to produce at a dizzying pace. R ecent fiction that has come our way includes A bout denfance (Paris: Gallimard, third-person childhood memoirs (following on Antan denfance 1990, and Chemin-dcole 1994), adopting what has become in our eyes a rather cloy ing, formulaic voice to describe his discovery of the penis, the opposite sex, and other mysteries. Fellow croliste Guadeloupean E rnest Ppin celebrates, in Cantique des tourterelles pected, passionate love between two women, one already married. Linguist Jean Bernabs second novel, Partage des anctres (Paris: Ecriture, 2004, into the croliste pot. Experienced novelist Gisle Pineaus Chair piment chronicling one womans interior and erotic life. Le roman dAnansi, ou le fabuleux voyage dune araigne (Gosier, research and notes by J. Picard, is an annotated collection of previously pub
New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) 90 lished texts here translated into French about the fabulous spidermantrickster, organized geographically: Ghana, Ivory Coast, Nigeria, Jamaica, Curaao, Suriname, and French Guiana. The editors clearly mean well and have created a precious little object-of-a-book. But is it correct to describe Two Evenings in Saramaka (a 417-page book published by the U niversity of C hicago Press) as a recording of some fifteen folktales available at present solely to specialists of English, to describe taki-taki in one place as the language of the Boni and another as a creole language close to Sranan (when the language of the Boni/Aluku is in fact a dialect of Ndyuka and taki-taki is in fact a pejorative term for S ranan), or to boldly state that there are approximately 20,000 Suriname Maroons today (when the true figure, available even in French-language sources, is close to 120,000)? In Hotbeds: Black-White Love in Novels from the United States, Africa and the Caribbean, by Pia Theilmann (Zomba, Malawi: Kachere Series, 2004, paper US$ 34.95), the final 80 pages are devoted to plot summaries and analyses of selected C aribbean novels. Encyclopedia of Caribbean Literature edited by D.H. Figueredo (Westport CT : Greenwood Press, 2006, cloth, two volumes, US$ 199.95) con sists of almost 1,000 pages of oneto two-page entries, many written by the editor. It is an uneven effort, marred by errors of fact and interpretation and out-of-date by its appearance. Just for the Francophone Caribbean, for example, under The Csaire family, one finds: Aim and Suzanne are husband and wife writers and philosophers from Martinique ... After 1945, Suzanne Csaire [whose dates are given as 1913 ] chose silence, devoting her life to raising her family, when in fact the C saires separated three years before S uzannes death more than forty years ago. Moreover, theres no entry on Raphal Confiant or Ernest Ppin, and douard Glissant is credited with being one of the four founders of the crolit movement. This is the sort of publication that should have been made available solely online, where it could have benefitted from updates and corrections. On to the social sciences. H.E. Lamur has published a monumental database, Familienaam & verwantschap van gemancipeerde slaven in Suriname: Zoeken naar voorouders/Family Name & Kinship of Emancipated Slaves in Suriname: Tracing Ancestors ( A msterdam: KI T Publishers, 2004, 2 based mainly on the emancipation records compiled in 1863 when S uriname slave owners recorded their human assets in order to receive the 300-guil der per head compensation offered by the government. (A rival project to publish these archival materials by Okke ten Hove, Heinrich E. Helstone & Wim Hoogbergen, Surinaamse Emancipatie 1863: Familienamen en plan tages and Surinaamse Emancipatie 1863 Paramaribo: Slaven en eigenaren [ A msterdam & U trecht: R ozenberg Publishers & CLACS & IB S 2003/2004, NWIG for review, but a useful
91 REVIEW AR T IC L E S review that compares the two projects may be found in Oso 24:39093.) The entries include, for each emancipated person, the slave name, first name, (new) family name, birth year, kinship data (often from additional sources), occupation, crop (for field hands), plantation, owner, and district. A s with emancipation registers from elsewhere in the A mericas, these docu ments should provide grist for many a historians mill. Anthropologist Mara Isabel Quiones Arocho, who is notable among Puerto Ricans for having conducted her doctoral dissertation research out side the Hispanophone realm, in Barbados, presents in El fin del reino de lo propio: Ensayos de antropologa cultural (Mexico: Siglo XXI, 2004, paper US$ 11.95) a series of interrogations about difference and place the politics and poetics of alterity in ethnographic discourse and practice rang ing from an analysis of contemporary Puerto R ican beauty parlors to a wom ans reminiscences of the Bajan canefield riots of 1937. T wo excellent books have been published by the Archives dpartemen tales de la Martinique and edited by the director, Dominique T affin. T he first, Moreau de Saint-Mry ou les ambiguts dun crole des Lumires (Fortde-France: Socit des Amis des archives et de la recherche sur le patri international colloquium held in 2004 to commemorate the bicentennial of Haitian independence and examine the varied facets of the career of Moreau, who was born in Martinique and spent his first nineteen years on the island. The second, Le pays du volcan: Guide des sources de lhistoire de SaintPierre, de sa rgion et des ruptions de la montagne Pele (Fort-de-France: of every archival trace, in all countries of the world, of the history of SaintPierre and especially of the great eruption of 1902. Vieux-Pont ou les oublis de la mangrove: Urbanisation, marginalisa tion la Martinique Serge Domi & William Rolle, is a 90-page social-science discussion of the history, present, and future of Martiniques most notorious crack neighbor hood, the mangrove of Lamentin. Anthropologist Grard Collomb pres ents and edits, with an excellent introduction and notes, Les Indiens de la Sinnamary: Journal du pre Jean de la Mousse en Guyane (1684-1691) this Jesuits experiences and observations, particularly among the Galibis (Kalina), to the west of Cayenne. Louis Sickings Frontires dOutreMer: La France et les Pays-Bas dans le monde atlantique au XIXe sicle pages devoted to border politics on the island of Saint Martin and along the Marowijne/Maroni R iver, providing the richest account to date of the issues surrounding the Lawa-T apanahoni contested area. Christine Chivallons La diaspora noire des Amriques: Expriences et thories partir de la Carabe
New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) 92 attempt at once to introduce Anglophone thinking of the past twenty-five years about the A frican diaspora and the Black A tlantic into French academic discourse and to provide a critique of its leading ideas. For decades now, French social science has largely ignored the Caribbean and the rest of the Black Americas, so this book, by engaging the theoretical contributions of the region, is a welcome sign of change. On to photography. In Gens de pays: Un visage de la Martinique (Gros Morne, Martinique: ditions T races Habitation Saint-tienne, 2006, n.p.), the islands most gifted photographer, Jean-Luc de Laguarigue, presents more than two hundred pages of portraits, usually of a single person, some times a couple, occasionally a family, identified simply by names, places, and dates. From Aim Csaire and douard Glissant to workers in the cane or distillery, his classic Hasselblad engages and rivets its subjects, bring ing back to the viewer a strong sense of humanity. This masterful project, conceived as an antidote to the clichd Caribbean photobooks designed for coffee tables, stimulates active reflection, aided by a provocative preface by philosopher Guillaume Pigeard de Gurbert. Fotografien van Suriname: Paramaribo, de spoorweg en de districten in de jaren 1900-1914 by G.C. Zijlmans (Barendrecht, Netherlands: Batavia Publishing, 2006, cloth, n.p.) presents forty-eight photos made by Cornelis Atzes Hoekstra, pastor of the Lutheran church in Paramaribo, in the first decade of the twentieth century, along with more than one hundred previously published photos taken by a range of amateur and professional photographers (Eugen Klein having the greatest number). The subject of each photo is identified and briefly dis cussed in vintage colonial history style. Cuba Classics: A Celebration of Vintage American Automobiles by C hristopher P. Baker (New York: Interlink Books, 2004, cloth US$ 29.95), is a coffee-table book chock full of engag ing photo journalism, focusing on 1950s dream machines. Cuba, the Natural Beauty by Clyde Butcher (Ochopee FL: Big Cypress Gallery, 2005, cloth US$ 29.95) presents a gallery of black-and-white photos from a recent trip. Cuba: Portrait of an Island featuring photographs by Donald Nausbaum and text by Ron Base (New York: Interlink Books, 2005, cloth US$ 29.95), is another attractive coffee-table presentation of the island, this time by two C anadian residents. The Academia Dominicana de la Historia has published an homenaje to the late Harry Hoetink, who devoted so many years to studies of that country. Ensayos Caribeos by Harry Hoetink (Santo Domingo: Academia Dominicano de la Historia, 2006, n.p.) gathers together four of the masters essays preceded by an introduction by Frank Moya Pons and followed by an excellent bibliography that lists all of Hoetinks writings, from book reviews and occasional pronouncements to major books, as well as works that assess his various contributions
93 REVIEW AR T IC L E S As for new dictionaries, Dikshonario Papiamentu-Hulandes / Woordenboek Papiaments-Nederlands (Zutphen, Netherlands: Walburg Pers, 2005, ful unidirection a l 495-page Papiamentu to Dutch dictionary. A nd the Prisma woordenboek Sranantongo-Nederlands Nederlands-Sranantongo (Utrecht: two-way affair, with a selection of S ranan proverbs at the end and some color plates in the middle, which identify various typical fruits, vegetables, fish, and cultural items, some (e.g., the agida) unfortunately mislabeled. A mlange of C aribbean books will not get full reviews in the NWIG for one reason or another Frantz Fanon: A Portrait by A lice C herki (Ithaca NY: C ornell U niversity Press, 2006, paper US $ 24.95), focuses almost exclusively on the period during the A lgerian R evolution when the author was Fanons colleague. Jos Mart: An Introduction, by Oscar Montero (New York: Palgrave MacMillan, 2004, US $ 22.95), is, indeed, a useful introduction to this towering icon. In Quitting America: The Departure of a Black Man From His Native Land (New York: Plume Press, 2004, paper US $ 15.00), activ ist R andall R obinson speaks out against the U nited S tates from his adopted home in S t. Kitts. Ethnicity, Class, and Nationalism: Caribbean and ExtraCaribbean Dimensions edited by A nton L A llahar ( L anham MD: L exington Books, 2005, paper US $ 26.95), is a strange brew of political science and soci ology, covering several C aribbean sites as well as T urkey and Fiji. Slipstream: A Daughter Remembers by R achel Manley ( T oronto: Vintage C anada, 2001, paper US $ 13.50), is a gracefully written memoir of the authors relation ship with her father and his friends, a rewarding read for anyone interested in the Manleys life and times. Temples of Trinidad, by A nthony de Verteuil (Port of S pain: L itho Press, 2004, cloth n.p.) is an ambitious architectural tour of churches, mosques, temples, and other houses of worship throughout the island, with text and photos, by this prolific T rinidad author. More miscellanea. Pan-Africanism in Barbados: An Analysis of the Activities of the Major 20th-Century Pan-African Formations in Barbados by R odney Worrell (Washington D C : New A cademia Publishing, 2002, paper US $ 12.00), presents a brief history. Ciphers of History: Latin American Readings for a Cultural Age by E nrico Mario S ant (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004, cloth US $ 75.00), collects seven of the authors essays on poetry, narrative, film, and intellectual history, with the latter part of the book devoted to C uba. Christopher Columbus and the Enterprise of the Indies: A Brief History with Documents by Geoffrey S ymcox & Blair S ullivan (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005, cloth US $ 45.00) is a useful documentary resource. Laatste gouverneur, eerste president: De eeuw van Johan Ferrier, Surinamer by John Jansen van Galen ( L eiden, Netherlands: KI TL V, 2005, based on the author-journalists interviews with the 95-year-old Ferrier in the
New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) 94 spring and summer of 2005. Grassroots Governance? Chiefs in Africa and the Afro-Caribbean edited by Donald I. R ay & P. S R eddy ( C algary: U niversity of C algary Press, 2003, cloth US $ 49.95) includes a single C aribbean case study (Jamaica). X Marks the Spot: The Archaeology of Piracy edited by R ussell K. S kowronek & C harles R E wen (Gainesville: U niversity Press of Florida, 2006, cloth US $ 59.95), presents scholarly considerations of various wrecks and other sites associated with pirates. Searching for Sugar Mills: An Architectural Guide to the Eastern Caribbean, by S uzanne Gordon & A nne Hersh (Oxford: Macmillan C aribbean, 2005, cloth US $ 24.95), presents walk ing and driving tours of heritage-type sites in A nguilla, A ntigua, Barbados, the British and U S Virgins, Dominica, Grenada, S aba, S t. Barts, S t. E ustatius, S t. Kitts and Nevis, S t. L ucia, S t. Martin, S t. Vincent and the Grenadines, and T rinidad and T obago, with Martinique and Guadeloupe inexplicably omit ted. The Jewish Diaspora in Latin America and the Caribbean: Fragments of Memory edited by Kristin R uggiero (Brighton, U K: S ussex A cademic Press, 2005, cloth US $ 67.50), includes three C aribbean chapters two on C uba and a fascinating contribution by William F. S Miles on the role of Jews (and the ways they are regarded) in Martinique, with much information that was entire ly new to us. In Pedagogies of Crossing: Meditations on Feminism, Sexual Politics, Memory, and the Sacred (Durham N C : Duke U niversity Press, 2005, paper US $ 23.95), M. Jacqui A lexander gathers together a series of her essays on queer studies and other transnational feminist theorizing, much of it with a strong engagement of C aribbean realities. In Tropicana Nights: The Life and Times of the Legendary Cuban Nightclub by R osa L owinger & Ofelia Fox (New York: Harcourt, 2005, cloth US $ 26.00), the owners widow gives a journalist the low-down on what went on in this most legendary of Batista-era Havana nightspots. In Latina Legacies: Identity, Biography, and Community (Oxford: Oxford U niversity Press, 2005, paper US $ 19.95), editors Vicki L R uiz & Virginia S nchez Korrol gather together portraits of the life and times of fifteen women, including five from the C aribbean. Interpreting Spanish Colonialism: Empires, Nations, and Legends edited by C hristopher S chmidtNowara & John M. Nieto-Philips ( A lbuquerque: U niversity of New Mexico Press, 2005, paper US $ 32.95), includes one chapter on C uba and another on Puerto R ico. The Health and Well-Being of Caribbean Immigrants in the United States edited by A nnette M. Mahoney (New York: Haworth Press, 2004, paper US $ 24.95), is a sort of primer for social workers. T he reviewer to whom we sent Religion Versus Empire? British Protestant Missionaries and Overseas Expansion, 1700-1914 by A ndrew Porter (Manchester, U K: Manchester U niversity Press, 2004, paper US $ 29.95), reported that there was not sufficient coverage of the C aribbean to warrant an NWIG review. Several in the realm of economics. Institutions, Performance, and the Financing of Infrastructure Services in the Caribbean edited by Abhas Kumar Jha (Washington DC: World Bank, 2005, paper n.p.), explores the
95 REVIEW AR T IC L E S relationship between infrastructure investment and economic growth in vari ous C aribbean countries. In Lessons from NAFTA for Latin America and the Caribbean by Daniel Lederman, William F. Maloney & Luis Servn (Palo A lto CA : S tanford U niversity Press and World Bank, 2005, paper US $ 29.95), Mexicos experience is analyzed in detail to assess potential effects on other nations that might join. Foreign Capital Inflows to China, India, and the Caribbean: Trends, Assessments, and Determinants by Arindam Banik and Pradip K. Bhaumik (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006, cloth US $ 80.00), is a highly technical work of economics, for which the Caribbean serves as one of several case studies. T wo on Haiti. Mtamorphoses / Metamorphoses: Sculptures et fer des Bsmetal dHati / Sculptures and iron pieces from the Bsmetal of Haiti & Philippe Bernard, is a stunning bilingual catalogue in color, featuring some three dozen sculptures by the metal masters of Croix-des-Bouquets, where oil-drums have been transformed into mainly flat cut-outs of mytho logical (often Vaudou-inspired) beasts as well as historical figures such as Dessalines. The book relates the history of the art as well as the story of its leading practitioners. In Canada in Haiti: Waging War on the Poor Majority by Yves E ngler & A nthony Fenton (Vancouver: RE D Publishing, 2005, paper US$ 14.95), two activists expose the role of Canada (and the United States and France) in the overthrow of President A ristide. Books for the kitchen: Authentic Recipes from Jamaica by John DeMers & Eduardo Fuss (North Clarendon VT : Periplus, 2005, cloth US$ 12.95), presents attractive recipes (as well as mouth-watering photos) that make us eager to return home to Martinique to try them out. A Taste of Cuba by Beatriz Llamas (New York: Interlink Books, 2005, cloth US$ 26.95), with charming drawings by Ximena Maier, presents attractive text and numer ous recipes that cry out for testing in the kitchen and at the table. From its opening map labeled Caribbean, which features the (unlabeled) island of St. Vincent at its southernmost edge, to its statement that mangos arrived in the Caribbean sometime near the end of the nineteenth century, L ynn Marie Houstons Food Culture in the Caribbean (Westport CT : Greenwood Press, 2005, cloth US$ 49.95) fails to measure up. Puerto Rican Dishes, by Berta Cabanillas & Carmen Ginorio (San Juan: Editorial de la Universidad de Puerto R ico, 2002, paper US $ 6.95) is a reprint of the fourth edition of this 1956 cookbook, written by specialists in home economics. T hree works that will interest high school students and casual adult read ers. Historian Gad Heuman has written The Caribbean in a series called Brief Histories (London: Hodder Arnold, 2006, paper .99). His own experience with British Caribbean materials makes those parts of the book stronger than the rest, and the books general brevity of coverage means that it may not be for most readers of this journal. Makers of the Caribbean by
New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) 96 James Ferguson (Kingston: Ian R andle, 2005, paper US $ 12.95), briskly but responsibly introduces selected Caribbean leaders in history, politics, the arts, sports, and so forth for the youth market. The Atlantic Slave Trade by Johannes Postma (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2005, paper US $ 24.95) is a summary aimed at high school students. Books for which we would like to have published a review but could not find a willing reviewer, despite our best efforts, include the following (alphabetically by title): After Fidel: The Inside Story of Castros Regime and Cubas Next Leader by Brian L atell (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005, cloth US $ 24.95). Black Cosmopolitanism: Racial Consciousness and Transnational Identity in the Nineteenth-Century Americas by Ifeoma Kiddoe Nwankwo (Philadelphia: U niversity of Pennsylvania Press, 2005, cloth US $ 59.95). Bond Without Blood: A History of Ethiopian and New World Black Relations, 1896-1991 by Fikru Negash Gebrekidan (T renton NJ: Africa World Press, 2005, paper US $ 29.95). Caribbean Security in the Age of Terror edited by Ivelaw L loyd Griffith (Miami: Ian R andle, 2004, paper US $ 29.95). The Castro Obsession: U.S. Covert Operations Against Cuba 19591965 by Don Bohning (Washington DC: Potomac Books, 2005, cloth US $ 29.95). The Challenges of Public Higher Education in the Hispanic Caribbean edited by Maria J. Canino & Silvio T orres-Saillant (Princeton NJ: Markus Wiener, 2004, paper US $ 24.95). Chanting Down the New Jerusalem: The Politics of Belonging to Saint Martin and Sint Maarten by Francio Guadeloupe (Amsterdam: Rozenberg, The Chinese in the Caribbean edited by Andrew Wilson (Princeton NJ: Markus Wiener, 2004, paper US $ 22.95). Corruption in Cuba: Castro and Beyond, by S ergio Daz-Briquets & Jorge PrezL pez ( A ustin: U niversity of T exas Press, 2006, paper US $ 21.95). Creoles, Contact, and Language Change: Linguistic and Social Implications edited by Genevive Escure & Armin Schwegler (Philadelphia P A: John Benjamins, 2004, cloth US $ 168.00). Cuban Palimpsests by Jos Quiroga (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2005, paper US $ 19.95). The Cuban Revolution: Years of Promise by T eo A. Babn, Jr. & Victor Andres T riay (Gainesville: University of Florida Press, 2005, cloth US $ 34.95). Environmental Issues in Latin America and the Caribbean edited by A ldemaro R omero & S arah E West ( L eusden, Netherlands: S pringer, 2005, cloth US $ 129.00).
97 REVIEW AR T IC L E S The Experience of Return Migration: Caribbean Perspectives edited by R obert B. Potter, Dennis C onway & Joan Phillips ( A ldershot, U K: A shgate, 2005, cloth US $ 99.95). Haiti, Rising Flames from Burning Ashes by Hyppolite Pierre (Lanham MD: U niversity Press of A merica, 2006, paper US $ 49.00). Jamaican Folk Medicine: A Source of Healing by A rvilla Payne-Jackson & Mervyn C A lleyne (Kingston: U niversity of the West Indies Press, 2004, paper US $ 30.00). Living at the Borderlines: Issues in Caribbean Sovereignty and Development edited by C ynthia Barrow-Giles & Don D. Marshall (Kingston: Ian R andle, 2003, paper US $ 24.95). Obas Story: Rastafari, Purification and Power by George D. Colman ( T renton NJ: A frica World Press, 2005, paper US $ 19.95). Not Without Love: Memoirs by C onstance Webb (Hanover NH: U niversity Press of New E ngland, 2003, cloth US $ 24.95). Pierre Toussaint: A Biography by Arthur Jones (New York: Doubleday, 2003, cloth US $ 24.95). Sucking Salt: Caribbean Women Writers, Migration, and Survival by Meredith M. Gadsby (Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 2006, cloth US $ 39.95). Unvanquished: Cubas Resistance to Fidel Castro by Enrique Encinosa ( L os A ngeles: Pureplay Press, 2004, cloth US $ 26.00). U.S. Intervention in British Guiana: A Cold War Story by S tephen G. R abe ( C hapel Hill: U niversity of North C arolina Press, 2005, paper US $ 19.95). A number of new editions of Caribbean works have been published during the past few years. One is a new, thoroughly revised and augmented edition of Pierre Grenand, Christian Moretti, Henri Jacquemin & Marie-Franoise Prvosts monumental, 816-page Phamacopes traditionnelles en Guyane: Croles, Waypi, Palikur published in 1987. With color photos of most of the plants discussed, plus chemical analyses of many of their properties, this is a stunning work. We did see small errors (e.g., the authors dont get Quassies discovery of Quassia amara quite right) and were unable to find various plants that we know are part of the C reole pharmacopeia. On the whole, though, a landmark publica tion. T he second edition of Bernardo Vegas Como los Americanos ayudaon a colocar a Balaguer en el poder en 1966 ( S anto Domingo: Fundacin C ultural Dominicana, 2004, paper n.p.) includes newly released transcriptions of tele phone conversations between President Johnson and close advisors which support Vegas analysis of the way the State Department, the CIA, the FBI, and A merican troops in the Dominican R epublic combined to determine the outcome of the 1966 election.
New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) 98 With its original (ca. 1969) foreword by Graham Greene and a new, sober preface by Diederich, the reprint of Papa Doc & the Tontons Macoutes by Bernard Diederich & A l Burt (Princeton NJ: Markus Wiener, 2005, paper US $ 28.95) remains the classic journalistic account of the period. Written in Blood: The Story of the Haitian People 1492-1995 by R obert Debs Heinl & Nancy Gordon Heinl, and revised by Michael Heinl (New York: U niversity Press of A merica, 2005, paper US $ 49.00), is the third edition of this thick journalistic history originally published twenty-seven years earlier. The African Experience in Spanish America by L eslie B. R out, Jr. (Princeton NJ: Markus Wiener, 2003, paper US $ 24.95), reprints this pioneering work, with an introduction by Miriam Jimnez R oman and Juan Flores. Afro-Cuban Myths: Yemay and other Orishas by R mulo L achataer (Princeton NJ: Markus Wiener, 2004, paper US $ 24.95), is an E nglish-language version of L achataers 1938 Oh, Mo Yemay! with an introduction by Jorge C astellanos. Monsieur Toussaint: A Play by douard Glissant (Boulder C O: L ynne R ienner, 2005, paper US $ 15.95), is an excellent E nglish transla tion, by Michael Dash in collaboration with Glissant himself, of this classic. Gardening in the Tropics by Olive S enior ( T oronto: Insomniac Press, 2005, paper US $ 9.95) gives new life to this robust collection of poetry first pub lished a decade earlier. Main Currents in Caribbean Thought: The Historical Evolution of Caribbean Society in its Ideological Aspects, 1492-1900 by Gordon K. L ewis ( L incoln: U niversity of Nebraska Press, 2004, paper US $ 22.00), is the welcome reprinting of this classic of C aribbean intellectual history, now with a new introduction by A nthony P. Maingot. R eprints of more recent C aribbean books. Caribbean Currents: Caribbean Music from Rumba to Reggae by Peter Manuel with Kenneth Bilby and Michael Largey (Philadelphia P A: T emple University Press, 2006, paper US$ 25.95), is a revised and expanded edition of this excellent overview. Transatlantic Slavery: Against Human Dignity edited by Anthony T ibbles (Liverpool, UK: Liverpool University Press, 2005, paper US$ 40.00), is the second edition of a fine catalogue that accompanied the opening of the T ransatlantic Slave Gallery at Mercyside Maritime Museum in 1994. Cave of the Jagua: The Mythological World of the Tanos by Antonio M. Stevens-Arroyo (Scranton P A: University of Scranton Press, 2006, paper US$ 24.00), is the second, revised edition of this 1988 work. Slavery and the French and Haitian Revolutionists by Anna Julia Cooper, edited and translated by Frances R ichardson Keller (New York: R owman & L ittlefield, 2006, paper US$ 29.95), reprints the 1988 Edwin Mellen Press edition. The History of Cuba by Clifford L. Staten (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005), reprints the Greenwood 2003 edition of this 150-page summary his tory. A Dictionary of Common Trinidad Hindi, by Kumar Mahabir ( S an Juan, T rinidad & T obago: Chakra Publishing House, 2004, paper US$ 10.00), is the third edition of this useful little volume. Americas: The Changing Face
99 REVIEW AR T IC L E S of Latin America and the Caribbean by Peter Winn (Berkeley: U niversity of C alifornia Press, 2006, paper US $ 24.95), is the third edition, revised, of this wide-ranging textbook. And reprints of historical classics. In Writing From the Edge of the World: The Memoirs of Darin, 1514-1527, by Gonzalo Fernndez de Oviedo ( T uscaloosa: U niversity of A labama Press, 2006, paper US $ 22.50), translator G.F. Dilkle presents that part of the Historia general y natural de las Indias that deals with Oviedos years in Panama. The West Indies Before and Since Slave Emancipation: Comprising the Windward & Leeward Islands Military Command Founded on Notes and Observations Collected During a Three Years Residence by John Davy ( L ondon: Frank C ass, 2005, cloth US$ 125.00), is a digitalized printing of the facsimile edition of 1971, which reproduced the original 1854 publication. Black Rebellion: Five Slave Revolts by Thomas Wentworth Higginson (New York: Cosimo Classics, 2005, paper US $ 10.75), is another reprinting of this abolitionist classic. The Economic Future of the Caribbean edited by E. Franklin Frazier & Eric Williams (Dover M A : T he Majority Press, 2004, paper US $ 19.95), reprints the slim 1944 original, with a new preface by Erica Williams Connell and a new introduction by T ony Martin. Finally, we should mention several recent reeditions and translations of our own work. Les Arts des Marrons ( L a R oque d A nthron: Vents dailleurs, expanded version of the 1999 Beacon Press edition nice enough to make us regret that we ever published it (in E nglish and later in Dutch) in standard format with black and white illustrations. El presidiario y el coronel (San Juan: Ediciones Callejn, 2005, paper US$ 24.95), by Richard Price, with a new preface by Antonio T Daz-Royo, is an excellent Spanish translation of the 1998 Beacon Press original. We also note a second edition in English of R ichard Prices The Convict and the Colonel: A Story of Colonialism and Resistance in the Caribbean (Durham NC: Duke University Press, 2006, paper US $ 22.95), with a new afterword by the author, as well as a new edi tion of Sally Prices Arts primitifs: Regards civiliss (Paris: ENSB-a, 2006, Maurice Godelier and a new afterword by the author. Romare Bearden: Une dimension caribenne (La Roque dAnthron: Vents dailleurs, 2006, Romare Bearden: The Caribbean Dimension (Philadelphia P A: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2006, cloth US$ 49.95), which will be reviewed in due course in NWIG
B OOK R E VI E W S Caribbean Rum: A Social and Economic History FREDERICK H. SMITH Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2005. xvi + 339 pp. (Cloth US$ 59.95)FRANK L IN W KNIGH T Department of History Johns Hopkins U niversity Baltimore MD 21218, U S A
102 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) potatoes or oicou from manioc/cassava, were either brewed or fermented. With the rise of sugar production in Barbados around the middle of the sev enteenth century, distilled spirits, as the observant Richard Ligon noted in 1657, became an indispensable corollary of sugar-making. By 1700 Smith estimates that Barbadian sugar producers were already distilling approxi mately one million gallons of rum, and consuming between 85 and 90 per cent of that on the island. Not surprisingly, for centuries afterwards Barbados would remain the locale of the highest per capita consumption of rum in the world. Unfortunately the histories of sugar and slavery often fail to include the importance of rum, just as histories of mining in Peru overlook the impor tance of coca. Yet both rum and coca were essential to production routine. R um production expanded along with the phenomenal increase of sugar production in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Demand was driven by several factors. A lcohol consumption formed an integral part of many E uropean, A frican, and indigenous A merican rituals. S lave owners regarded it as a cheap, although minimally nutritious, food supplement on their estates. Medical practitioners prescribed rum as an antidote for a variety of ills, from the common cold to scurvy. Buccaneers quaffed it by the gallons and imperial navies copied the habit, issuing substantial daily rations to their seamen for more than three centuries. Ironically, mercantilist policies restrained the pro duction of rum in the French and S panish A mericas but stimulated production in E nglish A merica. By the end of the eighteenth century rum was a widely popular drink not only throughout the A mericas but also in A frica and E urope. In an excellent chapter called Identity, Danger, and E scape in C aribbean Slave Societies Smith meticulously examines many ways in which rum seeped into the iconic and ritualistic structure of C aribbean societies. A frican religious practice used rum to establish a link between the living and the dead. Free and slave believed that collegiality required drinking rum. It fired the zeal of colonists, slave rebels, and pirates alike. Along with the increas ing popularity of rum, therefore, came a sustained, although minimally successful, attack in the Caribbean by evangelical Christian reformers and temperance advocates on rum consumption. These attacks would grow dur ing the nineteenth and twentieth centuries when the T emperance Movement achieved the legal prohibition of alcohol consumption throughout the U nited States of America for almost fifteen years. Even across the Caribbean rum consumption declined. But the stimulus for rum production also ran parallel to the forces of prohibition. The devastation of European vineyards by war and disease, the inexorable decline of sugar prices, and marked improve ment in the techniques of rum production resulted in significant qualitative improvement that added fillip to the economic value of rum. By the beginning of the twenty-first century, rum had recovered its popu larity and general appeal on global markets. Produced in more than 180 coun tries, rum was the third most popular distilled spirit consumed in the world.
103 BOOK REVIEW S With sales driven by four highly competitive multinational global market ers rum found itself only a few percentage points behind the second-placed brandy in global sales. An inspiring concluding chapter explains why. Rum bottles, S mith notes, overflow with nationalism, express a sense of plan tationalism and embrace symbols of masculinity. S ince the beginning of Caribbean rum industries, he adds, rum has provided a means of escape from the anxieties and anomie of plantation labor. T oday Caribbean rum bottle labels indulge the escapist fantasies of E uropean and North A merican consumers who feel unfulfilled in their regimented lives. T hrough the tropi cal scenes that dominate many rum labels, companies market their product as passages to fun, adventure, and paradisiacal solace (pp. 235-36). This is the best book to date on Caribbean rum. Broad in scope, exten sively researched, and persuasively argued, it makes a significant contribu tion both to the subject of rum as well as the history of the C aribbean. Wizards and Scientists: Explorations in Afro-Cuban Modernity and Tradition. STEPHAN PALMI. Durham NC: Duke University Press, 2002. xi + 399 pp. (Paper US $ 21.95)JU L IE SKUR S KIDepartments of A nthropology and History U niversity of Michigan A nn A rbor MI 48109, U S A
104 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) ranging in the scholarship it addresses, it confronts the teleological epistemol ogy on which the concept of Western modernity has been built and suggests its complicity with the enslavement of A froC ubans and the stigmatization of their cultural practices. It argues that the effort to expunge A froC uban cul tural practices from social life and reduce them to objects of study and display has been tied to the formation of the C uban nation. T he book not only cri tiques dominant discourses, however, but also seeks to illuminate the cultural forms through which A froC ubans have creatively represented, analyzed, and resisted the world that commodified them as instruments of production. The introductory chapter discusses the marginalization of the Caribbean as an object of study and its treatment as an anomaly by historical and anthro pological narratives premised on the civilizing advance of Western rational ity. Palmi argues that the Caribbeans significance can only be understood when it is seen as a modern creation formed by the processes that violently transformed the A tlantic region, from the advance of slave frontiers within Africa, to the establishment of proto-industrial plantations in the Americas and the rise of industrial capitalism in E urope. T he first chapter is a discussion of Jos A ntonio A ponte, a free A froC uban artisan executed in 1812 as an alleged leader of a seditious conspiracy and made an icon of C reole revolution by historians. Palmi insightfully analyzes descriptions of A pontes lost book of mysterious drawings and images and the explanation of them A ponte gave under interrogation, documents that have been neglected by historians. He suggests that the book presented a mystical vision of history and a creative analysis of power from the perspective of a lit erate A froC uban. He excoriates C uban and U S historians (e.g., Jos L uciano Franco and Philip Foner) in a tone verging on disdain for unjustifiably claiming that A ponte was a modern revolutionary, albeit with A frican-derived religious ties (e.g., pp. 88-95). Here Palmi cogently critiques determinist narratives that flatten history and ignore subaltern subjectivities. However he neglects to treat as contexualized objects of historical analysis the homogenizing narratives and reductionist authors he critiques, giving readers little basis for understanding how such distorting accounts were produced and accepted. In the second chapter Palmi argues that the Afro-Cuban religions Palo Monte and R egla de Ocha ( S antera) are interrelated moral systems that sym bolize for practitioners contrasting models of sociality based, respectively, on contract and reciprocity. He assails analysts who approach these reli gions as ethnically based retentions from the Kongo and Yorub of Africa, and asserts that they are hybrid New World creations which reinterpret and recontextualize African and European practices. His discussion focuses on Palo Monte and its use of the nganga a ceremonial object in which the cap tured spirit of a dead person resides and labors for the nganga s owner, and argues that this form of spiritual contract (or pact) developed as a repre sentation of, and in opposition to, slaverys violent extraction of labor from
105 BOOK REVIEW S commodified humans. In contrast to the efforts of Palo Monte practitioners to control occult powers, he states, R egla de Ocha practitioners seek through communication and reciprocal exchange with the orishas (sacred spirits) to gain their benevolent care. While Palmis argument concerning the emergence of these systems of belief contributes to the study of A froC uban religions, his analysis is limited by the schematic dichotomy he posits between the moral worlds of R egla de Ocha and Palo Monte and the limited ethnographic discussion he provides. His neglect of social analysis is exemplified by his use of statements from religious practitioners in Miami and Havana without either contextualizing community or discussing the religious transformations prompted by immi gration to the U nited S tates. If we shift our attention from the arena of discursive formations to exam ine how these religions are practiced and described in daily life in C uba today (often by people initiated in both and participating as well in spiritism), we may find that there are simultaneously elements of contract and reciprocity, of benevolent care and coercive control, present in both religious systems. T hese qualities are potentiated in different manners in the two religious sys tems, but both orishas and muertos have a range of behaviors and bonds with humans and these vary with the particular spiritual entity. Many practitioners in C uba, reflecting the growing integration between these religions, distin guish between them primarily in terms of their speed of operation, ceremonial refinement, and propensity to be used for selfish ends, but regard them as part of la religin an ascending continuum of A froC uban practices. The third chapter examines how, with the rise of scientific epistemolo gies and racialized taxonomies in the neocolonial republic, A froC uban reli gions were cast as a primitive threat to the modernizing nation. A s biological theories of race, social evolutionary theories of culture, and liberal theories of rights intersected, Afro-Cubans were legally included within the polity while their religious practices were criminalized and defined by scientists and anthropologists as witchcraft ( brujera ), an atavistic A frican survival. These fetishizing colonial knowledge practices, Palmi argues, continue to shape the nations civilizing project, as A froC uban religions (practiced also by Whites ) have until recently been classified as forms of irrationality. In the epilogue, Palmi claims that the commodification (equated with monetized exchange) of fetishized Cuban black bodies continues with the violent modernity imposed by market forces on a crumbling socialist regime, as metropolitan tourists seek the sexual services of black Cuban women. These observations, illustrated by personal anecdotes, draw the books argument into the present and highlight Palmis outrage over this ongoing history. His engaged attitude informs this valuable book, whose limitations serve to underline the importance of grasping subaltern forms of subjectivity and refining further our analytical categories.
106 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) The Quest for the Cuban Christ: A Historical Search MIGUEL A. DE LA TORRE. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2002. 202 pp. (Cloth US$ 55.00)FERNAN D O PIC Department of History U niversity of Puerto R ico 00931 R o Piedras, Puerto R ico
107 BOOK REVIEW S 76). La Virgen del Cobre and Ochn relieve somewhat all these centuries of oppression, but their connection to the C hristological quest depends on verbal legerdemain: S everal U S L atino theologians ... suggest that Marianism is not necessarily a veneration of the historical Mary of Nazareth, Jesus mother; rather, Marianism is a pneumatological issue (pp. 77-78). Other C hristological models are explored with less gusto. Of much more interest to the average reader may be the perusal of artistic representations of the Christ, which illustrate the breadth of Christologies in artists minds. A lthough the virtuosity of the artists represented goes from the sublime to the banal, the effort is not to select the works for their merits, but for their ability to represent different appropriations of the C hrist figure. E xilic C uban artists get the benefit of whichever doubt the author is willing to entertain. All in all the book reflects more on the university press that sponsored it than on the authors gallant effort to broach a difficult subject without appro priate critical tools. Dialogues in Cuban Archaeology L. ANT ONIO CURET, SHANNON LEE DAWDY & GABINO LA ROSA CORZO (eds.). T uscaloosa: University of A labama Press, 2005. xvi + 241 pp. (Paper US $ 26.95)DAVI D M PEN D ERGA STInstitute of A rchaeology U niversity C ollege L ondon L ondon W C 1H 0PY, U .K. Whenever straitened circumstances arise it is generally the less pressing costs that are eliminated first, and governments feeling the pinch usually include scholarly research near the top of the list for funding cuts. It is there fore remarkable that Cuba has managed, despite the stranglehold which the United States attempts to maintain on the country, to keep archaeological research not just alive but actually flourishing, albeit most certainly not in an economic resources sense. Even with such inane efforts as the barring of five invited C uban scholars from participating in the 2006 annual meeting of the Society for American Archaeology in San Juan, Puerto Rico, the United S tates has not succeeded in dampening the spirit that drives C uban archaeo logical work, as it motivates many other types of research in the country. Yet the achievements of Cubas archaeologists often go unrecognized because a lack of resources makes publication impossible. As a result, and
108 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) with language barriers as an additional problem in communication among various parts of the C aribbean world, C ubas place in the growing picture of Antillean archaeology has remained far less than sufficiently well known. Dialogues in Cuban Archaeology is therefore very welcome as an addition to the small body of reporting in E nglish of the progress that continues to be made in the country. Its ten chapters grew out of a symposium held by the Society for American Archaeology in 2002, which gave Cuban scholars the sort of opportunity for information exchange that was denied them four years later. We owe a considerable debt to the U niversity of A labama Press for sur mounting yet another barrier to C uban communication, a U S Department of the T reasury attempt to derail publication which was thwarted by a lawsuit. T he editors introductory chapter dispels many of the myths about archae ological work in Cuba, and at the same time reinforces the image of the strictures that surround it. Three essays under the headings Society and Archaeology: Interaction Between Cuban and American Archaeologists Under the Embargo, Cuban Contributions to Archaeology, and On Internationalism, Politics, and the Practice of A rchaeology make an impor tant contribution to the understanding of the context within which Cuba is forced to carry on, and of the larger world issues of which the C uban experi ence is such a forceful example. Closing with an optimistic assessment of opportunities for collaboration which recent events seem to belie, the chapter is an excellent summary of the islands dilemmas as well as its hopes, both in archaeology and in a wider context. In the second chapter R amn Dacal Moure and David R Watters provide a useful summary of Cubas archaeological research history, organized into three stages. T he presentation, which allows us to appreciate the richness of the C uban archaeological picture from early days to the present, points to the need for a complementary survey of the countrys long and very respectable archaeological publication record. T he remainder of the history section consists of a chapter on the history of C ubas archaeological organization by Mary Jane Berman, Jorge Febles, and Perry L Gnivecki; a summary of historical archaeology research by L ourdes S Domnguez; and an overview of rock art research by Marlene S L inville. Domnguezs presentation focuses on work in Old Havana, but would have been strengthened by mention of the significant work elsewhere in the coun try on S panishT aino interaction and bidirectional acculturation. T he succeeding section, S ubstantive A rchaeological R esearch includes five chapters which provide a clear picture of the broad array of interests and approaches that mark archaeology in todays Cuba. First, Jorge Ulloa Hung addresses in an intriguing manner the study of early ceramics in the Caribbean. Roberto Valcrcel Rojas and Csar A. Rodrguez Arce follow with a fine example of the extraction of social meaning from skeletal mate rial and associated artifacts in a presentation on the widely famed burial site
109 BOOK REVIEW S at C horro de Mata, a study which deserves a place as recommended reading in North American courses. The section continues with a preliminary but highly interesting study of mythical expressions in the ceramic art of agricul tural groups by Pedro Godo. It then shifts to L a R osa C orzos examination of C imarron (escaped slave) subsistence, which demonstrates how much infor mation on cultural practice as well as diet can be gleaned from faunal and floral remains, a study that fits neatly with recent work elsewhere in the trop ics, notably in the Maya area. The section ends with Theresa A. Singletons archaeological study of slavery at a Cuban coffee plantation, valuable both for its depiction of slave life in C uba and for its relationship to archaeological research on slavery in other parts of the C aribbean. The volume closes with a brief afterword by Samuel M. Wilson, who begins with a cogent survey of the economic and political problems beset ting archaeology in Cuba. He follows this with an examination of signs that despite the mindless obstructionism the country faces, C uban archaeologists will find ways to continue work and to communicate the results to their col leagues. If he is right, perhaps Antillean specialists and non-Caribbeanists alike will learn not only from the archaeological information recovered through Cuban research but also from the Cuban experience as an exam ple of what can be achieved in the face of adversity. Dialogues in Cuban Archaeology though in truth a series of monologues, gives rise to the hope that, U.S. government efforts to the contrary notwithstanding, there will in time be a fully free exchange of information between Cuba and the rest of the archaeological world. Blackface Cuba, 1840-1895 JILL LANE. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2005. xi + 274 pp. ( C loth US $ 55.00)AR T HUR KNIGH TA merican S tudies Program C ollege of William & Mary Williamsburg V A 23187-8795, U S A < firstname.lastname@example.org u >T his books impressively concise, descriptive title in fact reflects a provoca tive argument: blackface performance was vital to the rise of C uban national identity during the three anticolonial wars with S pain. R eaders familiar with the path-breaking work done in the 1990s on nineteenthand early twentieth-
110 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) century blackface in the United States most notably Eric Lotts Love and Theft (1993) and Michael R ogins Blackface/White Noise (1996) will hear echoes of those works broad arguments about the importance for nationalcultural self-fashioning of blackfaces deeply demeaning love (p. x). However, Jill L ane does not simply move L ott, R ogin, et al. off (the U S .) shore. R ather, aside from passing mention of U S minstrel companies visit ing Havana during the U S C ivil War (pp. 61, 71), she jettisons comparison with the United States nearly altogether, arguing that a U.S./Cuban com parison would lead to mistranslation of both performance practices and the transcriptions of ostensibly black speech (p. ix) that accompanied Cuban blackface. Her broader argument about the function of blackface in Cubas developing nineteenth-century culture almost reverses the arguments made about blackface in the U nited S tates, where it served ultimately to solidify a clearly delineated Black/White racial hierarchy (though it also, according to some scholars, expressed an ambiguous cross-racial love). In Cuba, Lane asserts, blackface performance was a central vehicle for the expression of mestizaje as a national ideology (p. 3), even as it worked to secure White privilege by masking the material exclusion and suffering of indigenous and mestizo citizens (p. 4). Lanes analysis centers on Cuban teatro bufo a popular style of comic musical review whose polyglot elements might be best conveyed by the 1868 self-description of the Bufos T orbellinos troupe: Cuban, dramatic, bufominstrel, lyric, choreographic, and mime company (p. 60). Her research in Cuban archives is nearly heroic in scope, and serves as the basis, in her first two chapters, of a fully fleshed-out, subtly detailed history of Cuban expressive culture in both theater and literature before the advent of bufo and during its rise. Her remaining chapters then pursue the permutations of bufo and critical and expressive responses to the form in the period 18801895. T hroughout, L ane works at the difficult task of reconstituting dramatic and musical performance practices recorded only (and only fragmentarily) in writing, keeping her acutely analytic eye trained on practices of racial impersonation, separation, and intermingling on stage and in social spaces. T hickening her descriptive analyses of theater, L ane also attends productive l y to the nuances of voice in C uban writing in a variety of genres of fiction and non-fiction. Despite its representations of all sorts of Cuban people and its vacillating claim that the mixture the aijaco or stew was what made Cuba and Cubans, bufo was a form that served primarily (White) criollos Consequently, Lane considers the practices and voices of other particu larly Black C ubans, holding these representations up against bufo represen tations to reveal the constraints Blacks worked under and the many methods they deployed to struggle for cultural and social space. In her own master ful analytic mixture, Lane makes the compelling case (bending Habermas and other theorists of the modern public sphere) that the emergent public
111 BOOK REVIEW S sphere of C uba was reliant less on the technology of print than on the tech nology of performance of theatre, dance, and music and of impersonation, embodiment, and spectatorship (p. 107). Lanes analytic model should be of great interest to scholars working across the Americas and the circumA tlantic world(s) in the antiand postcolonial eras. Blackface Cuba does have some flaws. Aside from the image on its cover, which is never referred to or analyzed in the book, it is wholly with out illustrations. The effect is to make Lanes descriptions of blackface and brownface (and presumably also Chinese face, something she does not dwell on) general and abstract, leaving readers who arent well-versed in Cuban cultural and art history wondering what, for example, costumbrismo lithography looked like and how it related (or not) to the various faces deployed on stage. A bit more detail on some of the international connec tions of bufo would also have been useful. Did these C uban performers ever perform elsewhere? Did C uban exiles encounter blackface elsewhere and to what effect? And Lane might profitably have addressed some of the other (potential) borders of identity in performance. Is there evidence of any form of actual, material whiteface performance in Cuba (as, say, part of carni val)? Did Blacks ever don blackface, as they sometimes did in the United S tates? Finally, though she begins with a brief anecdote of blackface bufo at T eatro Mart in Havana in the late 1950s, L ane never returns to this moment (or any other after 1895) to suggest, even if briefly, how blackface continued through C uban culture. Quibbles aside, and enriched by this excellent and already ambitious book, we can only hope that Lane will fill in some of these gaps, and open yet more exciting new territory, in similarly fine future work.REFERENCE SLOTT, ERIC 1993. Love and Theft: Blackface Minstrelsy and the American Working Class New York: Oxford U niversity Press. ROGIN, MICHAEL, 1996. Blackface, White Noise: Jewish Immigrants in the Hollywood Melting Pot. Berkeley: U niversity of C alifornia Press.
112 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) Cubas Military 1990-2005: Revolutionary Soldiers during CounterRevolutionary Times HAL KLEP AK New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005. xi + 340 pp. ( C loth US $ 65.00)AN T ONI KA P CIAC uba R esearch Forum Department of Hispanic & L atin A merican S tudies U niversity of Nottingham Nottingham NG7 2 R D, U .K.
113 BOOK REVIEW S making less convincing the usual claim about the F ARs repressive role in ensuring survival. However, in one area the F AR has been crucial to survival, making a con scious decision (along with the C uban leadership, one of whom R al C astro is of course the F AR s head) to spearhead economic reform to save the R evolution. Here this book serves as an invaluable source of reference, outlin ing the astonishingly wide array of economic activities in which the F AR has become involved, usually with great efficiency and certainly to great effect. A s for the frequent accusations of corruption arising from such an involve ment, Klepak is typically (and repeatedly) cautious and even-handed, taking the position that, while the opportunities are clearly there and while there has been evidence of privileged status and a few cases of outright corruption (notably General Ochoa in 1989, which he explains well), the F AR has gener ally kept its hands clean and its public legitimacy intact. Klepaks perspective on the crucial area of Cubas military relationships abroad also shows a sensitivity to nuance. He paints a picture of the C ubanU.S. military relationship with a surprisingly high degree of mutual respect and cooperation (what he usefully calls confidence-building measures), especially in matters pertaining to drugs, migration, and even Guantnamo. Anyone interested in the complexity of U.S.-Cuban relations, beyond the official hyperbole, could benefit from consulting these chapters. Because, as Klepak points out, U S indifference to C uba, and ignorance of it, are often a greater threat to security than any formal hostility or military strategy toward the island, the key to conflict resolution in this area lies in Washington and not Havana. The chapter on the F ARs external relations beyond the United S tates is also as good a discussion of C uban foreign policy as one could find comprehensive, detailed, revealing, and subtle. The volume contains two further jewels. Chapter 7, an essay on the domestic context of the contemporary Cuban political scene, provides an astute balance sheet of the strengths, weaknesses, dilemmas, and perspec tives of a complex phenomenon. And Chapter 8 explores the distinctions between the F AR and the typical Latin American military (which Klepak also knows well). The result of all this is a correction of long-standing misconceptions in the literature and in political circles. While Klepak rightly argues that the F AR is perhaps the only C uban entity capable of holding the ring (p. 240) in any transition, he also observes that it is the only one with the will and the legitimacy to do so. As such it is an entity that deserves to be better understood and taken seriously, along with Ral Castro, usually depicted as the hard-line and unimaginative ideologue but here presented, justifiably, as someone with considerable ability, subtlety, and importance. Klepak has thus provided a necessary antidote to preconceptions and an exceptionally worthwhile service to our understanding of C uba.
114 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) Capitalism, God, and a Good Cigar: Cuba Enters the Twenty-First Century LYDIA CHVEZ (ed.). Durham NC: Duke University Press, 2005. x + 253 pp. (Paper US $ 21.95)ANN MARIE ST OCKHispanic S tudies, Film S tudies C ollege of William & Mary Williamsburg V A 23187-8795, U S A < email@example.com u >Studies of present-day Cuba are rarely satisfying for readers seeking bal anced assessments that capture the complexity of a country undergoing rapid change. As John M. Kirk and Peter McKenna (1999:214) put it, T rying to understand C uba is not an easy undertaking ... C uba is far from a straightfor ward entity, a fact that complicates any attempt to decipher its often contra dictory reality. It is also a society that evokes strong visceral passions on both sides of the ideological divide. With Capitalism, God, and a Good Cigar, L ydia C hvez succeeds in gathering essays and a series of photos that depict the nation in transition. T he volume embraces and evokes the nuances essen tial to understanding this islands dynamic culture and recent history. Perhaps the study impresses most for what it does not do: it does not rely on limiting dichotomies that separate those unsympathetic to the R evolution from its sympathizers; it does not employ statistics to tell the story, thereby removing all human actors from the stage; and it does not erase contradic tions and dissonance. Instead, it shares the stories of real people who exhibit compassion, engage in conflict, and lead lives replete with contradictions. E very essay in the collection portrays individuals. While a few of the sub jects are well known like the writers A ntn A rrufat, R al R ivero C astaeda, and A lberto Guerra, featured in E zequiel Minayas piece most are known only to their families, neighbors, and co workers. Daniela Mohor examines the islands tobacco industry through the eyes of the workers R olando, Zoe, Pancho, and Marta in the countryside, contrasting their perspectives with those of workers in Havanas Partags factory and in the national cigar export com pany. T he daily routines and diverse perspectives of the four women in the city of Manzanillo, introduced by A lici R oca, remind us that constructs such as the C uban woman cannot begin to express the range of individual expe riences. T his study is sensitive to the vastly different ways in which C ubans experience their C uban-ness and participate in constructing their nation. Many of the contributors to this volume reflect on the position from which they approach their subject. In the closing essay, ngel Gonzlez travels to Cuba to meet his relatives and learn about his great-great grandfather who,
115 BOOK REVIEW S from the time of his childhood in Venezuela, has loomed larger than life. In sharing his personal journey, he acknowledges that the tellers connection to the story invariably influences the way it is told. Contributors to the volume bring a variety of perspectives and experi ences. They carry passports from Brazil, Chile, France, Germany, Mexico, the United States, and Venezuela, and wield tools from the professions of journalism, photography, film, and education. Megan Lardner observes the immigration phenomenon through the experiences of S panish entrepreneurs who, like their ancestors, establish new lives on the island but barely rub shoulders with C ubans in doing so. Olga R R odrguez introduces readers to several T rue Believers from S pain, the U nited S tates, and E l S alvador who settled in Cuba, and whose reflections on life in revolutionary Cuba range from enthusiastic to disenchanted. John Cot covers Cubans increasing connectedness in cyberspace. His discussions with informticos (computer geeks) both state workers and independent entrepreneurs and his com parison of C ubas situation with that of some other L atin A merican countries suggest that the scarcity of phone lines and computers may be the decisive factor in impeding some Cubans from logging on. The collective vision displayed by the essayists in Capitalism grounded as they are in multiple geopolitical and disciplinary arenas, moves readers beyond such binaries as Havana-Miami, inside-outside, them-us. Instead, the volume propels readers into what Henry L ouis Gates, Jr. has called the multi-directional flows that characterize the contemporary world. More than seventy black-and-white images round out Capitalism The photographs of Mimi C hakarova resist the all-too-prevalent tendency toward nostalgia. She focuses, for example, not only on the 1940s and 50s cars that so many tourists and photographers find appealing, but also on forms of transportation used by locals a bicycle, a motorcycle, a bicycle taxi, and a Russian Lada. Even the backgrounds of these photos attest to Cubas com plexity. Framed within Chakarovas viewfinder are iconic images of Ch Guevara, General C astillo A gramonte, Fidel C astro, C amilo C ienfuegos, and Jos Mart as well as those of Alicia Alonso and Jesus Christ. Although a series of photos often tells more about the photographers perspective and biases than about the places and faces being represented, the images in this volume serve to augment the understanding of the written texts. Readers of Capitalism, God, and a Good Cigar come away with a sense of this island as complex and ever-changing, and an appreciation for the process through which (as the subtitle indicates) C uba enters the twenty-first century. Highly recommended for anyone who has spent time in Cuba, and essential for anyone who has not particularly readers who have been rely ing on U S media accounts to shape their impressions of life on the island.
116 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) REFERENCEKIRK, JOHN M & PE T ER MCKENNA, 1999. T rying to A ddress the C uban Paradox. Latin American Research Review 34:214-26. Prosperos Isles: The Presence of the Caribbean in the American Imaginary DIANE ACCARIAZAVA L A & RO D O L FO PO P E L NIK (eds.). Oxford: Macmillan C aribbean, 2004. xvii + 299 pp. (Paper 11.95)SEAN X GOU D IEE nglish Department Vanderbilt U niversity Nashville T N 37235, U S A < firstname.lastname@example.org u >T o evoke Shakespeares The Tempest as a framing device for purposes of conducting postcolonial critique is to run the risk of exploiting what is by now a well-worn strategy to the point of hyperstylization. The contributors of this important volume of essays, however, avoid such a trap by deploying the Prospero/Caliban trope with a clever difference. Intent on reorienting the spatial understanding of literary and cultural production in the A mericas according to a south-north axis, the editors evoke Shakespeares play not, as important Caribbean-authored works before them have, to unsettle the legacy of European colonialism in the Caribbean, but rather to apprehend the full extent of the effect of U.S. imperialism in the region on literary and cultural production, particularly in the United States: Once a Caliban to a British Prospero, in the process of decolonisation the U nited S tates renegoti ates its role and becomes an American Prospero to the Caribbean Caliban (p. 3). In turn, the contributors to Prosperos Isles persuasively challenge the paralyzing notion that the dominated group is merely a recipient, never a producing, communicating contributor (p. 4) to the cross-cultural dynamic adhering to the Prospero/ C aliban-esque power play between a U S center and a C aribbean periphery. This collection might well have been titled Prosperos Repeating Isles given how many of its chapters are expressly indebted to Antonio BentezRojos influential study, The Repeating Island: The Caribbean and the Postmodern Perspective (1992) perhaps too uncritically, to the point that contributors arguments often sound a suspiciously celebratory tone
117 BOOK REVIEW S and a numbing sameness of sensibility. Not coincidentally, the first chap ter is authored by Bentez-Rojo himself (and translated by Andrew Hurley). Entitled Reflections after Seeing Guys and Dolls , the chapter charts an intricate set of linkages between U.S. and Caribbean musical styles and forms. Writes BentezR ojo, T he truth is, for many years C uban music and A merican music had been carrying on a dialogue. T his conversational inter change was made possible by the fact that both contained elements from two ancestral strains E uropean music on the one hand and A frican music on the other. T hus he proposes understanding such music as constituent parts of a larger A froA tlantic musical phenomenon (p. 22). In a similar vein, contributors across the collections five sections Music, A rchitecture, L iterature, C inema, and T elevision limn a cultural cartography of C aribbean influences on the A merican imaginary, defined alternately by contributors as U.S. American and in more inclusively hemispheric terms. They do so with startling insight. In a richly suggestive chapter centered on the architecture of Puerto Ricos Central Aguirre Sugar Company, owned and operated by U S businessmen by the late 1890s, E nrique Vivoni-Farage shows how Puerto Ricos architecture came to be irrevocably influenced by CASCs building structures and designs. Yet influence, Vivoni-Farage speculates, most likely tends in multiple directions. If North American cor porations ushered into the island new architectural styles, such colonizing designs were likely indebted to West Indian plantation styles injected into the New E ngland architectural scene by enterprising merchants plying the West Indian trades in the late eighteenth century, only to be re-introduced into the islands by their economic and cultural inheritors a century later in what we might term a multidirectional creolization of creoles North and S outh, main land and island, Yankee and West Indian. Such keen observations recur across the collections various chapters. In Section 3, literary scholars reveal how important U.S. and Caribbean conversational interchanges shape the character of authors and their texts, including European American writers gone Caribbean such as Louisa May Alcott and Ernest Hemingway, as well as writers constituting the C aribbean diaspora in the U nited S tates, such as Harlem R enaissance figures Eric Walrond and Claude McKay. Accordingly, Maritza Stanchich argues that writers of such diverse origins as William Faulkner (Mississippi) and Wilson Harris (Guyana) share a common circum-Caribbean imagination that extends from the Plantation and defies efforts to characterize such authors according to strict ethnic, racial, or national boundaries. Likewise, Felipe S mith understands Jamaican-born writer C laude McKays immigrant imagination to be inflected by uniquely Caribbean rhythms and cadences, a diasporic sensitivity capable of producing works marked by what S mith eloquently terms improvisational alternative modernities. T he performance of these alternative modernities is the sixth act of the Tempest, the diaspora
118 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) subjects ascendance to spiritual mastery through cultural colonisation of the metropole (p. 165). T he collection is not without its limitations. Its ambitious historical scope means that many epochs in U S .C aribbean relations can only be thinly treat e d (the early U S national period, much of the nineteenth century, and the last half of the twentieth century). L ikewise, given that the L iterature section com prises the vast majority of the chapters, the collection evinces a pronounced hierarchy of generic representation. In addition, only infrequently is the selec tion of writers or artists for treatment surprising. Finally, more than a few con tributors, in their understandable impulse to dismantle received, binary ways of understanding U S and C aribbean cultural exchanges, ironically risk erecting new essentialisms: in their hands the U nited S tates becomes a monolithic geo graphic, social, and cultural entity always in need of a mystical or magical C aribbean influence, a certain kind of way of being in the world (BentezR ojo 1992:11). S uch shortcomings might more generously be conceived of as points of departure for future scholarship seeking to build on this collections laudable impulse to demarcate the crucial ways in which the C aribbean C aliban has inflected the U S Prosperos cultural imaginary. REFERENCEBENTEZ-ROJO, ANT ONIO, 1992. The Repeating Island: The Caribbean and the Postmodern Perspective Durham N C : Duke U niversity Press. The Masters and the Slaves: Plantation Relations and Mestizaje in American Imaginaries. AL EXAN D RA IS FAHANIHAMMON D (ed.). New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005. x + 161 pp. (Paper US $ 22.95)DANIE LL E D. SMI T H Department of French U niversity of Virginia C harlottesville V A 22904-4770, U S A
119 BOOK REVIEW S notably by recuperating Brazil in the analysis of postslavery societies in the greater Caribbean region. Informed by recent cultural theory, this transco lonial remapping allows for a more complex reading of L atin A merican and Caribbean discourses of hybridity and mestizaje which are often perceived as paradigms of cultural progress and social and political inclusiveness in the A merican academy. A ll of its essays attempt to dispel the principal myths of L atin A merican and C aribbean assimiliationism, while also casting doubt on the stability of the Black/White racial dialectic in the U nited S tates. The book is the culmination of the American Comparative Literature Association Conference held in San Juan, Puerto Rico in April 2002. The anthology brings together the research of scholars in the fields of ethnic stud ies and comparative literature, as well as Caribbean, American, and Latin American studies, and focuses primarily on non-fiction texts. Alexandra Isfahani-Hammonds excellent introduction draws parallels between the diverse topics and theoretical angles of the contributors, and advocates a more interdisciplinary approach to Atlantic Studies. T aking her cue from Antonio Bentez-Rojo (1996), she urges scholars to consider the legacy of slavery and the nationalist discourses following abolition from a post-plan tation rather than a ... shared language perspective (p. 4). As the title suggests, this collection will appeal most to those interested in Brazilian cultural theory. Indeed, four of the nine essays in the anthol ogy concentrate on Brazil. T hose by C sar Braga-Pinto, A lexandra IsfahaniHammond, and Jossiana Arroyo address the work of Brazils renowned sociologist Gilberto Freyre, for whom the northeastern sugar plantation was the sacred site of Brazils foundational myth of a truly miscegenated and racially harmonious society. Braga-Pinto and Isfahani-Hammond demon strate how Freyre positioned himself as the privileged narrator/informant of A fro-Brazilian traditions. T hus, as Isfahani-Hammond illustrates in Writing Brazilian Culture, miscegenation la Freyre is first and foremost a sym bolic not a genetic transformation that involves only the Luso-Brazilian man. In The Sugar Daddy: Gilberto Freyre and the White Mans Love for Blacks, Braga-Pinto shows how this symbolic miscegenation is informed by transitory sexual experiences both homosexual and heterosexual between White men and Blacks. Since they are relegated to the private sphere, these interracial exchanges deny Afro-Brazilians and homosexuals agency in the public sphere. The White ethnographers ability to speak for the subaltern underscores the virility of the highly adaptable Portuguese man, who has the knowledge and the power to travel back and forth between center and periphery. In From the T ropics: C ultural S ubjectivity and Politics in Gilberto Freyre, Jossiana A rroyo discusses the sociologists later theories of tropicalismo placing them in the broader geopolitical context of the cold war. She argues that tropicalismo emerges in reaction to U.S. interventions in Latin America and the Caribbean, allowing Freyre to imagine Brazil as
120 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) an alternate sphere of influence in the region. Luisa Moreiras essay, The Rhythm of Macumba: Lvio Abramos Engagement with Afro-Brazilian C ulture, examines the intersection of politics and race from the perspective of an unusual collaboration between a socialist artist and a poet aligned with the dictatorship of Getlio Vargas. While this anthology covers a lot of ground in terms of the variety of genres and societies represented, it is disappointing that only half the articles bridge more than one cultural perspective at a time. T his speaks in part to the territorial compartmentalization of the academy, duly noted by IsfahaniHammond in the introduction. Another indication of the need for greater communication across disciplines is the mention of Mayotte Capcia in two of the essays. It is surprising that scholars outside Francophone studies are not aware of the elaborate literary hoax surrounding the publication of Je suis martiniquaise (see Makward 1999 and A rnold 2002, 2003a, 2003b). Essays that approach topics from a comparative angle include those by Ramn Grosfoguel, Valery Kaussen, and Nalini Natarajan. Grosfoguels Hybridity and Mestizaje : S yncretism or S ubversive C omplicity? S ubalternity from the Perspective of the Coloniality of Power is an incisive critique of postmodern readings of hybridity as a syncretic process. He maintains that the New World is not made up of independent nations, but rather of neocolonies, in which the same structures of inequality (epistemological, political, economic, racial, and sexual) that were instituted under colonial rule have been replicated. Kaussens Race, Nation, and the Symbolics of Servitude in Haitian noirisme examines the internalization and re-appro priation of colonial racial constructions in the nationalist literature of Haiti during the A merican occupation, drawing useful connections to Martiniquan ngritude Subramanian also focuses on Haiti, in Blood, Memory, and Nation: Massacre and Mourning in E dwidge Danticats Farming of Bones , positing the imagined community of the dead as a contestatory force that uses memory as its weapon. In Helena Holgersson-Shorters Authoritys Shadowy Double: Thomas Jefferson and the Architecture of Illegitimacy and Nalini Natarajans Fanon as Metrocolonial Flaneur in the Caribbean Post-Plantation/Algerian Colonial City, architecture serves as a metaphor for the colonial ethnoclass structures in Virginia and Martinique. While Holgersson-Shorter questions the stability of the Black/White binary oppo sition underlying the U.S. plantation system, Nalini Natarajan analyzes the complex way in which Fanons dual identity as a Martiniquan and a trans planted intellectuel engag in A lgeria influences his theorizations of postco lonial Martinique and colonial A lgeria. The Masters and the Slaves is a welcome contribution to A tlantic S tudies, and is sure to inspire further interdisciplinary collaboration in the field.
121 BOOK REVIEW S REFERENCE SARNOLD, A. JAMES, 2002. Frantz Fanon, Lafcadio Hearn et la supercherie de Mayotte C apcia. Revue de Littrature Compare 76:148-66. , 2003a. Institution littraire, discours identitaire, supercherie littraire. Cahiers de lAssociation Internationale des tudes Franaises 55:23-38. , 2003b. Mayotte Capcia: De la parabole biblique Je suis martiniquaise. Revue de Littrature Compare 77:35-48. BEN T EZRO J O, AN T ONIO 1996. La isla que se repite: El Caribe y la perspectiva posmo derna Hanover NH: E diciones del Norte. MAKWARD, CHRISTIANE P. 1999. Mayotte Capcia ou lalination selon Fanon Paris: Karthala. Brbaros: Spaniards and Their Savages in the Age of Enlightenment DAVI D J. WEBER. New Haven CT : Yale U niversity Press, 2005. xx + 467 pp. ( C loth US $ 35.00)NEI L L. WHI T EHEA DDepartment of A nthropology U niversity of Wisconsin-Madison Madison WI 53705, U S A
122 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) logical, political, and economic kind. As with the essays in the recent third volume of the Cambridge History of Native American Peoples (Solomon & S chwartz 1999), the myriad forms of resistance, persistence, and evanescence in native ways of life is strikingly outlined. T hus Weber provides a clear and engaging overview of the ways in which Spanish political, evangelical, and economic policies created for native peoples a common landscape of engage ment with the colonial powers. By extension, the ways in which nonS panish colonial rivals consistently used the A mericas as a forum for the prosecution of European wars and conflicts, as well as a context for emerging national destinies, also acted to stimulate similar kinds of social change throughout the A mericas which are painstakingly documented in this work. The work is comprehensive, but risks being compendious, and therefore does not always give appropriate emphasis to the great variety of infor mation that is presented, or evaluate its local meanings in quite the right way. Miskitos, Guajiros, and Caribs are all excellent examples of certain kinds of historical and sociological processes that, given the uniformity of Spanish policies, created analogous situations and indigenous responses to them. However, at the same time attention to this tends to ignore the criti cal ways in which those seemingly similar phenomena were embedded in local processes. T his is not a standard argument, perhaps more usually heard from historians, for some form of blinkered particularism, but rather a plea to recognize that a comparative evaluation of local processes, instead of a comparison of the formal similarity of social and cultural traits that emerged from such processes, is what is needed. The work of historians and anthro pologists over the last two decades has revealed the promise for all kinds of highly detailed local histories and also opened up possibilities for other kinds of historiographical analysis. For example, in a book such as this which is explicitly directed toward the S paniards and their S avages, the work of imagination and representation is little discussed. A lthough the frameworks of some of the key E nlightenment authors, particularly Alejandro Malapasina, are conscientiously outlined, certain critical matters remain unaddressed or are rather quickly passed over. The idea of cannibalism was critical to not only Spanish thinking, but also to the Portuguese, in the shaping of imaginative and material relationships with the native population. From the moment of Columbuss first voyage, even until today, the association of American Indians, especially in South A merica, and the practice of anthropophagy which became cannibalism only through the transliteration of native ethnonyms such as C alina or C alibi has been indelible and of great historical significance. This was because of the way in which both formal legal codes and strategies of conquest and slavery by the S panish were structured around the notion of cannibalism as a justification for such actions, which made the discourse around cannibalism, for both the S panish and their savages, a highly charged political arena. A lso
123 BOOK REVIEW S apparently overlooked in this book is the question of how blackness and its political partner marronage may have played in to native resistance and Spanish polices for reform. Indeed the notion of the indigenous is never itself questioned despite the importance in some regions, as Weber acknowl edges, of the presence of Dutch, French, and English plantations and slaves to the unfolding histories of the eighteenth century. T his valuable resource perhaps most readily compares to John Hemmings compendious works on Brazil, Red Gold (1978) and Amazon Frontier (1987). But as in those books, the effort to extract intelligible accounts of historical pro cess common across such vast regions of time and space has meant bypassing a different and even more interesting project delineating the cultural context of E nlightenment thought and its connection to the picturing of the brbaros .REFERENCE SHEMMING, JOHN, 1978. Red Gold: The Conquest of the Brazilian Indians, 1500-1760. C ambridge M A : Harvard U niversity Press. , 1987. Amazon Frontier: The Defeat of the Brazilian Indians C ambridge M A : Harvard U niversity Press. SA L OMON, FRANK & ST UAR T SCHWAR T Z ( eds. ), 1999. The Cambridge History of Native American Peoples Vol. III C ambridge: C ambridge U niversity Press. Englishmen Transplanted: The English Colonization of Barbados, 16271660. LARRY GRAGG. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003. xiii + 217 ( C loth US $ 74.00)RICHAR D S. DUNNA merican Philosophical S ociety Philadelphia P A 19106, U S A
124 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) Back in 1961-1962 when I began to work on Sugar and Slaves I spent a year in London trying to discover the real seventeenth-century history of Barbados, the Leeward Islands, and Jamaica from the manuscripts in the Public R ecord Office and the books and manuscripts in the British Museum. At that time very little had yet been written on the beginnings of English sugar cultivation in the Caribbean, or about the initial importation of slave laborers from Africa to the English islands. The sparse secondary literature was of small help to me because the focus was almost entirely on English warfare with the Spanish and French or on petty political and constitutional developments within the E nglish island colonies. A nd it was not easy to pen etrate the files of Caribbean correspondence in the Colonial Office records. The formulaic dispatches to and from Barbados revealed very little about social or economic developments on this island. When I visited Barbados later in the 1960s, the tourist guidebooks assured me that I was in little E ngland, but the place didnt seem very E nglish to me, and I wondered why I was focusing on the doings of seventeenth-century White people when the population today is over 90 percent Afro-Caribbean. Aroused by the Black freedom movement of the 1960s in the United States, I wanted to find out how slavery got started in Barbados before it spread to North America, and what early slave life was like in the West Indies. S timulated by the practitio ners of what was then the new social history in colonial North America, I wanted to find out how the early White colonists responded to the novelty and dangers of life in the tropics. So I searched for social records about the seventeenth-century Caribbean colonies with primary focus on Barbados and when I pieced these records together I concluded that life in early Barbados was extremely different from seventeenth-century England and even more different from early Massachusetts. Three features of Barbados society seemed particularly distinctive: amazingly quick riches for the most aggressive and entrepreneurial Barbadian Whites, quick death for most Whites and Blacks alike, and brutal White exploitation of Black labor. This for me added up to a recipe for social disaster. L arry Gragg tells a much more upbeat story in Englishmen Transplanted His book is thoroughly researched, well-designed, and clearly argued, and he describes more comprehensively than any previous historian the tremendous changes that took place in Barbados within a very short time span between 1627 and 1660. His focus throughout is on the remarkable success of the E nglish settlers who started the sugar revolution in the C aribbean and quickly built their small colony into the most important E nglish commercial center in the New World. He also argues, as his title suggests, that the early colonists in Barbados did everything they possibly could to replicate on their tropical island the society that they came from in E ngland. I have no quarrel with Graggs account of the economic achievement of the first-generation Barbados sugar planters in the 1640s and 1650s a
125 BOOK REVIEW S theme strongly emphasized in Sugar and Slaves and by all succeeding com mentators. He tells this story well, and demonstrates effectively that a rela tively small number of English merchants and early settlers who invested substantial wealth in the island were both the chief progenitors and the chief beneficiaries of the sugar revolution. Rejecting the notion that the Dutch played a vital role during the 1640s and 1650s, he tracks the activities of sev eral dozen leading Englishmen who invested in Barbados sugar production and who also managed the early importation of slave laborers from Africa. Gragg also discusses the labor issue at length. He describes how thousands of impecunious E nglishmen migrated voluntarily to Barbados as servants, even though they were treated very harshly and mostly ended up in poverty, and argues that the planters quickly switched from English servants to African slaves in the 1640s and 1650s for economic rather than racial reasons. Gragg emphasizes the extraordinarily brutal treatment meted out to the servants and especially to the slaves, and then normalizes this treatment on the grounds that the E nglish colonists saw their A frican workers as belonging to a subhu man species perfectly tailored for enslavement. In Graggs Barbados, Englishmen are the only inhabitants who matter. He spends many pages detailing the colonists efforts to transplant English governmental institutions: a representative A ssembly, an appointed C ouncil, a colony-wide code of laws, and a web of local parishes with Anglican churches offering religious services, courts, and justices to keep the peace, and troops of militia to maintain order. Of course the English colonists in North A merica also transplanted E nglish governmental institutions. T he real issue is how the colonists used or abused these institutions. Gragg celebrates the rapid development of a Barbadian social hierarchy in which the elite sugar planters completely dominated all aspects of society in emulation of the aristocracy at home. But I would argue that they went well beyond the aristocracy at home in exploiting the poor Whites and especially the A frican slaves to their own narrow advantage. Reading Englishmen Transplanted makes me realize how I indulged in moralistic overkill when I excoriated the Barbados planters in Sugar and Slaves But I stick to my conclusion (Dunn p. 335) that the early Barbadians have a lot to answer for. T heir social formula, a small cadre of white planters driving an army of black slaves, was totally without precedent in English experience. Once established, it shaped three centuries of C aribbean life. REFERENCEDUNN, RICHAR D S ., 1972. Sugar and Slaves: The Rise of the Planter Class in the English West Indies, 1624-1713 C hapel Hill: U niversity of North C arolina Press.
126 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) Rebeccas Revival: Creating Black Christianity in the Atlantic World JON F SEN S BACH. C ambridge M A : Harvard U niversity Press, 2005. 302 pp. ( C loth US $ 22.95)AARON SP ENCER FOG L EMAN Department of History Northern Illinois U niversity DeKalb I L 60115, U S A
127 BOOK REVIEW S were women. T he missionaries overcame violent resistance from other slaves and especially White inhabitants as they worked. A crucial turning point came in 1739, when the Moravians bought a plantation with slaves to provide a spiritual refuge for their further missionary efforts. T his meant that they could continue their mission, attracting slaves from throughout the island who could worship without fear of attack, at least while on Moravian property. But it also meant that the Moravians had bought into the slave system. In fact, at the same time they began preaching obedience to the slaves and the impor tance of preserving social order. T herein lies the crux of the problem in terms of interpreting the experience of early mass conversion by A frican slaves to Protestant evangelical religion: Was it a radical act on the part of the slaves, or did conversion help to undermine slave resistance and support slavery? T his is a difficult question, more complex than many realize, but S ensbach favors the view that there was a radical, liberating element to slave conver sion, especially for women. He argues that conversion and preaching helped R ebecca to escape the traps of race and gender that snared so many women. Evangelical religion was the vehicle that carried her across geographic and cultural borders, and her skills as a leader and teacher provided an entre to another life (p. 200). Sensbach stresses that conversion and preaching allowed unknown people to claim spiritual authority for themselves (p. 238). T hey helped to spread C hrists liberating grace to slaves (p. 239), and C hristianity provided slaves with an ideology of resistance. Was conversion really radical? Yes, as long as it brought the promise of emancipation, equality, and literacy, and as long as the planters violently resisted it, all of which happened on S t. T homas before 1739. It is more dif ficult to argue that conversion was radical after the White missionaries began supporting the slave system. Here it is important to focus on R ebecca and the role of Black/Mulatto agency. A fter the White missionaries began to support the slave order, it was primarily slave and ex-slave preachers like Rebecca who led the conversion efforts, and they may not have been preaching a con servative message. If they continued to promote elements of the earlier radi cal message, those efforts would explain why slaves on S t. T homas continued to convert and why the planters continued to resist this movement, in spite of White Moravian pleas that they were supporting the slave order. After 1739 the slaves may have been buying something that the White missionaries were not selling. E ventually Whites became satisfied that C hristianity was safe, and it is less clear that conversion or the Christian experience was radical. S ome of R ebeccas own writings later in her life that seemed to promote the social order suggest that the movement was becoming less radical over time, but it is still uncertain what the majority of slaves believed about these issues in the eighteenth century. While we are not yet in a position to answer the question of radical ism, the Moravians careful documentation of these early experiences and
128 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) S ensbachs astute analysis and presentation are bringing us closer. His view of S t. T homas as an A tlantic Protestant model needs to be substantiated, but historians have undervalued the role of Moravians and slaves on S t. T homas, and it is also clear that the Moravians were the first Protestants to take a mis sion to A frican slaves seriously. S t. T homas very likely was a model for the rest of the Protestant C aribbean, but we cannot yet say whether this was the case for British North A merica. Nevertheless, S ensbachs attempt to connect these events and influences to the later abolition movement (pp. 243 ff.) is not farfetched, as Denmark was the first to ban the A tlantic slave trade in 1802. Laboring Women: Reproduction and Gender in New World Slavery. JENNIFER L. MORGAN. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004. xvi + 279 pp. ( C loth US $ 55.00)VERENE A SHE P HER DDepartment of History and A rchaeology U niversity of the West Indies Mona, Kingston 7, Jamaica
129 BOOK REVIEW S C onscious of the varying contexts within which the enslaved and enslav ers led their lives, Morgan uses comparative methodology to draw atten tion to the continued need to understand the divergences and complexities of slavery in disparate geographical contexts, even while identifying unifying ideologies and mentalities that determined a common set of experiences on the part of the enslaved. More specifically, she poses relevant questions relat ing to womens bodies under enslavement. Does the significance of repro ductive potential ... transcend the significance of New World commodities and territories? (p. 2). And was the ability to reproduce the labor force the most important factor unifying womens experiences across time and space, regardless of the type of commodity produced or service rendered, or indeed the place where they served their enslavement? Morgan insists that repro duction was central, not tangential to the slavery project and confined to the so-called pro-natalist nineteenth century, a point that is not stressed enough by those who crunch comparative demographic data on the Caribbean and the U nited S tates. These questions are problematized over six chapters. The themes, texts, and visual representations contained in Chapter 1 are familiar and deal with the process of constructing Black women as the colonial other in order to exploit them. Morgan rehearses the interplay between European writers notions of African womens sexual identities and the development of racist ideology, reinforcing the ideas that the willingness to exploit African wom ens labor became intimately tied to ideas about reproduction. The demo graphic profile in the trade in A fricans to the A mericas is revisited in C hapter 2, with hardly any new conclusions. Morgan addresses the rationale for the gender composition of the trade, debating, like other scholars, planter prefer ence, age, ethnicity, skill sets, and prices. She stresses that women and chil dren together outnumbered adult men in the slave trade, but is still forced to conclude that overall the trade was male dominated. Chapter 3 explores enslavers appropriation of enslaved womens repro ductive lives and argues that speculation about womens childbearing capac ity was a natural outgrowth of slave ownership. As Morgan puts it (using probate inventories and wills to demonstrate this effectively), slaveowners from Jamaica to Johns Island invested their hopes in the reproductive capaci ties of their human property (p. 87). S uch appropriation terrorized womens bodies and sense of self. The books discussion of Black womens African background, which is insufficiently diverse, almost essentializes African womens occupational roles. The importance of this chapter is its explora tion of the contradictions between enslavers ideological views of A frica and African women (and their attempts to legislate the perceived differences), and their actual relations with them. Chapter 4 discusses the ways in which enslaved women experienced the claims upon their wombs. Morgan shows that even as enslavers built
130 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) their lives around womens reproductive capacity, some women, where they could, refused to collaborate. She provides firm evidence of abortifacients still a hazy matter in American history. She revisits the theory of creoliza tion, a necessary result of population growth through natural means/interracial sex, and its meaning for parenthood (a status both acknowledged and dismissed), cultural change, and African ethnic presence. Chapter 5 covers familiar themes in African-American womens history, including womens productive roles and their ubiquitous presence in the field with few avenues of escape, compared to mens opportunities of upward mobility. Chapter 6 questions enslaved womens power within the slave system (including reproductive power) and examines their multidimensional reac tions to enslavement. Morgan reinforces the presence of reproductive forms of resistance and rehearses the old debate over resistance and accommoda tion, which, despite her suggestion, few scholars now view as binary oppo sites. Those familiar with the historiography of resistance and the debates over definition could find this chapter annoying. But on the other hand, no study of the slave system can be complete without including agency. In the end, this is an attempt to recast the history of racial ideology by cen tering gender and exploring how the categories of race and gender informed each other. T he book is important in showing that there is still a need to cen ter womens reproductive identities and the implications of womens repro ductive capacity for the meaning of enslavement. T alk about integrating such themes in the general history of the A mericas remains just that talk. Race and Labor in the Hispanic Caribbean: The West Indian Immigrant Worker Experience in Nineteenth-Century Puerto Rico, 1800-1850 JORGE LUIS CHINEA. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2005. xv + 272. ( C loth US $ 59.95)JUAN JO S BA LD RICHDepartment of S ociology and A nthropology U niversity of Puerto R ico R o Piedras, Puerto R ico 00931-3345
131 BOOK REVIEW S researched piece of history and a literary essay. By documenting the trials and tribulations of West Indian foreigners in their migration to the sugarproducing coastal plain, Chinea meticulously qualifies the now dominant vision of Jos L uis Gonzlez, second story, which refers to the nineteenthcentury Whitening of the Puerto Rican population. Always respectful of the classic, he stops short of a direct engagement by characterizing his own book as a modest study of C aribbean migration to Puerto R ico during the first half of the nineteenth century. Yet El pas seems to provide the orientation to the work reviewed. Chinea conscientiously documents in thirty pages of endnotes the breadth and scope of the migration of foreigners from the Antilles to Puerto R ico. He painstakingly gives life to the majority of them as people of color, whether slave or free (p. 6). T he methodology to document his research proves to be ingenious. Holding the presumption that official documents only par tially captured or revealed the actual participation (p. 8, see also pp. 7, 9) of nonwhite immigrants, he looks for them in the documents silences. His search for the silences puts E.P. Thompsons interrogation of evidence by minds trained in a discipline of attentive disbelief to effective use. This research has relied on embarkation licenses, population censuses, church registers, and notarial records, but in order to document the silences he has examined, among other sources, naval, military, public safety, con sular, immigration, passport, and population files (p. 14). Chinea consulted archives in San Juan, Seville, and Madrid, as well as at Johns Hopkins, the University of Florida, and the Library of Congress. The principal source for his database derives from a careful, time-consuming examination of an impressive nineteen-reel file, Extranjeros en Puerto Rico, ca. 1800-1845 housed in the National A rchives in Washington (p. 68). A dditionally he relies on the slavery series at the Archivo General in San Juan to document slave purchases in the C aribbean (pp. 176-77). Race and Labor effectively reconstructs a bustling Puerto Rico deeply intertwined with the Antilles by the multiethnic and multicultural charac ter of its littoral. The coasts of the island provided refuge and safe havens to a heterogeneous mixture of migr plantation owners, artisans, runaway slaves, and female-led families. T he bulk of C hineas work relies on the files of 1,421 heads of household of West Indian provenance who migrated to Puerto R ico along with 720 relatives and dependents (p. 72). T hey amounted to some 26.3 percent of all officially documented foreign migrants. Their real number is considerably higher, as he shows, on account of three other groups. First, there were free people or runaway slaves, who were undocu mented. Second, upon the British abolition of the slave trade many plant ers turned to the Lesser Antilles as a source of coerced labor (p. 107). And finally, some of the E uropeans arrived in Puerto R ico after a sojourn in other A ntilles (pp. 73, 91).
132 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) About 40 percent of the 1,421 officially documented foreign heads of household migrating to Puerto Rico between 1800 and 1850 did so from French colonies, principally from S aint Domingue due to the revolution (pp. 75-76). The next highest number were those from the Dutch and Danish islands. Demographically speaking, the West Indian migrants were typically single, young, free, Colored men (and a small number of women) who sought to improve their station in life by seeking better jobs or access to land (p. 81). Chinea ably documents how, upon arrival, they faced the local version of racism conceptualized as a caste system that they had already experienced as a constraint to social mobility and work opportunities. Most of them worked at the lower end of the scale of occupations as tradesmen, rank-and-file soldiers, curanderos/as street musicians, small-scale bakers, and seafarers (p. 101). Unfortunately, Race and Labor does not provide a nuanced view of the social and economic conditions of the island during the 1750-1800 period that occupies much of the book. Chinea homogenizes these conditions into a pre-plantation era (pp. 14, 34-35, 28-65) characterized by subsistence farming and cattle ranching (p. 19) or hatos and estancias (p. 114). This characterization misses a lively commercial agriculture centered around tobacco smuggling for the Dutch and a slaveholding plantation sector that he, nevertheless, is aware of in his description of a plantation belt stretching from T oa Baja to C anvanas in the northern littoral (p. 37). T o depict the resistance to official Spanish rule, he ably uses, modifies, and amplifies Quintero Riveras counter-plantation (pp. 15-16, 144, 146). He also refers to the ethnogenesis of a jbaro culture associated with the transformation of the remnants of the Indian population (p. 32). Herein lies a paradox that the book fails to explain. Chinea refers to Puerto Rico in the late eighteenth century as a pre-plantation society during a period in which it developed a counter-plantation type of resistance to S panish rule. Joining Mara del Carmen Baerga, David Stark, and other scholars who are currently studying the Black and Mulatto components of Puerto Rican society during the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, C hinea has pro vided a refreshing depiction of the West Indian contribution to Puerto R ican society based on impressive and extensive archival research.
133 BOOK REVIEW S Revisiting Caribbean Labour: Essays in Honour of O. Nigel Bolland. Constance R. Sutton (ed.). Kingston: Ian Randle, 2005. xviii + 150 pp. (Paper US $ 14.95)MARY CHAMBER L AIN Department of History Oxford Brookes U niversity Oxford OX3 0BP, U .K.
134 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) disturbances that began with the tobacco growers boycott of 1931 formed the backdrop to the decade as workers sought mechanisms through which to express and organize (and survive) discontent. Lauria-Perricelli also draws attention to two key areas demanding urgent scholarly investigation the level of international support extended to working-class struggles and the ways in which those struggles were supported on the ground, including who gave food, succor, and shelter to whom. While Lauria-Perricelli raises the international linkages in the struggles in Puerto Rico in the 1930s, Karla Slocums essay on the labor struggles of the 1990s by S t. L ucias banana producers explores the impact of the glob a l market on their living and working conditions. Required to change longestablished practices for a lower return on their goods, the banana producers formed a Banana Salvation Committee (BSC) to challenge the government and the activities of its agent, the St. Lucian Banana Growers Association ( SL BG A ). S ignificantly, the producers all small farmers translated them selves into the position of laborers and thus assumed a class relationship vis--vis both the government and the SLBGA, while the BSC was able to subvert the prevailing stereotypes of power and loyalty so that the banana producers, and not the government, were the ones with clout and integrity. Nevertheless, she points out, while the B SC provides an important reminder of the importance of local and national conditions in a global environment, the B SC itself ignored the needs of an important constituency of banana pro ducers and workers: women. T he exclusion of women is a familiar theme in labor history. R hoda R eddocks essay rescues the role of women in the disturbances in the British West Indies in the 1930s, a role hidden from much of the early historiography, as much as it was hidden from social reformers and even the labor leadership. L ocating womens resistance in the longue dure of slavery and postemanci pation society, she highlights the role women played in the resistance distur bances of the 1930s, culminating in the 1937-38 riots in T rinidad and Jamaica. In the aftermath of the riots, the newly formed trade unions, by promoting the notion of a family wage, effectively excluded women from membership, representation, and participation in this form of labor activity. Bringing the role of women in trade unions into the contemporary context, E L ynn Bolles shows in her essay how continuing sexism within the A nglophone C aribbean labor movement continued to make it difficult for women to participate in trade union activity, let alone aspire to leadership positions within it. E choing R eddocks argument, she points out that women did, nevertheless, participate, despite what was for many of them both struggle and sacrifice, until the 1980s when the Project for the Development of C aribbean Women in T rade U nions developed a program of training for women across a range of skills, result ing in a significantly enhanced level of participation by women at all levels (including leadership) in the trade union movement.
135 BOOK REVIEW S Constance Sutton and John Dumoulin, who have both revisited former sites of research, take two very different approaches. Suttons essay exam ines the 1958 wild-cat strikes of sugar workers in Barbados. T he sugar work ers were the largest workforce, but the most difficult to organize. Yet in 1958, 19,000 of them, almost half of whom were women, stopped work and shut down sugar production for five weeks. T he Barbados Workers U nion at first disowned them, and then sought to capitalize on their action. For the sugar workers, the strike provided a means of direct action, circumventing the political leadership which many distrusted or did not feel would be suffi ciently strong to stand up to their old enemy, the planter. T his was one of the longest strikes perhaps the longest in the history of Barbados, yet does not figure in national histories except as a vague reference to the 1958 sugar crisis, (see, for instance, Beckles 2004). The explanation may be found, as Sutton suggests, in the difficulty of placing the strike in a recognizable nar rative of labor heroism: there was no identifiable, male leader, nor was there the dubious glamor of violence. On the contrary, you had spontaneous action over several weeks, with strikers (women and men) sustained in the villages, proving an embarrassment, and challenge, to the newly elected political and trade union leaders. John Dumoulins essay examines the changes that have taken place in a remote Cuban sugar-producing community since his first visit in the early 1960s. Then, the village and family life for this mainly Spanish-heritage community was shaped by the sugar workers dependence on the local mill. E ducation was limited; men were the breadwinners and women their depen dants; unemployment was rife. A lthough the labor strikes of the 1930s were, by the 1950s, forgotten, the principles they represented land reform, fair wages remained. T he land reform of the 1960s not only expanded employ ment but brought a new generation into political activism, opening avenues for promotion, and employment opportunities for women. A Cuban retrospective is the focus of the final essay in the volume. The commodity here is the iconic Havana cigar. Jean S tubbs traces the production of the cigar and the ways tasks were de-skilled as they were taken over by either women or Blacks (or both). It also follows the migratory route of the cigar itself as migrs to North America set up shop in the 1890s and, more recently, in other sites within the Hispanic C aribbean. T he story is not merely one of challenges to, and appropriation of, an icon. It also reveals the raced and gendered history of the early labor struggles of tobacco workers not only in C uba but in the U nited S tates. The Caribbean and its labor, as Bolland suggests, has always been at the cutting edge of global trends and this collection of essays is a rich testament to Bollands original work. Its strengths lay in its cross-Caribbean focus, its thematic diversity, its emphasis on labor as agent of political change, the symbiosis between race, gender, and class and the ways in which narratives
136 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) and memories of labor are transmitted and transformed. T his is a timely and well-edited volume and points the way as good books should not only to understanding the past, but to future directions for research, exploring the development of historical consciousnesses within the region, or teasing out the continuing linkages between the global, the local, and the regional, particularly those from below. T here is much to be done, not least in incor porating experiences from the French and Dutch C aribbean. L et us hope that this book leads the way. REFERENCE SBECKLES, HILARY MCD. 2004. Chattel House Blues: Making of a Democratic Society in Barbados Kingston: Ian R andle; Oxford: James C urrey. BO LL AN D, O NIGE L 2001. The Politics of Labour in the British Caribbean: The Social Origins of Authoritarianism and Democracy in the Labour Movement. Kingston: Ian R andle. Paradise Overseas: The Dutch Caribbean: Colonialism and its Transatlantic Legacies GER T OO ST IN D IE. Oxford: Macmillan C aribbean, 2005. xii + 204 pp. (Paper 16.00)BRI D GE T BRERE T ON Department of History U niversity of the West Indies S t. A ugustine, T rinidad & T obago
137 BOOK REVIEW S left out material he felt was unnecessary for English-language readers who were likely to be familiar with the main lines of Caribbean history, and also omitted some entire chapters in the original. Three chapters have already appeared, in English, in other books. Oostindie wrote some sections origi nally in E nglish, others have been translated from Dutch. The present book, appearing in the long-running and prestigious Warwick U niversity C aribbean S tudies series, includes a valuable bibliography (pp. 181-199) with works in English, Dutch, Spanish, French, German, and Papiamentu (and, for all I know, Papiamento also). T he books rather postmodern origins and complicated history have pro duced not a narrative history, nor a straightforward account of Suriname, the Netherlands Antilles, and Aruba at the start of the twenty-first century, but seven interconnected essays on particular themes, historical and con temporary. The drawback of this structure is a tendency to repetition, both between chapters, and occasionally within a chapter (for instance, Chapter 4). On the positive side, it gives Oostindie the opportunity to consider a wide range of topics, moving seamlessly between Suriname, the islands, and the Netherlands, and displaying his effortless and erudite grasp of the history, and contemporary sociopolitical situation, of the seven formerly Dutch colo nies in the C aribbean. C hapter 1 offers a survey of Dutch C aribbean history assuming there was, or is, such an entity which stresses the huge differences between Suriname and the islands, and between the Leewards and the Windwards, despite the very small territorial extent and populations of the six islands (or, strictly, five and a half, since Sint Maarten/St. Martin is famously divided between France and the Netherlands). In addition to these striking diversi ties, Oostindie notes that the Dutch civilizing mission was always very weak; not only did the Dutch colonies have little in common with each other, they shared remarkably little with their colonizing power other than formal colonial rule: Dutch in name, these colonies were distinct from the mother country in most respects (p. 20). In an interesting second chapter, Oostindie examines the debate on slav ery and abolition in the Dutch C aribbean through the contemporary (mainly nineteenth-century) literature. T hat there was a debate is made clear, even if it was neither passionate, nor original in content (compared with the simi lar literature of the other slave powers), nor important to the Dutch people or even the elites. The literature always focused on Suriname, not surprisingly when we recall that slave labor was relatively insignificant to Curaao and the other islands by the 1800s while S uriname, of course, was a full-fledged plantation/slave economy. For this reviewer, C hapter 3, S tubborn Plurality, was the most reward ing of the seven essays. It is a thoughtful and erudite discussion of the ethnic and class composition of the former Dutch colonies, including very recent
138 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) developments. Divisions in Suriname are mainly ethnic (the pillars sup porting the society), in the islands color and culture (language and C hristian denomination especially) are the key principles of stratification, and Oostindie argues that neither ethnic differences in the former nor the color/ class hierarchy in the latter seem to be declining in recent years. S uriname, of course, has long been recognized as in many ways the most plural of all the Caribbean countries, and Oostindie notes that simple models dont work well when applied to that country, whether in the past or today. C hapters 4 and 5 deal with postwar political developments, dominat e d by the uneasy relationships between the C aribbean territories and the Netherlands since the 1954 Charter constituted a theoretically equal tripartite partner ship between the metropole, the A ntilles, and S uriname. In S uriname, C reole (Afro-Surinamese) politicians rather unexpectedly opted for independence, and the Dutch government enthusiastically complied (1975), but the A ntilles more prudently (and reinforced by the difficult experience of S uriname since 1975) went in the other direction. Aruba successfully negotiated for sepa rate status in 1986 but refused the condition that it would accept independ ence in the 1990s; the other five islands, still linked together in a sort of federal structure, made it clear that independence was not an option at all. The Hague had to accept that attempting to impose independence on these islands, against the wishes of their politicians and people, would ironically be seen as a high-handed, colonialist action an absurd scenario, as Oostindie puts it, yet it is the current reality. Even Suriname is still heavily dependent on the Netherlands for aid. The Hague is unable to disengage, and Oostindie believes that over the next decade there is likely to be even tual fragmentation into six separate polities (following A ruba), and increased direct Dutch administration (interference) over the islands in response to issues of good governance (corruption, drugs, international crime). Would this mean recolonization in territories which refuse independence? Chapter 6 focuses on the relatively large Caribbean diaspora in the Netherlands there are some 320,000 people of Surinamese origin there today, as compared to 420,000 in Suriname. And Chapter 7 meditates about the efforts to forge usable identities in the islands and in Suriname over the last few decades. Here Oostindie provides a trenchant, occasionally acerbic, yet always sympathetic analysis of how intellectuals and politicians from these postcolonial/recolonized little countries have tried to forge historical narratives to use their colonial pasts to create contemporary identities. Indeed, this is the tone that pervades Oostindies interesting book: clear-eyed, prag matic, unromantic, yet always engaged with, and immensely knowledgeable about, the Dutch C aribbean territories that are the subject of this book and the main focus of his formidable corpus of research and writing.
139 BOOK REVIEW S The Past Is Not Dead: Facts, Fictions, and Enduring Racial Stereotypes ALL AN PRE D. Minneapolis: U niversity of Minnesota Press, 2004. xxii + 281 pp. (Paper US $ 22.95)KAREN FOG OL WIGInstitute of A nthropology U niversity of C openhagen C openhagen K, Denmark
140 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) well as that of Pred, whose project became focused on examining Swedish representations, in text and image, of Badin through time. T hat led to his con cern with continuities in past and present stereotypes of Blacks and other out siders in S wedish society, as expressed in these representations, and, finally, the ways in which such representations have been experienced by those who are represented. The book is structured as two sets of montages, one focusing on Badin, the other looking at public displays of racial stereotypes from the late nine teenth to the late twentieth century. T he montages consist of lengthy excerpts from texts, mainly primary sources from the last 250 years, juxtaposed with statements by people of immigrant background describing their experiences with racism in Sweden today, woven together by Preds reflections. These reflections, and the whole rationale behind the book, are emblemized by two citations in the beginning of the book: The past is not dead. It is not even past (William Faulkner) and T elescoping of the past through the present (Walter Benjamin). T hese quotes have inspired Pred to imagine Badins feel ings of alienation through contemporary immigrants experiences of rejec tion and discrimination, and to show the roots of the present-day denial of racism in the historical treatment of Badin. Much of Preds fulsome imagining takes the form of questions about Badins feelings concerning his particular situation in Sweden as an indi vidual of high social status, yet generally regarded as belonging to an infe rior race. Pred asks, for example, What divided sentiments, if any, might have evaded Badins thoughts if he discovered that an expedition dispatched to the Senegal coast in 1787 was designed to explore the possibilities of establishing a Swedenborgian settlement that would also permit the newly born West Indian Company to pursue its slave-trading interests? And two questions later What anchors of identity, if any, might Badin have pulled up (again) upon recognizing that the very same people who denounced the gross misrepresentation of Africans, the very same self-styled humanitarians who most vigorously spoke on behalf of those of A frican origin, did not hesitate to depict them as weak, cowardly, and ignorant, in need of a manly and fear less upbringing? (p. 100). A nd about five long questions later the following questions are left hanging in the air: Was Badin overcome with simultane ous disbelief and resignation? Did he experience keen disappointment? Or a sense of betrayal? T he Janus face seen again? Was there a renewed aware ness of his out-of-placeness? Was his reaction whatever its form one that was totally unforgettable? (p. 101). The book reads for the most part like an assemblage of raw quotes from the copious notes Pred has compiled during his research, linked by his heartfelt sentiments concerning how Badin and other Others in Swedish society must feel, or have felt, about their fate. There is no doubt that Pred has a sincere desire to show the historical roots and continued relevance of racial
141 BOOK REVIEW S stereotyping in Sweden. However, by adopting a speculative and poetical writing style where Badin is subjected to a new kind of imagining that of the morally outraged person who has discovered that Sweden is not the perfect exemplar of racial harmony that it pretends to be Pred does his cause a disservice. R eading this book I ended up feeling sorry for Badin, who has now been subjected to yet another imagining, this time at Preds hands. Othering is at core a phenomenon rooted in the desire to reduce others to the object of ones own imagining and fantasies. It robs the identity of the othered person for ones own purposes. In this case the purpose may be sympathetic. Nevertheless, it ultimately appropriates Badins personhood, creating another instance of alienated identity. Poverty and Life Expectancy: The Jamaica Paradox JAMES C. RILEY Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005. xiii + 235 pp. (Cloth US$ 60.00)CRUZ MARA NAZARIODepartment of Biostatistics and E pidemiology Graduate S chool of Public Health U niversity of Puerto R ico R o Piedras, Puerto R ico 00931
142 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) which half of the cohort (of those born in 1970) will eventually have died under the assumption that mortality forces remain constant throughout their life. It is not a measure of maximum life span nor does it represent the life expectancy of the population living in Jamaica during 1970. Rileys causeeffect analysis does not properly consider these temporal distances. The book presents many figures and tables to illustrate changes in life expectancy observed in Jamaica since 1920. But in numerous instances, it uses ambiguous terms not substantiated by evidence to explain the changes. For example: most parishes had ... (p. 90); the schools had latrines, but never enough of them ... (p. 118); in 1950, most Jamaicans still did not have piped water ... (p. 121). T he reader is entitled to know: how many are more people or most parishes, relative to a total? What percentage of the schools, out of the total number, had adequate latrines? Readers will raise these and many other questions. R iley makes an important statement regarding the hygiene lessons taught in schools: Moreover, people had evidently absorbed these lessons (p. 120). However, this assertion is essentially called into question later on in the text, where one reads that until 1950s or 1960s, few people completed more than four years [of schooling]; the schools were poorly served in build ings, equipment, and educational material; and many teachers struggled with their own inadequate training (p. 192). Although one must agree with Riley that public health initiatives and education correlate with health improvements in the population, a correla tion is not an unequivocal proof of causality. It is also important to recognize that multiple factors play important roles in disease causation and that health initiatives or education do not impact all subgroups in the population in the same manner, as is shown by health disparities observed in many countries. One must also stress that behavior or lifestyle modifications take many years to reach significant proportions in the population. And finally, we have to consider that the latency or incubation periods of most diseases are also mea sured in years or even decades. T herefore, initiatives to reduce the incidence of disease should impact a considerable proportion of the population before they are exposed to specific risk factors in order to be cited as responsible for gains in life expectancy. Once the disease is present, the strongest modifiers of the risk of dying, as public health studies have shown, are access to early diagnosis and adequate treatment. T o prove that life expectancy is increasing in Jamaica, R iley considers agespecific mortality rates in different cross-sectional time periods. For example, he compares the mortality rates of children 5-9 years old in 1920, 1949-1951, 1970, and 2000. T his method controls or minimizes the age-effect in the mor tality trend, but misses the opportunity to evaluate the effect of exposures to risk factors as well as to disease patterns that the cohort has experienced since birth. T hose individuals that were born in 1920, were 10 years old in 1930,
143 BOOK REVIEW S they were 30 years old in 1950, and 80 in the year 2000. T hus, the impact of schooling, health initiatives and other socioeconomic factors in this cohorts survival could be very different from those of a cohort of Jamaicans born, for example, in 1970. T he information for these analyses (birth cohort and period effect) is probably available in Jamaicas health information. T he concluding section of the last chapter states that in Jamaica, gains in life expectancy up to the 1970s were led by improvement in public health, schooling and changes in individual behavior (p. 194). But the books evi dence that schooling was effective is extemporaneous and unspecific. R ileys conclusion that life expectancy in Jamaica increased principally because of edu cation and that the decrease in mortality reflects the effectiveness of schooling is a petitio principii Further analysis and alternative explanations that include multiple factors without excluding other possibilities are warranted. The Tears of Hispaniola: Haitian and Dominican Diaspora Memory LUCIA M. SUREZ. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2006. xii + 224 pp. ( C loth US $ 59.95)J. MICHAE L DA S H Department of French New York U niversity New York NY 10003, U S A < email@example.com u >At the end of the novel The Farming of Bones Edwidge Danticat imagines the Massacre R iver, located on the border between Haiti and the Dominican Republic, as a space of memory for Haiti and the Dominican Republic. Her protagonist, Amabelle, describes herself as half submerged, the current floating over me in a less than gentle caress, the pebbles scouring my back. Hovering between life and death, belonging and uprooting, past and present, Amabelle, whose name epitomizes her own ambiguous identity, represents a novel idea of Haitian and Dominican identity. This borderland river that marked the massacre of the T ainos by the S panish and later Haitian braceros by the Dominican military is construed as the hinterland space of Haitian and Dominican memory. In this fictional scene Danticat questions old ideas of self-definition in the island of Hispaniola. In her preface to R en Philocttes Massacre River (2005), Danticat describes visiting the Massacre River in 1995 and finding that this river filled with ghosts had become simply
144 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) a tiny braid of water. The diminished nature of the river makes Danticats image of the river as a birthplace, a kind of amniotic fluid bloodied by his tory, even more forceful, as she envisions a new people fluid as the waters themselves attempting to emerge despite the policed nature of this space. Lucia Surez is less interested in the capacity of fiction to rethink the past. R ather, as the title of her study states, she focuses singlemindedly on the tears of Hispaniola. One never doubts her good intentions but her expos reduces the complex political tragedy of Haiti and the Dominican Republic to simple melodrama. We are told that European colonizers arrived in the Caribbean, decided the natives were less than human, and enslaved them (p. 32). Later, the violence in Hispanic Caribbean culture is explained by macho bravado ... [which] originates in the E uropean discovery and colo nization of the Americas (p. 107). If only it were that simple. The tone of the work becomes even more shrill in the many asides and homilies that are scattered throughout the text. S urez does not mince words in calling S tenio Vincent a pimp of sorts, and Duvalier, T rujillo, and Aristide are simply patriarchs enriching themselves at the expense of the people who come out of their makeshift homes to support a newly emerged father figure (p. 37). This is the cartoon version of Caribbean politics whose gruesome excesses deserve a more serious treatment. S ince the main aim of this study is to address human rights issues, S uarez takes a narrow, sociological view of the literary text, treating it essen tially as testimony. R eaders are told in the introduction that she set out to find ways in which literature intervenes constructively against a landscape of death, loss, and violence which the island of Hispaniola and its diaspora have inherited (p. 8). Just in case we might have missed the point in the succeed ing pages, we are reminded in her conclusion that she has attempted to show the significance of literature as an agent that intervenes in society beyond the strict realm of the aesthetic act (p. 184). Writing is, therefore, judged essen tially in terms of its ability to give voice to silenced horrors. C onsequently, she is unforgiving of writers who are less than explicit in their reformist intentions. Junot Daz fares badly: Drown is too ambiguous for S urezs taste and she hopes he will mend his ways as the next book may point to the pain of memory. Her investment in the idea of the titles tears, which is invoked throughout the text with numbing repetitiveness, leads her to dwell on the grueling details of JeanR obert C adets autobiography of an abused slave child, Restavek T he fact that this story might be exaggerated or false is given short shrift in S urezs study. S uch an approach reduces L oida Prezs Geographies of Home to a feminist story that traces [a] journey of self-dis covery and self-empowerment (p. 153). Danticats first novel passes muster as a form of therapy since the autobiographical literature of trauma provides an important opportunity for victims to testify [ ...] about abuses they suf fered (p. 80). No attempt is made to differentiate Danticats fiction from the
145 BOOK REVIEW S testimonies of F A VI LE K ( Fanm Viktim Leve Campe Women Victims Get U p, S tand U p), since all are seen as acts against violence. Marie C hauvets trilogy, Amour colre folie is also approvingly described as a denuciation of rape, suggesting that S urez could not have possibly read it. It would be easy to treat Tears of Hispaniola as a dismaying example of good intentions gone awry but S urez seems to have a personal agenda. Not only does one have the feeling that it is narrated in the first person, but it is about giving visibility to Dominicans in the diaspora. T he personal aspect of the text is fully unleashed in C hapter 5, which describes S urezs own visit to the Dominican R epublic. We then realize why the S panish quotations in the work are not translated since it appears that the primary readership is expected to be Dominican. We are told in great detail of the work of C ity U niversitys Dominican S tudies Institute and given an approved list of women writers from the Dominican R epublic. Haitian writers are arguably not treated with such care. We are surprised to learn that traditional Haitian literature was written in the we voice (p. 149). Is it true to say that Haitians do not want to remember the massacre of 1937? R en Depestre would be surprised to learn that Face la nuit is considered unsympathetic to exploited children by S urez, who misses its ironic tone. T here is certainly need for a sober, sophisticated treat ment of the function of memory in the writing from the diaspora created by the turbulent politics of Hispaniola. Tears of Hispaniola is not that book.REFERENCE SCADET, JEAN-ROBER T, 1998. Restavec: From Haitian Slave Child to Middle-Class American. A ustin: U niversity of T exas Press. P REZ, LOI D A MARI T ZA 1999. Geographies of Home. New York: Viking. PHI L OC T T E, REN, 2005. Massacre River. New York: New Directions.
146 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) Family Love in the Diaspora: Migration and the Anglo-Caribbean Experience. MARY CHAMBERLAIN. New Brunswick NJ: T ransaction Publishers, 2006. xv + 245 pp. ( C loth US $ 39.95)KEVIN BIR T HDepartment of A nthropology Queens C ollege, C ity U niversity of New York Flushing NY 11367, U S A
147 BOOK REVIEW S intergenerational perspective lays the foundation for one of the most interest ing insights of her book, namely, the persistence of family organization and sentiments over time, space, and economic condition. Rather than arguing that the African Caribbean family organization is functional in contexts of poverty, as some others have done, she is able to describe how it is used strategically in a variety of circumstances. A s a result, she successfully dem onstrates that this family organization cannot be seen as either the cause or the result of poverty, but rather as a cultural institution that adapts to a variety of socioeconomic conditions and social challenges. Part 3 examines some of the well-known features of African Caribbean family organizations: the role of grandparents, community involvement in child-rearing, and the importance of siblings, aunts, and uncles. One of the most interesting elements of this section of the book is Chamberlains dis cussion of how such family values persist across socioeconomic classes. Moreover, she shows that they remain strong despite the challenges of migra tion. Neither distance nor differences of class, education, or occupation are sufficient to overcome the resiliency of family and kinship practices. T he last part of the book adopts a comparative perspective. U nfortunately, the penultimate chapter, on Indian Caribbean families, does not meet the same standards as the others. Unlike the groundwork Chamberlain laid for the discussion of African Caribbean families, there is no discussion of tra ditional family structures in India even though, in purely temporal terms, Indian migration resulting from indentureship ended in 1917, over a hundred years after the official end of the British trade of enslaved Africans in 1807. She claims that the family and kin practices are different, but because she delves into the features of Indian C aribbean families with less detail than for African Caribbean families, the contrast is not made as clearly as it could have been, and the point that binds the two groups, namely the persistence of family and kin forms in recent migrations, is weakly argued. In addition, while C hamberlain criticizes demagogic positions that privi lege nuclear families as the only functional families, she does not address how the concept of the nuclear family is embedded in immigration laws and how such laws might influence West Indian migrants and their families. S ince one of her central concerns is to challenge the way policy makers think, evidence that migration laws privileging E uropean-style nuclear families do not result in migrant populations consisting of nuclear families would have been useful in documenting how these laws are subtly discriminatory, not only toward West Indians, but toward many other migrant populations as well. These are minor quibbles in the face of the immensely important dem onstration that African Caribbean families are resilient to a variety of social challenges, and that rather than being a source of social problems, they are sources of support and strength.
148 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) The Garifuna: A Nation Across Borders JOSEPH PALACIO (ed.). Benque Viejo del Carmen, Belize: Cubola Productions, 2005. 270 pp. (Paper US$ 25.00)GRAN T JEWE LL RICHGoddard C ollege Plainfield V T 05667, U S A
149 BOOK REVIEW S while the central drum, heart drum, suggests that the rhythms symbolize the heartbeat (p. 170). It is stated that the body is composed of mud (and cassava starch) and such substances play key roles. Ancestors journey to the dugu from sairi the afterworld of luxurious manioc gardens (p. 167) and S t. Vincent. Palacio refers lovingly to the obsession of the Garifuna with genealogi cal details (p. 52). Writing on dugu participation, he notes that the descent lines originating from the ancestors follow through the living participants down the fourth and fifth generations. T he living participants can number scores, converging from their homes in Belize, other countries in central A merica, and the U nited S tates. Furthermore, in the conviviality of the gathering many will become acquainted with relatives for the first time. (p. 111)The importance of the ancestors is illustrated by a dugu song, Our journey has been sad my grandchild / We have been searching for our grandchildren / We have been crossing the deep ocean / For our descendants are far away (p. 167). Roy Cayetanos poem also communicates respect for the ances tors: And the queens English shall not quiet the / Drums of my fathers / R umbling in my bones / R ecapturing my soul (p. 176). Ethnomusicologist Oliver Greene, Jr. offers an insightful analysis of the John Canoe ( wanaragua ) rite, the yearly Christmas house-to-house procession in which participants dress in British military costumes, along with masks, headdresses, and knee rattles. Greene traces relevant history through eighteenth-century Jamaican accounts and describes West African and even Bantu influences. The procession traditionally occurred as slaves had Christmas off from plantation work, and the symbolism of John Canoe derives in part from role reversal and empowerment (p. 207). Writing on contemporary Belizean Garifuna identity, Gabriel Izard describes a recent S ettlement Day banner that proclaims, T alk Garifuna, eat hudut, dance punta! S ettlement Day, which celebrates Dangrigas founding, was established by leaders, including popular hero T homas Vincent R amos, who was greatly influenced by ideas of Marcus Garvey and was one of the first Garifuna to support U NI A ( U niversal Negro Improvement A ssociation) (p. 191). T oday, visitors to Dangriga may meet the buyei the drum-maker, the painter Benjamin Nicholas, and other Garifuna leaders, and, in general, become immersed in the culture. Miss Garifuna is selected not just according to physical attributes, but on her ability to speak Garifuna, cook ethnic food, and dance punta. L anguage survival and bilingual education are hot topics among the Garifuna, where in Belize, few children learn it as a first language. Along with classic works by Douglas T aylor, Nancie Gonzalez, and Virginia Kerns, and a recent book by Carel Roessingh (2001), Palacios collection is a must-have for scholars of the Garifuna. Despite overcoming
150 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) incredibly inhumane treatment over the last several centuries, some argue that the cultural survival of the contemporary Garifuna is severely threat ened. Marion C ayetano and R oy C ayetano write that the threat comes from the Garinagu themselves as well as from the profound effects of globalization .... They have learned and now even teach the history, language and culture of those who colonized them, while losing their own identity in the process. Consequently their vulnerability has extended to allowing others to define them and their rights further widening an alien ation from their own roots. (p. 236) Yet these essays confirm that the essence of the Garifuna culture continues not only to survive but also to thrive. T here is hope.REFERENCEROE SS INGH, CARE L, 2001. The Belizean Garifuna: Organization of Identity in an Ethnic Community in Central America. A msterdam: R ozenberg. Caribbean Literature and the Environment: Between Nature and Culture EL IZABE T H M DELOUGHERY, RENE K GO SS ON & GEORGE B HAN DL EY (eds.). C harlottesville: U niversity of Virginia Press, 2005. xii+ 303 pp. ( C loth US $ 59.50)BONHAM C RICHAR DS ON6120 E ast T erritory A venue T ucson A Z 85750, U S A < firstname.lastname@example.org m > In this readers well-crafted introduction, the editors remind us that in The Middle Passage V. S Naipaul attributed the C aribbeans colonial prosperity and decline to small-scale insularity because the size of the islands called for nothing else (p. 3). T he assertion is debatable because the very smallest places in the region were often ignored by European colonizers and often escaped plantation development. Yet the important issue here is that Naipaul and other famous Caribbean writers have acknowledged and emphasized time and again the regions physical environments, not as colorful backdrops but more often as dynamic mirrors and molds of C aribbean history.
151 BOOK REVIEW S Caribbean Literature and the Environment presents a number of original, high-quality essays that add to the growing field of environmental literary studies (p. 2). T ogether with a wide-ranging bibliography, they are useful to those of us with environmental interests in the region but whose awareness of C aribbean literary studies is limited to the regions best-known writers and those who deal with particular research locales. Besides the editors introduc tion and Wilson Harriss previously published epilogue, the book has seven teen original essays. T wo are interview transcripts, and one is a previously unpublished piece by Derek Walcott. The essays, all in English, each run about fifteen pages in length and cover subject matter from the Caribbeans major language areas. For the most part, the prose is comprehensible and devoid of excessive quotation marks, intraword slashes, and cryptic termi nology. A broad geographical coverage includes several essays devoted to the Guianas, although the editors apologize unnecessarily for regional gaps owing to an uneven response to our call for papers (p. 29). The chapters are organized under four headings: Natural Histories, Myths of Origins, Hybridity and Creolization, and Aesthetics of the E arth. T hese categories work fairly well, although most of the essays would have been just as effective sorted into different groupings. C yril Dabydeens thoughtful article about growing up along the Canje Creek in Guyana, for example, probably could have been included in any of the four categories. The editors introduction points out that Caribbean environmental writ ing often assumes a conservation-oriented, anti-market bias owing to the centuries of externally controlled exploitation and ecological destruction of the region. From there it is a short step to the gendered metaphor wherein masculine European exploitation historically has penetrated the feminized and maternal womb of Caribbean landscapes (p. 12). This theme reoc curs elsewhere in the reader, notably in T renton Hickmans analysis of Julia Alvarezs A Cafecito Story The editors do not insist on the gendered meta phor of dominance and exploitation as an overriding theme, yet neither do they reconcile it with C aribbean environmental realities. A lthough obviously devastated by agents of external market forces over time, the C aribbean envi ronment is hardly a passive entity. Rather, the regions geophysical ambi ence can be dangerous, unruly, and highly unpredictable. Yet one searches Caribbean Literature and the Environment in vain for even a mention of the earthquakes, hurricanes, and droughts that have punctuated Caribbean his tory. This reality certainly should be reflected in Caribbean environmental writing, metaphorical and otherwise. These points are not intended to diminish the strong environmen tal points elsewhere in the reader. Isabel Hovings fine essay dealing with Shani Mootoos Cereus Blooms at Night sums up the novels analysis of the C aribbean environment not as an essence from which one could deduce norms, but as unstable, inharmonious, damaging and damaged (p. 164),
152 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) thereby capturing the complexity, messiness, and unpredictability in nature that bewilder and fascinate biological ecologists. Eric Prietos The Uses of Landscape explains the ecological relevance of Patrick Chamoiseaus term urban mangrove for T exaco and other Martiniquan neighborhoods: Just as the swampy terrain of mangrove forests allows a mutually beneficial exchange of nutrients and waste between land and sea, the ring of shantytowns surrounding Fort-de-France allows an analogous exchange between city and country (p. 241). Lizabeth Paravisini-Geberts He of the T rees addresses the articulation of an environmentalist thought linked to religiosity in the Caribbean novel (p. 183). Her article concludes effectively with a descrip tion of the washing away of the Haitian village of Mapou named after a sacred species of tree in May 2004. The articles not grounded in environ mental specifics are less successful. Shona N. Jacksons assertion that, with political independence, relationships between Guyanas interior and coast never really changed because the new development discourse of the admin istration continued to be made in terms set during the colonial peri o d (p. 95) would have been far stronger had she mentioned, to cite only one example, the massive cyanide spill from a gold mine on the Omai tributary of the E ssequibo R iver in 1995. Most of the books essays deserve reading, rereading, and reflection, espe cially Harriss epilogue in which he cites his own 1968 publication describ ing the Earth as a moving, fluid entity: the mountains appeared now like a lofty crest of water ... undulating and refracting ... fluid/solid water/fire cauldron of space (p. 263). His description of a mobile, dynamic planet may strike younger readers as a familiar-sounding introduction to an earth science video, yet when Harris originally wrote this passage most geologists still believed in a static E arth whose macro features derived from planetary cool ing or cycles of erosion and sedimentation. Not until the 1970s did geologists accept the idea of plate tectonics and undertake a massive reinterpretation of the traditional explanations offered for continental phenomena (Bowler 1993:424). In his writings about the Caribbean environment, inspired orig inally by his observations of Guyanas interior as a young land surveyor, Harris thereby has provided one more example of art informing science. REFERENCEBOW L ER, PE T ER J. 1993. The Norton History of the Environmental Sciences New York: Norton.
153 BOOK REVIEW S Ici-L: Place and Displacement in Caribbean Writing in French MARY GALLAGHER (ed.). Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2003. xxix + 308 pp. (Paper US$ 46.00)CHRI ST INA KU LL BERG Department of French New York U niversity New York NY 10003, U S A < C email@example.com>A t the conclusion of the conference Ici-L : Place and Displacement in C aribbean Writing in French, held in Dublin in 1999, Mary Gallagher cited a character in the movie The Commitments who says that the Irish are the Blacks of E urope. From there she explores further links between Ireland and in particular the French C aribbean. A s is often the case, places and existences that seem worlds apart collide in the C aribbean. For Gallagher, L afcadio Hearn is the Hermes figure who links the Irish experience of colo nization and insularity to the former French colonies in the West Indies. Her closing remark pushes to the extreme the theme of the conference volume: place and displacement. In a C aribbean context, place seems to imply dis placement here is always already there for better or for worse. Hence the title Ici-L a creolism that appears often in Francophone C aribbean texts, which Gallagher, by making a detour to Derek Walcotts poetry, translates as here and elsewhere. S he argues that this expression testifies to a complex, unsettled, and dislocated relation to place as well as to a distinct sense of connection and simultaneity between the local and the distant, between here and (over) there (p. xiv-xv). T he crossing of here and there in the expres sion ici-l condenses issues that are still haunting the C aribbean. First, there is the generalized sentiment of temporal and spatial dispossession. S econd, there is a more visionary experience that we are now living in a creolized world, which would turn the C aribbean into an image of a world to come. Bringing together established scholars in the field such as Celia Britton, Bernadette Cailler, Maximilien Laroche, and Beverly Ormerod, along with a younger generation of academics, the conference brilliantly summed up what has been at the center of attention for French Caribbean literary critics and scholars time and space. And it is difficult not to see the conference as the point of departure for Gallaghers own book, Soundings in French Caribbean Writing since 1950 T he papers that are presented in the published version cover a large spec trum of fiction, though Martiniquan writer Patrick C hamoiseau is given a particularly important role, with almost a whole section ( S ites of C aribbean
154 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) Imagination) devoted to him. C hamoiseaus work, along with that of E douard Glissant, is subjected to close readings dealing with places and their function in a more textual geography. A t first glance these focused textual analyses seem to go against the idea of here and elsewhere. However, not only is it refreshing to read more monographic approaches in a field dominated by comparative studies, but these readings also show the possibility of concen trating on the local in order to reach the global. In this regard, the two papers on C hamoiseaus Texaco turn out to be complementary: Maeve Mc C usker investigates the smallest entity of C hamoiseaus C aribbean urban vision, la case whereas R oy C handler C aldwell writes about the novel in terms of a new kind of postmodern city defined by a local rehumanized communi t y (p. 37). A n excellent paper by C elia Britton explores how the real enters Glissants fiction through the way in which the writer concentrates attention on specific sites. S he convincingly demonstrates the role of place by tracing lexical repetitions as markers of sameness in his writing, which, on a more theoretical level, tends to give priority to diversity and tout-monde A nother strong side of the conference volume is that several texts bridge the two extremes of the Caribbean: poor and isolated Haiti on the one hand, and the assimilated French overseas departments, Guadeloupe and Martinique, on the other. (French Guiana, however, is not included.) Martin Munros paper deals with the real and imagined postcolonial place in rela tion to the experience of exile and compares Martiniquan Aim Csaire to Haitian Ren Depestre. Martin Munro shows that Depestre does not negoti ate his relationship to his homeland in the same triangular structure (Africa, Caribbean, and France) as Csaire does since he, an independent Haitian, does not conceive of the West Indies as a void. Gallagher discusses simi lar phenomena in her essay about Haitian Emile Olliviers Passages and Guadeloupean Ernest Ppins Tambour Babel While both Gallagher and Munro tend to overlook the complexities that can be traced in a lot of Haitian writing coming out of the diaspora, Maximilien L aroches essay presents an interesting analysis of the myth of Haiti C hrie. Continuing on the Haitian path, Charles Forsdick then creates further connections in a fascinating paper about the cachot de Joux where Napoleon imprisoned T oussaint L Ouverture who eventually died there. Forsdick takes a specific lieu de mmoire and demonstrates what happens when Caribbean memory is displaced to E urope, where it forces E uropean history to take into account marginalized aspects of its own past. He shows that L Ouvertures destiny has been a source of inspiration for E uropean romantics as well as for contemporary C aribbean writers. From a tiny cell in the Jura, Forsdick devel ops an intriguing story about transatlantic connections, silenced pasts, and pan-Caribbean possibilities. Perhaps his essay can be said to illustrate the ways in which the entire volume actually puts the idea of ici-l into practice by continuously offering new connections between here and elsewhere.
155 BOOK REVIEW S T he essays then continue on the path traced by Glissant in his Caribbean Discourse arguing that C aribbean literature in French needs to be reinscribed in its American context. From this lieu it can open up to an infinity of con tacts with other milieus despite isolation and dependence that constitute the reality of the French C aribbean today.REFERENCEGALLAGHER, MARY 2002. Soundings in French Caribbean Writing since 1950: The Shock of Space and Time. New York: Oxford U niversity Press. Caribbean Popular Music: An Encyclopedia of Reggae, Mento, Ska, Rock Steady, and Dancehall DAVID V MOSKOWITZ. Westport CT : Greenwood Press, 2006. xxii + 346 pp. ( C loth US $ 85.00)KENNE T H BI L BYC olumbia C ollege C enter for Black Music R esearch C hicago I L 60605-1996, U S A .T his handsomely designed book announces its flaws right up front. T he first red flag is raised by its seriously misleading title. With two or three excep tions, every entry in this encyclopedia of C aribbean popular music focus e s on Jamaican music. No attention whatsoever is paid to Cuba, Haiti, the Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, Martinique, or Guadeloupe Caribbean places that, one might argue, are not bereft of interesting popular music. Nor is there any mention of the Bahamas, despite the photo of a Bahamian Junkanoo parade on the cover. (T rinidad and T obago, in contrast, merits token representation, with an entry on the Mighty Sparrow.) In reality, the volume (as suggested by its subtitle) is nothing more nor less than an ency clopedia of Jamaican popular music. E ven as a reference work devoted specifically to Jamaican music, it often baffles. For instance, the very first entry (at nearly one-and-a-half pages, one of the longest in the book) is devoted to A&M Records. Here we learn all we might ever want to know about this Los Angeles-based record label, founded in the early 1960s by famed trumpet player Herb Alpert, and its successes with acts such as the T ijuana Brass, the Baja Marimba Band,
156 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) and S ergio Mendes and Brazil 66. A pparently the sole reason for the entrys length is the fact that, during the 1970s, the A&M label licensed several British rock recordings (along with a reggae album or two) from Chris Blackwells Island R ecords. T he following entry, on A B C R ecords, summarizes the history of anoth e r North A merican label known for chart-topping pop and rock performers such as Paul A nka and S teely Dan. T here is not a single mention of Jamaican music here; the rationale for the entry (though its nowhere made explicit) appears to be that among A B C s impressive roster of blues and R nB artists were a couple (namely Fats Domino and L loyd Price) who exerted a significant influence on Jamaican popular music during its formative years. These two opening entries which are not the only ones connected very tenuously to Jamaican music set the tone for the sometimes mystifying compilation of facts that take up the following three hundred plus pages. S ome of the books problems clearly stem from an excessive reliance on the Internet. Many entries read as if they were cut and pasted from the web sites of reggae artists, labels, and fans, with only minor tweaking before being transferred to the page, and the prose is often reminiscent of music industry cant. Of course, one of the perils of using the Internet for research is the noto rious unreliability of much of the wealth of information it makes available. Separating the trustworthy from the totally unfounded can be an enormous task when relying on websites, many of which fail to credit sources clearly (a scholarly failing that Moskowitz shares here), so it comes as no surprise that the encyclopedia is littered with errors, both minor and major. I cite just a few that are representative of the kinds of errors scattered throughout the book. All three Nyabinghi drums, we are told, are double-membrane (p. 7) when in fact two are single-membrane. Louise Bennetts storied career is said to have started in 1970 (p. 27), a date that will come as a major surprise to those who were enjoying her work decades earlier. Moskowitz places the city of Kingston in rural Westmoreland parish, on the other side of the island (p. 232). He confuses Byron Lee of the Dragonaires with producer Bunny S triker L ee (p. 285). He transforms the Wailers harmony coach Joe Higgs into record producer Joe Gibbs (p. 300), and on p. 318 the seminal producer and singer Prince Buster becomes Prince T ubby (in an apparent mix-up with engineer and dub pioneer King T ubby). Finally, birth dates and other chronological references are often wildly off. S avvier readers will see this volumes failings as symptomatic of a larger problem. Because of reggaes commercial success beyond its birthplace, writing on Jamaican music frequently suffers from a shallowness born of the yawning distance that typically separates foreign music industries and markets (and the pop music journalists who cater to them) from the cultural milieu from which reggae sprang and continues to grow. If Moskowitz has ever been to Jamaica, one cannot tell by reading his book. Despite the enor
157 BOOK REVIEW S mous quantity of facts listed in hundreds of entries, there is little here on the actual cultural resonance and deeper significance of Jamaican music for its makers and local audiences. A ccusations of cultural misapprehension have become a common refrain among Jamaican critics irritated by a proliferat ing literature on their national music written almost entirely by foreigners. One can imagine further gnashing of teeth and tearing out of (dread)locks in response to this latest offering. In all seriousness, though, the book, despite its many flaws, does make a useful contribution of sorts. Anyone who would attempt to produce a com prehensive encyclopedia of a popular music as famous for its poorly docu mented and incompletely known history as for its protean vastness deserves credit for bravery. And I would be remiss if I did not point out that buried within the motley assortment of often questionable facts in this volume are many pieces of information and clues that could be of considerable value to researchers prepared to view and evaluate these fragments alongside other sources and to do some further digging. T o all others: handle with caution! The volume is graced by dozens of high-quality photographs. As might be expected in a book of this kind, all of them come from a single web-based service, U rbanImage.tv, that makes available the camera work of well-known music writers and crack photo journalists for a fee. Defining Creole JOHN H. MCWHOR T ER. Oxford: Oxford U niversity Press, 2005. viii + 435 pp. (Paper US $ 49.95)BE TT INA M MIGGES chool of Irish, C eltic S tudies, Irish Folklore and L inguistics U niversity C ollege Dublin Belfield C ampus Dublin 4, Ireland < firstname.lastname@example.org e > In this volume John McWhorter reiterates his views on creole genesis and attempts to expose the ideological issues that he believes have been nega tively affecting research on creoles and preventing the acceptance of his own position. T he overall tenor of the original parts and the anthological nature of the book suggest that his target audience is less creolists than nonspecialists. T he book is divided into three parts, each consisting of several chapters and dealing with a separate issue relating to his account of creole genesis. A one-
158 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) page preface announces the general issues investigated in the book, names what he sees as the main sources of malaise in creole studies, and acknowl edges that the chapters are often overlapping and represent slightly updated reprints of earlier articles. E ach part consists of a several-page introduction, sometimes introduced by a personal anecdote or an analogy, with a discus sion of what he considers to be the pertinent ideological problem inhibiting an objective view of the issue to be addressed and its resolution, and a brief summary of each paper, including the rationale for including it. There are notes and references for each chapter at the end of the book. Because of limited space I will only comment on Parts One and T wo. The first part gathers together five papers dealing with the definition of the term creole and ultimately with the question of whether there are any linguistic properties that set creoles apart from other languages. U nlike most creolists, McWhorter gives an affirmative answer, arguing that creoles natu rally differ from other languages in that they lack three features: inflectional affixation, grammatical tone, and semantically opaque morphological com positions (derivational noncompositionality). According to McWhorter, the relative absence of these features in creoles is predictable because they are not useful for communication and only arise over a long period of time through language-internal change. As relatively recent creations creoles would thus not be able to have any or only very few of these features, though as the languages age they would be likely to emerge. The few instances of such features in creoles are mainly explained as rare instances of borrowing from the creoles European input language resulting from very close con tact between the two languages. He proposes that the ultimate reason for the absence of the three properties is that creole grammars are born from proc esses of pidginization involving the reduction of all non-essential grammati cal features. His evidence comes largely from broad comparisons of creoles with a range of other languages and one creole, Saamaka (or Saramaccan), to one of its substrates, Fongbe. While few people working on creoles today would maintain either that they are (close) copies of their linguistic inputs or that creole genesis did not involve processes of reduction, there are also few who would accept McWhorters strong position. Current research clearly shows that the social and linguistic conditions that led to the emergence of creoles were highly variable, suggesting that no single linguistic process can account for most or all of their linguistic features. Moreover, McWhorters notion of pidginization is rather unspecific. His attempt to assign the histori cally heterogeneous social term creole a linguistic rationale may have fared somewhat better in that little counter-evidence has been brought forward to date. However, I am wondering what we stand to gain from it. In what way will this proposal give rise to new insights or directions of research? T o my knowledge none have yet emerged.
159 BOOK REVIEW S T he papers in the second part deal with the linguistic processes that led to the emergence of creoles. McWhorter criticizes the heavy emphasis in creole studies on contact-induced language-change-based explanations, including the interest in sociohistorically viable theorizing, and the interest in high lighting the social and linguistic variation across situations. In his view, this emphasis is due to certain liberal ideological stances within the field and con tributes to making creoles and creole genesis into exceptional cases; the tra ditional historical linguistic view of language relationships posits that most change is language-internal. Based on certain linguistic features shared by some of the E nglish-lexified Atlantic creoles, he thus proposes to dust off the old monogenesis theory which states that these creoles have a common origin on the west coast of A frica. T he original creole was then transplanted to the Caribbean and South America where it underwent mainly languageinternal changes. T his account has attracted little support for several reasons. First, it is now widely accepted that the importance of language-internal explanations for change has been much overestimated in historical linguis tic research and that other processes such as contact played a much greater role in the development of all languages. Second, creole genesis research today is highly diversified and rather than searching for a single all-inclusive explanation it focuses on understanding how the different linguistic inputs (e.g., European and non-European languages, creoles from other colonies) and linguistic processes (e.g., L2 acquisition, contact, language-internal change) conspired to give rise to creoles and which processes were involved in their post-emergence development. Third, although McWhorter is argu ing for greater attention to language-internal change, his own work on such processes lacks the analytical rigor otherwise characteristic of diachronic investigations. Overall, this book provides readers with a detailed view of McWhorters assessment of creole studies, one that is rather at odds with most current concerns and thinking in the field. However, unlike Bickertons controversial bioprogram theory from the 1980s, it holds little promise for sparking new avenues of investigation inside or outside the area.
160 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007) In Search of a National Identity: Creole and Politics in Guadeloupe. ELL EN M. SCHNEPEL. Hamburg: Helmut Buske Verlag; Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2004. xvii + 294 pp. (Paper US $ 56.80)PAU L B GARRE TTDepartment of A nthropology T emple U niversity Philadelphia P A 19122, U S A
161 BOOK REVIEW S the historical context in which it emerged. The introduction delineates the books central concern: the tensions between assimilation and cultural speci ficity that arose in Guadeloupe in the decades following departmentaliza tion, i.e. the official incorporation, beginning in 1946, of Guadeloupe and other colonized territories into the French nation-state as overseas depart ments. Although Guadeloupe has received considerably less attention than Martinique, a unique configuration of historical, sociocultural, and politicoeconomic factors have made tensions more acute in Guadeloupe, Schnepel asserts, particularly where language is concerned. As it unfolds in the eight chapters that follow, Schnepels study takes the form of a nuanced, pains takingly detailed analysis of those factors and of the role of Guadeloupes French-lexified creole language in symbolically, discursively, and ideologi cally mediating the complex relationships among them. S chnepel takes as the focal point of her study a multifaceted conflict over the introduction of C reole in a secondary school, moving smoothly between micro and macro levels of analysis as she examines the local dynamics of that conflict and its societal, regional, and transnational implications. T his is accomplished in part by devoting a full chapter to each of three key sites in which the controversies and debates unfolded: the school and local commu nity, the mass media (print, radio, and television), and partisan political pro cesses (in Guadeloupe as well as in other French C aribbean territories and France). T hroughout the book, S chnepel is concerned with relationships within and among three broadly defined groups: language strategists and the inter est groups that they constitute and represent; politicians and other community leaders, as brokers and manipulators of ideas and plans of action generated among the language strategists; and ordinary citizens (variously referred to as the public, the people, the folk, etc.) who collectively respond to, and often reshape, the ideas, discourses, policies, and programs of action that emerge from the activities of the language strategists and political brokers. Despite its concern with language issues, the study is not at all linguistic in orientation, nor is it sociolinguistic or linguistic anthropological in the usual sense. Rather, Schnepel takes what might be characterized as a sociology of language approach, grounding her study in ethnographic fieldwork and a social anthropological perspective that emphasizes the densely interwoven relationships among local actions and events and the larger contexts and sys tems within which they unfold, and which they in turn influence and trans form. Glimpses of the C reole language, so central to the books concerns, are surprisingly few and far between. Lengthy passages in French, on the other hand, are used throughout the text; these are drawn from diverse sources, including scholarly works, official documents, newspapers and other locally produced publications, letters and emails to the author from key informants, and transcriptions of Schnepels numerous interviews with an impressively broad range of activists, politicians, scholars, and others.
162 New West Indian Guide / Nieuwe West-Indische Gids vol. 81 no. 1 & 2 (2007)T he book is clearly not written for a wide audience or for casual readers, and would not lend itself to teaching purposes outside of a narrowly focused graduate seminar. A side from the fact that it presupposes solid reading knowl edge of French, the book is at times rendered less than accessible by the sheer detail of its explications of the intricacies of language politics in Guadeloupe, Martinique, France, and beyond. (Almost three full pages of the front mat ter are devoted to a glossary of acronyms used in the text more than seven dozen of them, ranging from ACCT Agence de Coopration Culturelle et Technique to Z E P, Zones dEducation Prioritaire .) S chnepels blow-by-blow accounts of shifting alliances and political jockeying among a multitude of interest groups, major and minor political parties, and other organizations are sometimes difficult to wade through, but they make this book a singularly comprehensive and authoritative source on recent language and identity poli tics in Guadeloupe. Those with specific interests in Guadeloupe, the French Antilles, or the political and cultural aspects of language in the Caribbean more broadly should not miss this painstakingly researched study.