Zagada

Source

After reading Geggus's essay on "Kongomania" and seeing his reference to one of the few known African leaders in the North during the early days of the Haitian Revolution, we had to consult ANOM's digitized collection of Moreau de Saint-Méry's papers. Geggus briefly mentioned Zagada as the leader of a band of Aradas and Aoussas (Hausas), but based on his name, we wondered if he was possibly Hausa. Well, after consulting ANOM, we found the source cited by Geggus, a 1792 letter addressed to Moreau de Saint-Méry. According to the document, Zagada's band of rebels were armed with arrows, which is not too surprising. But the combination of Aradas and Aoussas is interesting, since another leader of a band of rebels, La Fortune, was said to lead a group of Nagos (Yorubas) in Limonade. Our guess is that Zagada was Hausa, although we would have to consult the names of various groups sometimes lumped into the "Zagada" category in order to confirm it. 

State and Nation in Haiti's First Half-Century

One of the more rewarding readings of the end of 2024 has been Le Culte de l'égalité: une exploration du processus de formation de l'État et de la politique populaire en Haïti au cours de la première moitié du dix-neuvième siècle (1804-1846) by Jean Alix René. René's study really challenges us to rethink the relationship between the early state in postcolonial Haiti and its relationship with the rural majority. Instead of, say, adopting the theory of postcolonial Haiti as a maroon state, a more accurate way of looking at it may have been one in which cultivateurs and peasants viewed the state as a legitimate source of protection and an aid in their search for justice. If, as René suggests, the early Haitian state and early constitutions were based on the idea of protection of the governed and a fraternity of suffering based on the racial discrimination, slavery and colonialism in which all Haitians were at least partly affected by, then the state could occasionally be seen as a force in which subaltern groups sought redress, respect, honor, and dignity. We, unfortunately, are not doing justice to all the nuances of this important study, but its implications are quite suggestive. Drawing on various archival sources, including petitions from subaltern groups, governments acts and proclamations, Haitian constitutions, and the press, this other dimension of the state's relations with the nation are more nuanced. 

Of course, as various scholars have argued (Trouillot, Gonzalez, Barthelemy, etc.), the state during the Haitian Revolution and after 1804 sought to limit the extension of smallholder property, the partition of estates, and, at times, even the movement of cultivateurs. According to the author, Dessalines tried to build a Haitian economy based on state control of production through the leasing of habitations for 5 year terms and usage of the military to police or control cultivateurs and limit squatting. However, he faced the problem of both soldiers and cultivateurs resisting his state plans. The emergence of the de moitié system itself was at least partly motivated by the cultivators themselves, who chose to either sharecrop, engage in logging, squat on lands, or, later on, purchase small parcels from the recipients of land under Petion. On the other hand, practices that dated from marronage in the colonial period and forms of resistance among cultivateurs during the Revolution, some Haitians (soldiers and cultivateurs) formed runaway communities that Christophe and others endeavored to crush during the early years of Haitian independence. 

Under Petion, however, relations between state and nation took a different path. Petion's agrarian policy of land concessions or grants and preference for la douceur to gradually change or influence Haitians of the lower classes, appears to have strengthened bonds between the state and its rural majority. While still basing itself on protection, Petion also sought to use land grants and more subtle methods to encourage the cultivation of export crops while also rejecting measures like forced placements of cultivateurs. Moreover, it would appear that Manigat was incorrect when he posited the importance of the commercial oligarchy in Petion's decision to concede small properties in 1809. That Petion's change in policy was at least somewhat effective and supported by the rural majority, one notes how it roused desertions from Goman's rebel state in the South. Although not stated in the study of René, one imagines that Petion's agrarian policies were also contributing factors for the flight of Haitians from Christophe's kingdom to the Republic. But for deeper, specific case studies, René cites the case of Cupidon Guillotte, an African-born former slave whose 1828 petition may represent how peasants viewed or conceived of the state. The petition emphasizes the role of the government as a protector and one in which the peasants saw state power as a source for legitimacy of smallholders. Naturally, this process during the tenure of Petion was not the benevolence of a magnanimous president, but a result of years of peasant and cultivateur resistance and the conflicts with Christophe in the North.

Unfortunately, the more positive aspects of Petion's policies, which still sought to exclude the masses, were magnified by President Boyer. Jean-Pierre Boyer would, as early as 1818, restore corvee labor. He also agreed to the horrible conditions of the 1825 indemnity to France, despite vociferously opposing it in 1814. Boyer similarly excluded cultivateurs from juries, national guard gatherings, and, most infamously, promulgated the Code Rural. Seen by René as the most systematic attempt to control the labor of the rural population of Haiti, through domination, coercion and force, Boyer still failed due to resistance from the peasantry and some of the local and provincial government officials or military officers. Yet even as Boyer sought to exclude the rural majority and control their labor, Haitians continued to petition the state for justice. This identification with the state emerges more clearly with the peasant revolt in the South in the 1840s. Led by peasant smallholders rather than the landless, this middling group, influenced by the liberals who held banquets with peasants in 1842 and overthrew Boyer in 1843, went even further by demanding education for their children, an end to exclusionary practices, and participation in the formal political process. 

Although the peasant revolution only lasted a short time, the proclamations of Acaau and other sources fascinatingly point to the ways in which the peasantry drew on the legacy of the Haitian Revolution and relations with the state, demanding participation rather than isolation. Alas, the resistance of the elites prevented this from fully occurring, while occasional peasant rebellions and use of violence did open some positions in government to some peasants. The tragedy seen in the failure of the Piquets nonetheless lingered, as the "nation" was still largely excluded by the state. Hopefully, future scholarship revisits the themes raised by  René for the second half of Haiti, in the 19th century. 

Exploring Igbo and African Ancestry

Roseline Siguret's tabulation of African slave "nations" in the Quaarter of Jacmel (from "Esclaves d'indigoteries et de caféières au quartier de Jacmel (1757-1791)"

After reading FonteFelipe's recent blog on African ancestry and matches of his sample of 30 Haitians, we decided to reexamine our own African matches on Ancestry. Unfortunately, we could only find 2 obvious African matches, both Igbo-descended individuals. With one of them we share 23 cM of DNA. Our Haitian parent, who, unsurprisingly, has more African ancestry, shared 29 cM with the same Igbo individual. In addition, they also had African matches who, based on their surnames and publicly posted genealogies, hailed from Mali, Congo, Nigeria, and what appears to be Sierra Leone. The known ethnic breakdown is Igbo, Yoruba, and Mandinka. We could not easily determine the ethnic background of the other Africans. Needless to say, our Haitian parent's African matches were usually of a low degree of shared cM of DNA, 8-16. Her ethnicity estimates assigned 1% Yorubaland, 2% Nigeria-North Central and 2% Nigerian Woodlands (in addition to Mali, Senegal, Ivory Coast & Ghana, Benin & Togo, Cameroon, Western Bantu Peoples). She received a whopping 27% Benin & Togo and 21% Nigeria in the latest update. While there are many problems with her results in the update (her European ancestry is assigned mostly to Spain, even though her previous results assigned the largest European percentage to France), looking at her African matches does suggest some generally useful information on Haitian ancestry. The preponderance of Nigerian matches is likely a reflection of the greater number of Nigerian customers of Ancestry as well as the deep ancestry of Haitians in Nigeria, Benin & Togo and neighboring areas that supplied many of the African captives enslaved in Saint-Domingue. Here is a table breakdown illustrating her matches:

After her match with one Igbo person at 29 cM shared DNA, the next closest match was at 16 cM with someone bearing a Yoruba name. As suggested by FonteFelipe and the work of scholars such as Geggus, there clearly was a larger presence of Igbo and people from the Bight of Biafra in Saint-Domingue's south (which included Jacmel, in the calculations of Geggus). This noticeable Igbo presence is attested to by plantation inventories, testaments, and other contracts mentioning the enslaved population in 18th century Bainet. After Creoles, Igbos were one of the most common groups. The Yoruba ancestry and related Benin/Togo is possibly, in part, represented by the large Creole population among the slaves in Bainet during the second half of the 18th century. Many of the Creoles were likely the children of people who were purchased from the Slave Coast, which would have included various groups represented in Saint-Domingue (like the "Aradas"). This also could have accounted for the "Senegalese" results in our parent's ethnicity estimates. After all, if Senegal was important early on in the French slave trade, then some of the Creoles may have harbored ancestry from Senegambia. As for Mali connection, we assume this to be a sign of ancestry from "Mandingues" and, perhaps, Bambara, in Saint-Domingue. The Bambara would have reached Saint-Domingue through slave trading networks in Senegal, as was likely the case for "Mandingues" who may have not always been clearly distinguished from the Bambara. Interestingly, the Bamana were present among the enslaved in Bainet and one of them played a prominent role during the Haitian Revolution in the Sud (Gilles Bambara). 

Sadly, without more data from African customers or better ethnicity estimate information on African reference panel groups (such as directly telling us which ones we share DNA with), we are still left with only a general picture. Nonetheless, the Igbo contribution to our African ancestry seems very likely based on our shared DNA with one Igbo family. Furthermore, it seems our African ancestry probably includes Mandinka or Malinke (and Bambara?) ancestry as well as Yoruba. To some extent there was undoubtedly a Congolese or Central African contribution, though "Congos" in Bainet could have included Mondongues, Loango, Kongo, and others. As for "Senegal" and areas like Nigeria-North Central, we assume that could be Hausa and Wolof or Fulbe ancestry. Perhaps the "Senegal" and Mali ancestry is slightly inflated by Poulard or Fula, while Nigeria-North Central is from the Hausa or another another northern Nigerian population whose name was not recognized or used in Saint-Domingue. There definitely was a small flow of captives from northern Nigeria, but usually of Hausa or Nupe origin in Saint-Domingue's nomenclature for African "nations." 

René Depestre: A Life in Movement

Arnold Antonin's René Depestre: On ne rate pas une vie éternelle is a fascinating documentary. Perhaps one of his better projects, this one benefits from extensive interview footage with Depestre himself. A compelling speaker and one who has experienced much of the major movements of the post-WWII years, Depestre explains his life and work in the context of literature, politics and exile. Since is nearly 100 years old, each chapter of Depestre's long life receives section of the story, beginning with his Jacmelian childhood. Depestre's adventures in Europe, both in France and behind the Iron Curtain, plus his travels in Latin America and the "Global South" demonstrate his place and contributions to Communist, anti-colonial, and literary movements.

While the film could have benefited from including more interviews with people who know Depestre in Cuba, Haiti and Europe, especially those who could have added another perspective on Depestre's Cuban period, Antonin's documentary includes the testimony and interviews with Haitians like Suzy Castor, Michel Hector, and Pierre Buteau to furnish more historical context or additional perspectives. Antonin seamlessly fuses Depestre's poetry with the film, too, giving the viewer several opportunities to appreciate Depestre's literary work or maybe encounter poems they may not be familiar with. Nonetheless, to better corroborate some of Depestre's claims about, for instance, the Padilla Affair, or to dig deeper into his polemic with Alexis and the intricacies of the Haitian Left's internal conflicts, this documentary would have required interviewing far more people (many of whom are, alas, probably deceased). Without this additional context and other perspectives, we are relying almost entirely on Depestre himself, whose political and personal biases may have occluded or omitted aspects of his political career or activities.

In spite of these problems, it is excellent to hear Depestre's story "straight from the horse's mouth." The struggles of his seamstress mother, his youthful political activities with La Ruche, or the incredibly tense interview with Francois Duvalier are engaging episodes of his life. To think he could have been "domesticated" by the Duvalier regime with an offer of a diplomatic post is frightening, yet illustrates how shrewd and cunning Duvalier was. The unsavory experiences in today's Czech Republic were another early indication of political danger for Depestre whilst Cuba, perhaps the most interesting chapter, is seen as a disappointment after the Padilla Affair. Depestre, however, saw something worthwhile and beautiful in the Cuban Revolution and the way it brought together so many intellectuals, writers, and activists. His quip about Fidel and Che being like Don Quixote was also quite amusing, and perhaps tragically accurate. A biography of Depestre is simply a must. 

Dram Zafra

Joel Lorquet's Dram Zafra was another one of his socially conscious graphic novels on an important topic or theme of modern Haiti. In this case, Haitian braceros who cut sugarcane in the Dominican Republic, but also touching upon other themes like migration and exploitation. Like his other comics, this one features some interesting storytelling but underdeveloped art. That said, this short work, through telling the tale of 3 Haitian men who go cut cane in the DR to escape misery but only find more suffering and deprivation, is emotionally powerful. One of the 3 men dies in the Dominican Republic, another loses an arm for sleeping with a married Dominican woman, and the third, Murat, is imprisoned for entering the Dominican Republic illegally. The two survivors who eventually make it back to Haiti, one via a prison escape and the other after 6 months of living in the batey, return to their old lives with new ideas and conceptions of their experience abroad. Indeed, one, Murat, connects the bracero system to slavery while the armless Jean-Orius opens a boutique or shop. It is a shame Lorquet did not continue to write and illustrate stories in Haitian Creole. If his work was written in the standard Haitian Creole orthography and he was open to new genres, perhaps more Haitians would have followed in his footsteps and Haiti would have developed better comics. Nonetheless, Lorquet's socially relevant work addresses major issues Haiti faced during the 1980s while attempting to show the dignity of poorer Haitians. 

Petion's Republic and the Haitian People

La République de Pétion et le peuple haïtien by Hénock Trouillot is important to read when considering Trouillot as a historian of early Haiti. Juxtaposed with his study of the government of Henri Christophe, Trouillot establishes, quite convincingly, how the model of a modern state was more likely to be achieved under the northern king than the republican government in the South and West. Unlike Christophe, whose state was more successful at maintaining large-scale plantation production and ensuring the state possessed significant reserves, the southern republic was cash-strapped, lawless or crime-filled in the capital, notably corrupt, and delivered the economy of the country into the hands of foreign merchants. Christophe's state, which inherited some of the the practices of Toussaint Louverture and the Dessalinien Empire, was more successful at protecting national commerce and industry and was, if given the time, more likely to lead to a stronger state.

Unfortunately, Petion's republic became the model for Haiti after the reunification under President Boyer. Even though Boyer himself had to repudiate or distance himself from some of his predecessor's actions, the mold was already cast. Thus, the regular abuse of power by the executive against the legislative branch and Petion's intervention in the courts was inherited by subsequent presidents. In addition, the incompetence of Petion during his war with Christophe helped ensure the fall of General Lamarre. Deficits, corruption, mishandling of government revenues, and politicians or functionaries cheating the state were regular affairs that sadly plague Haiti to this day. Even Petion himself encouraged the production of counterfeit Haitian currency as his administration looked the other way as Pigny, the director of the Hotel de la Monnaie, enriched himself by printing extra cash and the government accepted counterfeit money at a percentage of its value. 

Petion's republic embraced liberalism to detrimental consequences, too. For instance, his republic weakened national commerce by ending many of the protections of Dessalines and the state's role in commerce, ultimately favoring foreign merchants with access to capital, credit and international markets. Some examples of foreign merchants who enriched themselves during this time included the Frenchman Frederic Martin, who violated laws and received special treatment due to his friendship and partnership with the Bonnets. These foreign merchants often sold on credit to detaillants, who were often women (wives or mistresses of prominent Haitian functionaries or military leaders) who then resold imported goods to petite marchandes from their boutiques. This system, however, led to greater dependence on foreigners (French, English, German and American) who had access to credit, capital, and wielded a great influence on the commerce of the nation. Even attempts to protect local commerce often fell short since those in the upper echelons of the republic's administration were often landowners with an interest in grand commerce that entailed partnerships with these important merchants. These same individuals, including the president were willing to look the other way when foreigners violated laws that restricted their activities. 

Even on the land question, an area in which Petion is sometimes praised for recognizing the merits of small-scale proprietorship, the reality was quite different. According to Trouillot, he actually sold or made concessions to land to upper ranks of the military while saving the best lands for high-level functionaries or himself. However, the lack of capital, absence of technicians and loss or destruction of machinery during the Haitian Revolution meant that the land was often parceled or resold multiple times. This was the beginning of the de moitie system since those who held property needed some system in which labor could be found to produce something for export or national markets. However, it was not necessarily the intent of the president to provide land directly to the cultivateurs on a large scale, nor was his government able to protect them from the abuses of the corvee system or even from beatings by their employer. Indeed, even soldiers were sometimes forced to work on lands owned by their superior officers! What often occurred was a type of serfdom for the cultivateurs, especially when landowners were high-ranking functionaries or military generals with the means to abuse the corvee system or their power to exploit the cultivateurs who received little or no pay or medical benefits from their de moitie contracts. 

What about the population of Haiti? Sadly, Trouillot's sources did not allow him to delve deeply into this matter. However, Petion was, through demagogy, a popular ruler. He regularly gave alms to the poor during national celebrations and, perhaps due to his fears of sparking disturbances because of the color question, he went out of his way to treat noirs well (or at least that's what some sources suggest). Nonetheless, despite his popularity, popular discontent and hostility directed against the French was palpable. Disorder, theft, and anti-French violence in Port-au-Prince were common enough to spark fears among some of the foreign merchant colonies in the capital. Likewise, even the dance societies (tied to Carnaval?) which included titles like president, king, queen and general for their leadership sparked fears of political disorder and revolts. The fact that the government expressed fears of the masses i the city and the ongoing revolt of Goman in the South was never defeated by Petion suggest the masses reacted to Petion with overt and covert resistance. The crimes targeting the goods of foreign merchants and the French, for instance, were undoubtedly a reflection of the populace's anti-French sentiments and fear of a European takeover or invasion. Similarly, Goman's state lasting so long in the Sud showed the appeal of his movement to people in that region as well as its ability to establish a functional community with agricultural exports to Christophe and abroad to furnish itself with weapons and ammunitions. Whether or not a noir had tried to assassinate right before Petion's death is unclear, but the fears of the French that a massacre of the "mulattoes" or themselves was possible in the transition to Boyer's government definitely points to the republic's instability and weakness. Petion, in short, failed to establish stable institutions while encouraging the state against nation paradigm so expertly elucidated by Trouillot's nephew. 

L'administration de Jacmel en 1845

Maurice Lubin's L'administration de Jacmel en 1845 is too brief to truly provide an idea of Jacmel in the 1840s, but it certainly helps. Relying on surviving government documents and reports on receiving and expenditures of the arrondissement's administration, Lubin's short publication does suggest something of Jacmel's importance in Haiti at the time. For instance, Jacmel's revenue stream included about the equivalent of 6 million in foreign currency that was sent to the central administration in Port-au-Prince. Jacmel was also frequently visited by foreign ships in 1845, including two from Venezuela. The city's military received about 52 percent of expenses, with only one single primary school funded by the government. This sorry state of affairs, including the existence of only military hospitals and no government spending on health and sanitation, demonstrates the negative impact of Haiti's overly militarized administration. Indeed, the state could not even pay respectable salaries to some of the citizens who served in the armed forces yet died in indigence and their families could not cover the costs of their funerals. So, while there was prosperity from Jacmel's coffee economy and, perhaps, the cost of living was not yet so high, the government was still spending perhaps excessively in the military. This was so even after the final recognition of Haitian independence by France, though the Western powers could still have invaded the island, necessitating a strong military.