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.

Les anciennes sucreries coloniales et le marché haïtien (sous Boyer)

Les anciennes sucreries coloniales et le marché haïtien (sous Boyer) by Hénock Trouillot is a short read on an interesting moment that consolidated Haiti's banana republic path. As the title indicates, Trouillot's work explores the decline of Haitian sugar production during the presidency of President Boyuer. Trouillot elucidates this process through a combination of archival sources, foreign reports and accounts and newspapers to demonstrate how the lack of capital, absence of labor and poor economic policies led to Haiti's poverty and underdevelopment. 

First, the decline of the sugar industry. Despite attempts to revive Haiti's sugar production and commercial exports and promote the national industry, through initiatives like the Code Rural and immigration of African Africans, Boyer's Haiti failed on all fronts. A lack of capital plagued Haitian sucreries and the Haitian elite generally, meaning that they did not possess the capital to modernize or improve production or hire skilled workers. This favored the guildives and distilleries instead of sugar, since owners of sucreries were able to turn to producing tafia and rum for the Haitian market. According to Trouillot, this ultimately did not do much for the economy or Haitian social elevation since it favored a disproportionate consumption of alcohol. Boyer's government also helped ruin the sugar industry through tax policies that favored imported liquors and imported sugar. So, despite the Boyer government's purported interest in promoting sugar production, the government ultimately contributed to its demise. The lack of credit or limited amount of credit available to Haitians was an additional burden. 

The remainder of Trouillot's short study focuses on market, fiscal and economic policies of the Boyer years. Plans for a national bank under President Boyer did not succeed while foreigners began to overwhelmingly dominate the national economy. Although, at least on paper, prevented from owning land and, legally, limited to consignment, many of these foreigners (French, Germans, British and Americans) violated Haitian laws and regulations repeatedly. The seeds of frequent foreign involvement in Haitian coups and revolutions can already be seen in the example of Robert Sutherland, who sold arms to both Christophe and Petion during their conflicts. In other ways, the access of foreigners to capital and credit from their home countries and their ability to flout Haitian laws or find willing Haitian allies facilitated their dominance of the economy. In short, most imported goods were under their control and many were able to force or undercut Haitian competitors. Able to set prices that were ultimately passed on to the consumer, these foreigners contributed little to Haiti. Their economic importance for the state, however, could be seen in the data for years available in which recettes from imports paid by foreign consignment merchants, although contraband, speculation and overcharging ensured them a sizable profit in Haiti. Members of the Haitian government and the Haitian elite accommodated themselves to this pattern, using the state and their position or ownership of some land to benefit themselves to whatever extent possible. While some lamented the weakness of national commerce and the lack of economic power for the Haitian elite, they engaged in truly anti-national business or political actions. 

Surprisingly, Trouillot attributes the demise of the Boyer years to opposition from the very same corrupt Haitian elite that was responsible for favoring the stranglehold of foreigners on Haiti's commerce. Some of these familiar names appeared in L'Union in the 1830s and included landowning elite families, such as the Nau. These groups, joined by those in the South by 1843, succeeded in overthrowing Boyer in a movement that received popular support. For Trouillot, these anti-Boyer elites were ravenous and wanted to take advantage of the state for their own economic benefit rather than truly aim for liberal reforms of the economy or policies more favorable to the development of a national bourgeoisie. While this aspect of Trouillot's argument probably requires more evidence, it is interesting to see the way he highlighted the frequent fires that broke out in Port-au-Prince that targeted commercial houses, perhaps an indication of popular discontent and resentment of the foreign-dominated economy and the state that established this. Of course, the 1825 agreement to indemnify France for recognition and the formation of the "double debt" contributed to this downward path for Haiti, which became even more fully enmeshed in the economic imperialism of the Western powers. 

Henri Christophe's Government

Hénock Trouillot's Le gouvernement du roi Henri Christophe offers a broad overview of the kingdom of Haiti under Henri Christophe. Based on archival sources, newspaper accounts written in the Republic to the South, and the descriptions of travelers and writers like Dumesle, Trouillot endeavored to reconstruct the history of Christophe's state. Recognizing that most of our writings on Christophe from the Republic were authored by ideological and political opponents of the kingdom, Trouillot attempted to offer a balanced assessment of Christophe's government. Instead of seeing him as a bloodthirsty tyrant, Christophe's state was a totalitarianism avant la lettre which sought to build a modern black nation through a strong economy and well-ordered polity. One sees this through Christophe's fortifications and national defense policy, protection of national commerce and promotion of Haitian industry and labor, and economic, educational and political policies that regulated social life while creating clear hierarchies in which the rights of the cultivateur were, at least on paper, protected. 

Due to Trouillot's desire to shed a more positive light on Christophe's kingdom, one can see how every policy pursued by Christophe, even before the death of Dessalines, was connected to establishing a firm foundation for a wealthy, civilized, and well-defended state. Surrounded by slaveholding powers in a hostile world, Christophe, like Toussaint and Dessalines, believed the island's fate lied in reestablishing agriculture and industry. Christophe accomplished this with a system in which the large estates were preserved and distributed to a nobility appointed by him. Paying 1/4 of the proceeds of the estates to the state and 1/4 to the laborers, Christophe instituted a system of taxation and strict controls to ensure the recipients of land grants performed their duty of producing sugar, coffee, and other exports. Christophe's state relied on the military and police to ensure the laborers did not leave the estates without permission, too. However, the laborers were, at least in theory, the recipients had access to government redress in cases of exploitation. In addition, Christophe's state was wealthy. The successful system of production adopted in the kingdom, based on that of the earlier system used by Dessalines, Toussaint and Sonthonax, left about 30 million gourdes in the state treasury. This wealth came from sound economic policies and a system of land tenure in which the state was ever-ready to ensure consistent production and pursue international trade (most favorably with Britain). 

In addition to Christophe's system of land administration, he promoted national industry and commerce. Christophe spent dearly for foreign teachers, artisans, expertise and technicians to train local Haitians. His educational policy, which appears to have still been in a limited form by the time of his death in 1820, included an ambitious program that would have, if he had the time, probably reached all corners of the state. Nonetheless, his policies did succeed in promoting the training of a cadre of Haitian artisans and technicians. Indeed, even what at first seems like a waste of funds on Christophe's fine palaces, chateaux and monuments, was actually an expenditure that mostly employed Haitian labor and artisans. This further encouraged the development of Haitian skilled labor while also ensuring that the appointed nobility would also employ or seek the services of Haitian skilled laborers on their own projects. Christophe's success in this regard, combined with the success of higher agricultural production, ensured his state was far wealthier than the southern republic. One can see how his lavish palaces and monuments were spent in ways that could support local industry and the development of a local economy.

Sadly, the lack of additional sources, particularly on taxation and imports and exports, prohibits a deeper understanding of Christophean state's political economy. Nonetheless, with what has survived and made it into the Haitian National Archives, Trouillot's analysis affirms the kingdom's economic wealth. It was exactly the type of state which, despite its internal problems (the use of forced labor, the limitations on the movement of cultivateurs and the attempts to prohibit Vodou) was likely to build and consolidate a strong nation-state in a sea of hostile powers. Unlike the republic to the south, Christophe's kingdom was a centralized administration in which the state played a direct role in nearly every area. Christophe's success could be seen in that his treasury contained an estimated 30 million gourdes when he died, with most of it looted and pillaged by his disloyal subjects, leaving only an estimated 9 million for Boyer's government (according to Trouillot). His grandiose vision had even included a plan to recruit 40,000 African recaptives through negotiations with the British, presumably using these Africans to supplement his army. This was a brilliant strategy that, if there had been sufficient time, could have helped save Christophe from the rebels who pushed him to commit suicide. Lamentably, Christophe's regime perished and a reunified Haiti, under Boyer, agreed to the onerous indemnification of France.

Eugene Aubin and Vodou

Eugene Aubin's En Haïti; planteurs d'autrefois, nègres d'aujourd'hui is quite valuable for its portrayal of Haitian Vodou of the early 20th century. Although Aubin's experience at hounfort and with Vodou priests and priestesses was closer to those in the plains and other regions near Port-au-Prince, his observations and conversations with Vodouisants provide some interesting insights on the religion. This is so in spite of Aubin's view of Vodou as a resurgence of African superstition. Regardless of Aubin's own biases, there's a useful account of the various lwa here and some of their attributes. For instance, the association of Saugo with lightning (probably Shango), or characteristics of Ogou, Loko, Legba, Agwe, Dambala, and other lwa appear in Aubin's travelogue. Furthermore, practices of pilgrimage in Vodou and Catholic elements with the use of prayers, chromolithographs of saints, and the fusion of Vodou and Catholic features in centers of Marian devotion were already deeply established. 

One valuable revelation from Aubin's account is the still strong distinction between papaloi and houngan. The houngan, according to Aubin, was still more akin to a sorcerer or the modern bocor. That said, Vodou was still, when Aubin traveled through Haiti, based in the family. The head of the family was the one who led the group in the service to ancestors, particularly through the manger-ignames ceremonies. Nonetheless, the greater wealth in the plains and the rise of papaloi whose services were purchased (for hundreds of gourdes, depending on the service) from clients drawn from Port-au-Prince and the countryside attests to the development of temples, extended networks, and more elaborate hounfort featuring a combination of various rites (Arada, Congo, etc). Clearly, by this date, the papaloi-houngan distinction was losing some of its significance.

One finds this development in Aubin's discussion of some of the prominent papaloi and manbo he met or heard of in Haiti. For instance, Romulus Jacques, or Aisse, a reputable Vodou priest from la Petite Plaine near the capital, came from a family of Vodou priests, was a renowned papaloi who followed the Arada rite. Serving Dambala, Agwe, Ogou Badagry, and Loco, his temple had an inscription referring to Roi d'Engole. So, there was some hint of "Congo" connections from his temple. Moreover, Aubin found old coins at Aisse's temple left for the lwa, which included coinage from the late 18th century as well as Haitian currency from the presidency of Boyer. This amazing mix of coinage from over a century ago could be an indicator of the age of the hounfort. If so, Aisse's temple may have begun with someone in his family from the beginning of Haitian independence.

Another renowned Vodou priest, Manbo Zera Vieux, was also consulted in Port-au-Prince and in L'eau de Cazeau. She was married to a military man who was the son of Cadeau Bois, the head of a hounfort on the road to Petionville.  Aurelien Bernard, another respected papaloi, was based at du Mornay-Laboule. Both of his parents were Vodou priests and he observed both the Guinee and Congo rites, each rite with a separate section. Part of his Congo ritual practices involved pacquet Congos and the use of Catholic chromolithographs. Besides these, a manbo named Tela from the Bellot family of habitation Le Francois was also well-known. Her father was a houngan and the family held 2 temples, one dedicated to the Arada rites and Dambala and another for Congo and Nago rites. Clearly, by this time, Vodou prominent religious leaders held sufficient knowledge of a number of rites of Central African and West African origins. These aforementioned leaders came from families of manbos and papalois, yet notice how, per Aubin, their services were sought by a far-ranging clientele and their services could cost hundreds of gourdes. 

As part of the growing specialization of Vodou religion, Aubin additionally noted some of the other politically connected papalois. One, a Durolien of Croix-des-Missions, was the papaloi of President Hyppolite. Ti-Plaisir of Mariani, or Plaisimond, was another Vodou leader with significant economic resources and political connections. Indeed, a picture of his houmfort is featured in Aubin's book. It's painted exterior and the wealth of its leader must have made it a more impressive temple than smaller temples or family-centered cult spaces in the hills. Indeed, Ti-Plaisir's service in honor of Agwe included a large procession with hounsis and others. This type of elaborate service with drapeau, societies and titles, hefty fees for services, and political connections at the Presidential Palace attest to the high status of Ti-Plaisir. Indeed, Ti-Plaisir was considered by Milo Rigaud to be one of the famous papaloi, fictionalizing his life for a character in his novel thinly based on Haiti under Borno. 

Religion and Politics in Haiti

A collection of 2 essays by Harold Courlander and Remy Bastien, published as Religion and Politics in Haiti in 1966, presents an interesting moment in the study of Vodou and politics. Written at a time of economic malaise and authoritarian rule by Papa Doc, both Courlander and Bastien present Vodou in a provocative fashion. To Courlander, whose studies of Haiti always struck us as superficial, Vodou is not to be blamed for the woes of Haiti. Indeed, Vodou was actually something that represented a complete worldview and ethos for the Haitian masses. Due to the extreme poverty and precariousness of life for the Haitian peasant, Vodou offered something lacking in Catholicism and it continued to play such a pivotal role due to ongoing governmental neglect, incompetence, and exploitation. 

Bastien, a Haitian, offered a more extreme position. Indeed, Bastien went as far as accusing the Haitian ethnological movement of a trahison des clercs. Instead of dedicating themselves to the betterment of their illiterate brothers trapped in backwards, regressive living conditions and a magico-religious worldview disconnected from modernity, the Haitian intellectual sought to make Vodou (and folklore) the pillar of Haitian identity and authenticity. According to Bastien, these Haitian intellectuals, followers of the school of Price-Mars, lacked the brakes necessary to stop their extremism. So, unlike the situation in sub-Saharan Africa, the Haitian ethnologists took things too far and neglected their ultimate responsibility of ameliorating conditions for the Haitian peasantry. 

Of course, Bastien's brief essay is excessive itself, especially in light of the writings of Haitian ethnologists like Price-Mars which directly concerned social inequality and the failure of Haiti's elite. However, one can also see the justness of Bastien's critique at a time when Vodou had become another institution corrupted or controlled by Francois Duvalier. By 1966, at least in Bastien's eyes, Vodou had become part of the oppressive panoply of Duvalierism's toolbox of administration. Furthermore, Vodou was incompatible with the types of modern change, education, healthcare, and poverty eradication that Bastien believed was necessary. No houngan would sponsor or support these aforementioned reforms since their achievement would, in Bastien's perspective, defeat the purpose of the houngan's existence in the first place. This characterization of the houngan is unfair, or at least lacking the evidence for such a broad generalization. Nonetheless, the Haitian religion was, by then, a product of long-term marginalization and growing impoverishment of the Haitian. Consequently, Vodou reflected those regressive conditions of living and would be threatened by progressive changes in the Haitian countryside. Indeed, the Vodou of 1966 or even 1915 was far from the conditions of 1791. Instead of fetishizing folklore and Vodou, Haiti's intellectuals should have devoted themselves more passionately to the question of bringing the peasantry into the 20th century.

Voodoo and Politics in Haiti

Papa Legba

Michel Laguerre's Voodoo and Politics in Haiti is one of the more interesting studies of the intersection of Haitian Vodou and politics that warrants a follow up, perhaps with greater historical detail and a chapter on Vodou and politics in the 21st century. Beginning with the colonial era and the role of Vodou in sustaining and providing a meeting ground for enslaved people to interact and plot the eventual liberation of the colony, Laguerre argues persuasively for the importance of colonial-era Vodou (or Vodous, given the great religious diversity of African captives in the 18th century). The rest of the book consists of chapters exploring marronage, secret societies, pilgrimage to Saut D'Eau in its folk Catholic and Vodou dimensions, the Duvalierisation of Vodou, and the necessity for the Haitian government to commission a study into Vodou and provide some of the basic protections to the populace so that secret societies are less necessary. 

As a reflection of the religious and spiritual values of the Africans, and something understood by colonial authorities as a threat to the security of Saint Domingue, Vodou, and the related phenomenon of marronage (but one wonders if the Bahoruco maroons really did interact with Indians if, by the time of large-scale French slave trading to the island, there were probably not indigenes around outside of the Creolized, Spanish-speaking colony's population), are presented as revolutionary. Due to the limited Christian evangelization in the colony and the huge demographic transformation as Saint Domingue became a slave colony with blacks vastly outnumbering the French, Vodou and marronage became even greater threats to the established order. The connection to maroons is also made explicit by the detailed use of archival and other written sources that attest to the frequency of religious leaders as heads of maroon bands. Likewise, the Vodou or religious leaders were significant among the slaves on the estates, too. By continuing to preserve and practice values that were in opposition to those of the French and providing a space for slaves and maroons of different backgrounds to congregate, it is no surprise that Vodou leaders were also vital during the Haitian Revolution itself. 

The period after Haitian independence, however, does not receive the same kind of detail. While mention of the occasional persecution of Vodou practices by various Haitian governments appears in the text, the full history of the relationship between the state and the "Voodoo church" is not explored. Undoubtedly, Vodou and some of its priests were consulted by different heads of state and other politicians skillfully exploited or observed Vodou practices for popular appeal and control. For instance, President Salomon is cited as an example of a Haitian president who consulted a Vodou priestess and was a believer. Others made donations to temples and even before Duvalier, surely endeavored to tap into the network of Vodou temples. But the necessity of presenting Haiti as a civilized state to the rest of the world, anti-Vodou crusades of the Catholic Church, and the Western cultural orientation of Haiti's elite (both black and mulatto) ensured that the state either ignored, persecuted or never officially recognized Vodou as a religion. Surely, the full history of how Vodou was an influence on the Haitian state before Duvalier remains an importance question, particularly for administrations of leaders such as Soulouque, Antoine Simon, Salomon, Nord Alexis, Hyppolite, and others. Vodou was also very much a part of the ongoing resistance of the masses to abusive or exploitative authorities through the piquet uprisings (those black anarchists, to paraphrase one source) and the caco resistance to the US Occupation. 

Unsurprisingly, the masses continued to consult their Vodou leaders and further developed the related secret societies, such as the Bizango (named after the Bissagot). Secret societies such as the Bizango operated like a government, providing a measure of security and protection to members against rival Vodou communities or even defending the land and property of peasants in their jurisdiction from avaricious elites or the civil authorities. Amazingly, secret societies like Bizango even issued passports for their members and adopted or adapted titles that display the political history of Haiti. Although the actions and operations of secret societies, which were an outgrowth of colonial-era maroon communities and Vodou, sometimes pursued actions that a modern state would not approve of, Laguerre adopts a reasonable approach that sees their presence as ongoing and necessary in a Haiti without a central government capable of providing the same degree of security to its membership. 

Where Laguerre's study exceptionally shines is the chapters on Saut D'Eau and the "Voodoo church" under the Duvalier dictatorship. Saut D'Eau, first developing as a pilgrimage site due to Fortune Morose seeing the Virgin Mary near today's Ville-Bonheur, was clearly linked to the Soulouque administration's search for a new pilgrimage site and further legitimation for his coronation. Furthermore, the separation of the Dominican Republic made Haitian pilgrimage to Higuey more difficult. Thus, the convenience of developing a pilgrimage site within Haiti itself and one that could be adroitly exploited by Soulouque to justify declaring himself emperor made it more likely for Saut D'Eau to become an important territory in Haiti's spiritual map. In addition, Soulouque, who earlier tried to use apparitions of the Virgin in Port-au-Prince, may have been influenced by the type of popular devotion to the Virgin Mary that was already evident in the band of Romaine the Prophetess as well as Frere Joseph among the piquets. These two religious leaders, one from the era of the Haitian Revolution and the other part of the piquets, both drew upon the Virgin Mary for spiritual succor and justification of their causes. Laguerre does not go into any detail here, but this suggests that the cult of the Virgin Mary was already of some significance in Haitian popular Catholicism and folk belief. Soulouque, by seeking to align himself with it, was able to exploit popular beliefs derived from Catholicism as well as Vodou practices.

Laguerre's real contribution of a detailed overview of pilgrimage at Saut 'Deau is revealing. Damballah, Ayida Wedo, and the Virgin Mary share the space in a characteristically Haitian fashion. The "Voodooists" collect donations, give alms, congregate at the sites associated with Damballah and Ayida Wedo, and will even pay for masses. Other pilgrims focus on the Catholic Church, attending services, giving alms, visiting the area near the tree the Virgin first appeared at, fulfilling vows, and asking for the intercession of Mary. The Catholics and Vodouizan both believe the site is holy and seek miracles, cures, or use the pilgrimage as an opportunity for building community, relationships, or aiding the less fortunate. Residents of Saut D'Eau benefit from the pilgrims renting homes and buying local goods. The gamblers, prostitutes and mendicants congregate in the area to make money, too. Pilgrims coming for spiritual reasons also benefit, or believe they do. Those coming from the same village or town travel together, strengthening bonds and representing friends and family at Saut D'Eau. Ultimately, the pilgrimage tradition affirms the status quo and has been used by Haitian leaders, who send donations, to sustain popular legitimacy. Nonetheless, Saut D'Eau's history and the cult of the Virgin Mary in Haiti can have an anti-establishment dimension.

The other gem in Laguerre's study is the chapter on Vodou and the Duvalier regime. While the Duvaliers, especially Francois, is often remembered as an ethnologist and someone who exploited Vodou for political purposes, Laguerre's explanation of how the regime actually accomplished that is revelatory. Instead of viewing Vodou as completely decentralized, Laguerre argues that it is better to understand Vodou temples as networks. These networks come in different forms, but basically point the prominence of houngans or manbos of central temples which also possess satellites. The satellite temples may not always follow the leadership and guidance of central ones, but they usually do because the central temple may have been led by priests who trained the satellite temple priests. A shrewd politician who understands this could, therefore, increase their political power by focusing on exploiting the priests of central temples. These central temple leaders then, as macoutes, beneficiaries of Duvalier's government, and spies, could greatly increase the likelihood of Duvalier winning more votes or neutralizing centers of opposition. 

The Vodou priests who went along with this process were allowed to continue their practices (although some allegedly incorporated Francois Duvalier himself as a lwa) and, as Tonton Macoutes, protect their own temple network from others while also exploiting their position for status and power. This role of the Vodou priest as a broker, especially in electoral politics, made identifying, coopting, or enforcing the cooperation of central temples a key pillar in the Duvalier regime's rise and longevity. Thus, even though Duvalier himself may have not been a practitioner of Vodou and never gave the "Voodoo church" official status, he (or those in his administration) knew how to "Duvalierize" Vodou as one of the major institutions of the country. Like the Catholic Church and other institutions, the Duvalier dictatorship exploited their understanding of Vodou and Haitian social structure to weaken or eliminate sources of opposition in all corners. It was not his mystical power per se that made this happen, although Duvalier undoubtedly understood how to use that for political ends, that was the basis for Vodou's politicization. Understanding how Duvalier excelled at this to a greater extent than past Haitian political regimes is one of the key elements of the dictatorship. Surely, as admitted by Laguerre, Francois Duvalier's sour relations with the Catholic Church and the ideological currents underpinning noirist and ethnological schools of thought provided a context for this. But how did this process work in rural Haiti, where Laguerre's direct evidence is slighter than that of Port-au-Prince?

Acaau of Les Cayes

Although we were hoping to trace the roots of the Piquet leader, Acaau, deeper into the colonial era or back to Africa, we did find a few instances in which his name appeared in the civil registry of Les Cayes, available at the Family Search site. According to the above document, registering the birth of a fille naturelle in the 1830s, Acaau was already a sous-lieutenant of the district's rural police. This position must have prepared him well for his future role as a leader of the rural population in the area in the 1840s. He was already known and had some authority. 

From another birth record for Acaau's child, we learn he had a brother, Gil Acaau. Unfortunately, I was unable to find any Caroline Acaau, but the birth records at least tell us that the famous leader had a brother. According to Madiou, Acaau was literate, which one can see in the signature in one of the birth records. Either way, it is interesting to have a very limited glimpse of Acaau before his (in)famous movement in the 1840s.