Marxism as the Only Possible Guide to the Haitian Revolution

Le marxisme, seul guide possible de la révolution haïtienne by Jacques Stéphen Alexis is a fascinating essay defending Marxism and dialectical materialism as the foundation for the future revolution in Haiti. As part of the Parti d'Entente Populaire, Alexis fought for a national revolution that was democratic, anti-feudal, anti-imperialist, and included allies among the bourgeoisie nationale who saw that Haiti's semi-feudal conditions and the negative impact of imperialism hurt their interests. In response to critics of Marxism or those who questioned its utility as a framework for revolution, however, Alexis's essay articulates a view of Marxism and dialectical materialism that "completed" philosophy by overturning Hegelian idealism. In other words, Marxist theory and praxis were the best foundation for eventually reaching a future in which exploitation will cease. Others, who focused on the writings of a young Marx (before the maturation of Marxism) or sought answers in other schools of thought were missing the mark, according to Alexis. 

Naturally, Alexis's essay offers an outlook on how the PEP viewed itself and its ideology in the context of Haitian political parties. While certainly dogmatic and emphatic on the superiority of Marxism for a theory of society and framework for all sciences (included ethnology, which Alexis viewed as sterile in its Haitian context and guilty of a mystification of blackness), Alexis's views here also correlate well with his literary productions. For instance, his insistence on viewing Haitian culture as the fusion of Amerindian, African, and European traits can be found in his other writings. Furthermore, he also called for formal arts ad literature in Haiti be meet and engage with popular folklore and storytelling, something Alexis endeavored to do in his own short story collection,  Romancero aux étoiles. Alexis clearly sought to model what he believed was the best path forward for Haitian arts and literature through an active engagement with folklore, Vodou, and rural Haiti, even as he believed a Marxist application to the study of such phenomena will culminate in the liquidation of aspects of Vodou and superstition. But by embracing those contradictions or apparent contradictions in the making of Haitian identity and culture, something new will emerge out of Marxist engagement and study. Thus, the alienation experienced by colonized and racialized peoples like Haitians, or the contradictions and ambivalence of Haitian Creole and French, the color question, Roman Catholicism and Vodou, and Haiti's complex cultural heritage will, eventually, be unveiled through Marxist analysis and revolution.

While Alexis is a far more mature thinker here than in his youthful writings in La Ruche, one cannot help but feel that much of this is outmoded. The idea that Marxist revolution and technological improvements would eventually displace or end veneration of, say, aquatic spirits in Haitian Vodou, seems incredibly unlikely due to the survival of religion in the Soviet bloc. Likewise, one cannot help but wonder how the PEP would succeed in ushering a truly democratic revolution with the aid of the bourgeoisie nationale under the guidance of the proletariat. If segments of the Haitian bourgeoisie were unable to align with the piquets in the 19th century, how would Marxist-influenced revolutionaries make it happen when the power of the bourgeoisie nationale would have to rely on heavy exploitation of the workers to a significant degree before becoming competitive with the comprador bourgeoisie or international capital? In other words, wouldn't the Haitian bourgeoisie, already being weaker and under threat from the international capitalist system, and undermined by the comprador class and nearly 2 centuries of Haitian political economy in the interests of foreign or semi-foreign capital, have to rely on certain conditions of exploitation of the working class to reach a point where their capital could be invested in industrialization? One supposes Alexis knew this, and thus insisted that the working-class would have to exert significant control of this first step in the Haitian Revolution, to protect workers' rights and labor laws. We assume this is partly why Alexis praised Mao and the Chinese Revolution as a revolution of oppressed nations which sought to align all pro-nationalist forces and even inculcate upper classes or bourgeois allies with the belief that they should work alongside the peasantry and working classes.

Un campesino Dominicano

 

The following is an entertaining décima by Juan Antonio Alix (posted at  https://poesiadominicana.jmarcano.com/). Essentially a list of words in Haitian Creole with their Spanish equivalents, the poem is interesting from a linguistic perspective. It's also intriguing to see the manner in which Haitian Creole is written by Hispanophones. Indeed, the Dominican Spanish term for our djon-djon is apparently casabe de bruja...Even if the campesino expresses bewilderment at the Creole language, he is able to communicate enough to sell andullos. 

Un campesino dominicano

que estuvo en Haití vendiendo unos andullos y

a su regreso tuvo una entrevista muy curiosa

con el que suscribe.

(A dos amigos puertoplateños)

Del campo un dominicano 

que pasó a vender andullos, 

en dos borriquitos suyos 

a no sé qué pueblo haitiano, 

así me contó: ¡critiano 

ni Dio comprende esa gente! 

Caicule que laguaidiente 

allá le dicen tafiá, 

a lo jalitao llengá 

y penchó ai pan caliente.

Los frijole colorao 

puá rus lo llaman allá, 

a la brujería guangá 

y a lo sombrero chapao. 

Malfiní é guaraguao 

lo guandule puá congó 

Bonyé le dicen a Dio, 

a lo brujo lugarú 

y a lo jefe dei judú 

le dicen papá Bocó.

Lo memo la macarela,

la titulan macrilló

lo molondrone gombó

y difé a la candela.

A la paila o casuela

le dicen allá shodié;

a lo sapato sulié,

puesón ai peje o pecao

y en siendo el arró graniao

le dicen durí grené.

Yo andube toitico Haití

y no encontré un condenao

que dijera bacalao

sino todo la murí.

Al arró llaman durí,

a la cebolla loñón,

a lo cochino cochón.

Lo fideo vermichel

a la sal le dicen sel

y creviche ai camarón.

En siendo peje salao

le dicen puesón salé

como banan bucané

llaman ai plátano asao.

Pero siendo sancochao

le dicen banan bullí,

a la ñica saloprí

a lo sajice pimán,

lo mamone cachimán

y a lo niño anfán pití.

Al agua le dicen gló,

ai queso llaman fromalle,

una rí e juna calle

y finí que se acabó;

allí nadie dice fó

como nosotro jaquí,

cuando viene a la narí

ei bajo de aigún parrá!

el haitiano dice allá:

«¡A la peté qui santi!»

Un sancocho, e ebullón

ñon eguille es una aguja

como ei casabe de bruja

ello lo llaman llonllón.

A lo caibone charbon,

ai quitasoi, paresol,

guanábana, corosol,

ñon chandel e juna vela;

y a la maidita viruela

le dicen pití verol.

Al aceite llaman huil,

aguacate sabocá,

y a la piña ananá

como porcanel, cajuil;

allá perejil, persil,

el melao allí siró,

lo mameye, abricó,

la yuca llaman mañoc,

a lo gallo viejo coc,

y ai sapo llaman grapó.

Lo que aquí llaman letrina

por allá e cae brulé,

como si dijera uté

la casa quemada en ruina,

donde allí la chamuchina

o gente de poca nota,

entra allí y se ñengota

en un brulé o aposento,

y se despacha al momento

dejando allí su pelota.

Conque saque uté la cuenta

siño Juan Antoño Elí,

y dígame si en Haití

cuaiquiera no se revienta;

en eso de compra y benta

yo le pueo asegurai,

que si no sabe coitai

de esa gente ei lenguaraje,

ni la toitilla dei biaje

uté no la pue sacai.

Jata otro día, con su licencia.

Haitian Santo Domingo

A recent read of Andrew Walker's Strains of Unity: Emancipation, Property, and the Post-Revolutionary State in Haitian Santo Domingo, 1822-1844 was a fascinating look at the period of administrative unification under Haiti. Pushing back against some of the older tenets in the narrative of Haitian domination and invasions of the eastern half of Hispaniola, Walker's study focuses on notarial records and other archival sources which illustrate how easterners navigated Haitian law, sometimes using it in ways to further their own interests. Walker also emphasizes how this complex process of unification enshrined the "free soil" policy of the future Dominican Republic and shaped antislavery as foundational.

This begins with the interest in unification expressed by residents of center-island towns and those with interests in the livestock trade. Since the trade in livestock had been important since colonial times, and unification was seen as one way of promoting it by ending border tariffs, there was local interest in joining Haiti. Furthermore, the ephemeral independent state did not end slavery, likely fueling an interest by enslaved people (perhaps 1/5 of the population of the east)and free people of color in becoming Haitians. Once unification took place in 1822, Walker continues to use notarial records for proof of sale of livestock and horses between Haitians from the west (often soldiers or military officers stationed in the east) and easterners. This profitable trade apparently involved women from the west and other groups who engaged in this trade. 

Walker also addresses the issue of land expropriations, reforms, and the Code Rural. In the east, the Haitian state targeted holdings of ecclesiastical and municipal bodies and authorities, whilst also taking property held by absentee landholders who left the island after unification. However, residents of these lands who built bohios or properties on it were allowed to maintain ownership of their homes. Notarial records and other finds from Dominican and Haitian archives do suggest a land grab of sorts favoring upper level Haitian and eastern military leaders and civil administrators, too. But, the Code Rural in the east was apparently as unsuccessful there as it was in the west. Furthermore, the partition of land grants continued, too. This meant that many who were given large estates by the government chose to sell it in smaller parts. Enforcement of the Code Rural's anti-vagrancy laws was also a local affair, and was even utilized by peasants with fractional rights to communal lands who sought to protect their own rights to the land against unfair co-owners or squatters. Indeed, to Walker, terrenos comuneros survived Haitian unification as land rights by holders of shares in communal lands justified their ownership based on Haitian and liberal laws of private property.

Perhaps the most interesting chapter in the dissertation, however, was sadly limited by the source material. Since maritime maroons from Puerto Rico fled to eastern Hispaniola to escape slavery during this time (although some were doing this prior to Haitian unification), one sees a fascinating development of Haitian free soil applied evenly throughout the eastern part of the island. Anti-slavery and Haitian commitment to free soil was maintained in the east, even by former slaveholders. Unfortunately, not enough detail is unveiled by the sources on these 'maritime maroons' from Puerto Rico and other Caribbean islands. Nonetheless, their presence in the east illustrates how Haitian free soil concepts defined Haitian territory and later influenced Dominican anti-slavery in 1844 and beyond. 

By highlighting aspects of collaboration, shared ideology and governing practices, and the commitment to racial equality and antislavery, a different interpretation of the experience of Haitian unification (or domination) is unveiled here. This should be followed up by additional studies on language, culture, African American immigration, and conflict during the unification. Some of the historical figures from this period, like Pablo Ali (Paul Alix) deserve further study for their own complex relations to Saint Domingue/Haiti. 

On the Taino (Playing with AI)

The Taino peoples, indigenous to the Greater Antilles, have long been described as extinct, a vanished people swept away by colonization, disease, and slavery in the early 1500s. Yet, as the blog Dream Variants emphasizes, the legacies of Taino life are deeply embedded in Caribbean culture. From farming practices to language, and from mythology to modern identity politics, the Taino remain central to understanding Caribbean history and culture.

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Persistence Beyond Extinction

Colonial records and later scholarship often portrayed the Taino as disappearing by the mid-1500s. However, as Dream Variants points out, archival evidence shows that thousands of “Indios” continued to live in Hispaniola into the mid-16th century, forming hidden communities and blending into broader colonial society (Dream Variants 2023a). This survival complicates the “extinction” narrative and explains why cultural and even genetic traces of the Taino endure in modern Caribbean populations.

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Agrarian and Genetic Echoes

The persistence of Taino culture is especially visible in agrarian systems. For instance, cassava mound cultivation, a key feature of Taino subsistence, remains part of rural farming practice in parts of the Dominican Republic, Haiti, and Puerto Rico. As Dream Variants suggests, these techniques were not just practical but cultural inheritances, reflecting deep continuity with indigenous lifeways (Dream Variants 2020a). Genetic research adds further nuance: many Caribbeans today retain small but measurable traces of indigenous ancestry, confirming that survival was both cultural and biological.

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Myth, Ritual, and Expressions of Identity

Taino mythology has also left deep marks on Caribbean cultural identity. The Dream Variants blog highlights parallels between Taino myths—such as those of creation, twins, and deluge—and broader South American and Mesoamerican traditions, suggesting shared roots across Indigenous America (Dream Variants 2023b). In the present, neo-Taino movements use ritual, performance, and symbolic art to reclaim these myths and reassert indigeneity. These cultural revivals transform Taino legacies into acts of identity and resistance in postcolonial societies.

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Language and Social Structure

Taino words remain embedded in Caribbean Spanish and English: hurricane, canoe, hammock, guava, and barbecue are just a few examples. More importantly, terms like nitaino—originally describing a social rank—continue to offer insight into pre-Columbian social structures (Dream Variants 2024). Scholars and cultural activists alike emphasize that the Taino had complex social hierarchies and artistic traditions, challenging early colonial depictions of them as “simple” or “childlike” peoples.

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Conclusion

The Taino cultural legacy in the Caribbean is not confined to archaeology or museums—it is alive in farming practices, foodways, language, mythology, and cultural identity. The Dream Variants blog reminds us that while colonial violence attempted to erase the Taino, their legacies persist across time, shaping how Caribbeans understand themselves and their histories. To see the Caribbean fully is to recognize the persistence of the Taino in both memory and daily life.

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Bibliography

Dream Variants. 2020a. Brief Thoughts on Taino DNA and Cultural Continuity. October 2020. https://thedreamvariation.blogspot.com/2020/10/brief-thoughts-on-taino-dna-and.html

Dream Variants. 2023a. Taino Legacy in Hispaniola. April 2023. https://thedreamvariation.blogspot.com/2023/04/taino-legacy-in-hispaniola.html

Dream Variants. 2023b. Art, Mythology, Taino and Central America. October 2023. https://thedreamvariation.blogspot.com/2023/10/art-mythology-taino-and-central-america.html

Dream Variants. 2024. Notes on Taino Social Terms and Structures. 2024. https://thedreamvariation.blogspot.com/2024

Unveiling the Colonial System

Although it took us several years, we have finally completed Baron de Vastey's The Colonial System Unveiled. Translated into English by Chris Bongie, whose useful endnotes and supplementary essays are a rich source of information on the author and his time, the short text is a disturbing read. Largely consisting of a catalogue of various colonists who tortured black slaves and free people of color in the colonial period, the colonial system here is one defined by slavery, exploitation, terror, and racialized hierarchy. Thus, the infamous Caradeux and Desdunes families, for instance, are listed among the colonist perpetrators of unspeakable violence and horror. The first part of the short work outlines the history of European colonialism in Hispaniola, beginning with the exploitation and destruction of the indigenous population. This, followed by the colonial system defined by chattel slavery, contain the annals of colonialism's destructive impact. Throughout the text, the Baron de Vastey drew from the colonial archive, writings by French colonists, and testimony from Haitians to illustrate the true nature of colonial rule. Unsurprisingly, Haitian independence was just, necessary, and Henri Christophe himself is praised for being the required father of the Haitian "family" to guide us toward liberty and the rule of law. 

Indeed, much of the work emphasizes how colonial laws and regulations were either ignored or used in discriminatory fashions. For example, laws and regulations limiting the dress of free people of color or laws requiring them to adopt African surnames are part of the panoply of oppressive, racist laws that are unquestionably unjust. Other laws, such as those enshrined in the Code Noir for protecting enslaved people from extreme abuse or torture, were routinely ignored. Baron de Vastey even cited the case of a free "mulatto" who was reenslaved unjustly on the instigation of a cruel planter who may have been his father! Everything this colonial system stood for and represented, therefore, required full repudiation and justified Haitian independence. Under the protective leadership of a strong monarch, Henri Christophe, Haiti could withstand the calumny and threat of the colonists. Indeed, Christophe is even compared to the famous cacique, Enriquillo, suggestive of Christophe's stature as a leader on the path to reconstituting the Haitian people. 

Nevertheless, one cannot help but notice some of the ambivalence of the Haitian intellectual of the 19th century. While condemning colonialism in Haiti and the trans-Atlantic Slave Trade, our author wanted European colonialism in Africa. With Sierra Leone as perhaps the best example, Baron de Vastey appears to condone the "civilizing mission" of European colonialism as necessary in Africa. Yet, whilst drawing on the travels of Mungo Park and other sources, he acknowledged that sub-Saharan Africans were not as "barbaric" as our enemies made them out to be. Unfortunately, Baron de Vastey never drew from the testimony of the sizable African-born population in Haiti itself to counter racist narratives of Africa. It is a shame, since he even included "Bembara" as one of the African surnames free people of color were forced to adopt under racist colonial legislation. We suspect the ambivalence of the 19th century Haitian intellectual on Africa, plus the need for a nationalist, palingenesis of a new Haitian people, precluded Baron de Vastey from seriously interrogating European colonialism in Africa or the question of black African civilizations. 

Hurricane Flora and Bainet (1963)

Whilst perusing the internet at night, searching for references to Bainet from various sources as one is wont to do in the late hours of the evening, we came across a short article on Hurricane Flora from LIFE and its destructive impact on Caribbean places such as Bainet in 1963. For including a photograph of Bainet's St. Pierre Church and plaza, we found the picture to be of use. Of course, since the hurricane's destruction of the town damaged many structures, what is seen here is not Bainet at its "best."

History of Bainet Timeline

Although a real endeavor to trace the history of Bainet requires careful searching through archives and collecting oral traditions, we have began an attempt with a simple timeline or chronology. We have largely drawn from Madiou, Ardouin, Rouzier's geographical tomes, Moreau de Saint-Mery, Haitian journals and publications like Le Moniteur or Le Matin, and travel accounts. In addition, any references to Bainet we find in the secondary literature are occasionally sources of information. Furthermore, we did include dates from the precolonial and Spanish colonial period, even though there is no evidence of a Spanish colonial settlement at what later became known as Bainet. However, if the short-lived colonial town of Yaquimo was indeed located near modern Jacmel, we suspect there would have been small indigenous communities in the surrounding area (including today's Bainet) before and during that era. In addition, there are obvious more events or developments in the French colonial period that must be taken into account, such as the free people of color population and the enslaved population. 

pre-1492: Indigenous presence suggested by finds during French colonial period. A cave with human remains was found, said to have been used as a site of refuge to escape the Spanish (but possibly far older)

1499: Arrival of Alonso de Ojeda in Yaquimo, apparently with a goal to enslave Indians.

1503: Murder of Anacaona and several other Xaragua elites, orchestrated by Ovando.

1504: Foundation of the pueblo of Yaquimo. According to Moreau de Saint-Mery, it was built at the site of modern Aquin, although others suggest Jacmel. According to Las Casas, the area around Yaquimo was called Brasil by Columbus due to its ample brazilwood. Intriguingly, there is a section of Bainet called Bresilienne. 

1506: Diego Velazquez alcalde of Villanueva de Yaquimo

1514: Repartimiento indicates displacement of part of Yaquimo's Indian population, which was sent to mining centers of the island. Among Yaquimo caciques with indigenous names are the following: Taubacote, Camaguarex, Cataguaco, Cayguan Guaraba, Domanicarey, and Macaoquicios. Overall, around 1039 Indians, according to Martinez Almanzar.

1516: Map of Hispaniola by Andres de Morales made. Appears to place Yaquimo at the site of today's Jacmel.

by 1520: Yaquimo deserted

1577: Spanish colonial sources mention Indian and black population in Yaquimo, on a ranch

1678: Publication of Exquemelin's famous book on the buccaneers. Mention of Jacmel and Aquin as ports with ample amounts of brazilwood 

1698: Foundation of Compagnie de Saint-Domingue

1703: Census listed families established in Bainet and nearby parishes, including the Saugrain

1718: Bainet became a parish

1725: Law passed prescribing the construction of a church in Bainet

1730: Census found about 700 slaves and only 12 free people of color. 57 indigo plantations in Bainet.

1739: Census indicates growth of coffee plantations and the 'disappearance' of free people of color (presumably classified as 'whites')

1740: 67 Indigo plantations in Bainet

1744: Birth of Julien Raimond

1751: Much of Bainet town destroyed in a hurricane

1773: Nicolson finds Indian remains in Gris-Gris inside a cave

1775: Ordinance established a brigadier

1776: M. de Ennery ordered rebuilding the road from Gris-Gris to Aquin

1781: Hurricane in September destroyed the church

1788: Census indicates 1934 free people of color in Jacmel quartier

1789: Moreau de Saint-Mery described Bainet as having 20 cotton plantations, 20 indigoteries, and 70 coffee plantations. The militia had 60 whites and 240 affranchis. In terms of population Moreau de Saint-Mery wrote it contained 388 whites, 800 affranchis and 5,500 slaves.

1791: Free people of color in Bainet said to be so powerful that the whites didn't send a representative to the colonial assembly in Le Cap. Rebellion of Romaine the Prophetess said to have affected Bainet (at least 3 whites killed by blacks in insurrection, and buried in Bainet, according to Terry Rey). Moreover, Alexandre Boursiquot was accused of orchestrating the killings of 30 whites in Bainet.

1793: Report of Roume of 3000 rebel slaves, led by a white, who sacked Bainet, Jacmel and Cayes de Jacmel

1800: Dessalines takes Bainet from pro-Rigaud forces

1802: Commandant Guillaume authorized former slaves establishing homesteads in the hills for the fee of one gourde. Colonel Gilbon said to have led the insurgents of Bainet's hills against the French (same man?)

1814: Coffee estates Villard and Montra put for sale to increase the number of proprietors

1817: Arbouet listed as representant of Bainet

1818: President Boyer visited Bainet, lowering taxes for some, adjudicating disputes

1819: Thomas Madiou wrote of 5 schools in Bainet, teaching students how to read. Two in the valley, two at Jamaisvu, one at Primature and one in the town. The schools taught a total of 62 students how to read and write. It appears that they were supported or maintained by parents of the students.

1820: Jacques Fequant became new magistrat of Bainet. Colonel Aubin became new commandant de la place of Bainet.

1821: Jean Pierre, residing in Bainet, condemned to die for participating in two murders with Francois dit Aoussa

1823: President Boyer visited Jacmel, where people from Bainet, Marigot, and Saltrou flocked to see him.

1824: Boyer said to have sent many African American immigrants to Bainet (but evidence is lacking).Obin Renaud was commandant de la place. 

c.1825: Census figures included in Mackenzie's Notes on Haiti indicate 7,983 people lived in Bainet

1831: Toussaint Louis condemned for taking a horse from Jean Francois

1833: Jean Joseph Lande filed a case against the lieutenant of the rural police, Alexis Chaumeil, for beating him

1834: Colonel Lemaire commandant of Baynet 

1839: Pierre-Sanon Soliman murdered his brother, Miracle Solimon. 

1840: Bainet's Trou Mahot section under command of lieutenant Charles. Grande-Colline led by Nestant Jacques. Petit Bras led by Garcon Cazales. Mazonne led by Nicaise Jacques, Jamaisvu by Saint Juste Marcille, Gandou by Justin Bourgouin, Gris-Gris by Pointdujour, Bras de la Croix by Michel Juste. In Bainet alone, 1898 habitations or farms in 1840, with only 12 poorly cultivated.

1842: Raphael Pisano listed as priest of Bainet

1843: Garde nationale of Bainet joined the side of the liberal rebels against Boyer's government

1845: Louis Scutt commandant of the commune of Bainet, Michel Lubin inspector of cultures in the commune of Bainet. Mathieu Douge was juge de paix

1846: Fight between Saint Jacques Julien and Cadet Mafonta leads to the latter's death

1847: President of Haiti sent General Villebon to inspect Bainet 

1849: Conseil de Notables includes Jourdain fils, Ferdinand Duchemin, Rousselin Carriere, Joseph Fortin, and Jean Ambroise

1853: Emperor Soulouque in Bainet. His recovery from illness leads to celebrations.

1865: Abbey Demoy vicar of Bainet

1867: Jean Domingue the deputy for Bainet

1869: Piquets defeated in July (in context of Salnave and civil wars engulfing the country)

1872: Bernier as deputy of Bainet

1873 (or 1874?) Augustin Dorsan Ambroise deputy for Bainet

1881: Magistrat of Bainet a A. Jean-Baptiste. 

1888: A. Jean-Baptiste a constituant of Bainet

1890: Population of 12,000; President Legitime sent forces from Bainet against Jacmel

1898: President Sam visited Bainet

1912: Haitian painter Micius Stephane born in Bainet

1917: Birth of painter Edger Jean-Baptiste.

1926: Gerald Bloncourt born in Bainet. Paul Laguerre named as member of Communal Commission. 

1928: Drought in the arrondissement of Jacmel particularly hurt Bainet 

1935: Murder of Deputy Ferere Laguerre (as well as his other relatives) in a feud with the Pierre-Louis family

1937: Christian Adrien mentioned in Le Nouvelliste as magistrat of Bainet

1953: Haiti Sun runs an article on Bainet entitled "Venus of Haiti"

1963: Bainet struck by Hurricane Flora

Haiti, Guyane and the Taino

 

We are not avid followers of Haiti Inter, but they occasionally produce fascinating interviews with different figures from Haiti or its Diaspora. This video, which is probably misleading since at least half of it is really about Haitians and people of Haitian descent in La Guyane, caught our attention for its alleged focus on the Amerindian heritage of Haiti. Unfortunately, the guest does not truly explore that intriguing question of Haiti's Indian legacy. Instead, we are given what has become repeated narratives offered without any evidence. Thus, the veve of Haitian Vodou is said to be of Amerindian origin (no evidence provided for this), while words of Taino origin used in Haitian Creole are given as further examples without nuance or explanation. It's a shame Haitians (and people of Haitian descent) have not yet truly explored this interesting question of Taino legacies in Haiti. Moreover, I am not sure I would assume any close connection between the word Jaragua or Xaragua in Indigenous Haiti and the use of the toponym Jaragua in Tupi-Guarani languages of Brazil. There might be a connection, but we once thought it more likely that Xaragua in Haiti might be connected to Aragua in Venezuela (based on the way Aragua was spelled in one source from the 16th century).

Queen Anacaona

 

I am unsure about the source of this clip, but I found it interesting as one of the more serious Haitian videos on the island's indigenous past. It's designed to be short, simple, and respectful of the "Taino" past on Haiti. There are some issues or areas that undoubtedly require more updated information and nuance (like the population of the island in 1492 or the question of gender relations), but this is interesting. I'd love to see a serious source for the claim of some of the population sizes of villages or towns, too.