Being Poloné in Haiti

Transcription

1 Being Poloné in Haiti

2 Being Poloné in Haiti Being Poloné in Haiti Origins, Survivals, Development, and Narrative Production of the Polish Presence in Haiti Sebastian Rypson 2

3 Being Poloné in Haiti Being Poloné in Haiti Origins, Survivals, Development, and Narrative Production of the Polish Presence in Haiti Sebastian Rypson Doctoral Thesis Student Number: University of Amsterdam Cultural Anthropology Supervisor: Chris de Beet Second: Mattijs van de Port 1 October

4 Being Poloné in Haiti This is a footnote in history, and a history of footnotes... 4

5 Being Poloné in Haiti I dedicate this collection of narratives to Cazale and all moun Kazal; mil fwa mèsi, ak tout kè m I would like to thank all those who have waited so long beg forgiveness of all those who have suffered for it, and thus, all those who have made this thesis possible; I thank you all from the bottom of heart. Without the following people I would not have seen this day; Babi, Chris de Beet, Gèri Benoît, Sylvain Benoît, Tonton Brunvil, Nahuel Blaton, Bruno Chojak, Joris van Diemen, Jean-Jules Emile, Sergo Étienne, Andlène Garçon, Sébastien Goy, Marta Gnyp, The Staff at IFE, Leszek Kolankiewicz, Jadwiga Baba Michalak, Wanda Michalak, Tonton Milot, Big John Moïse, Mayumi Nakazaki, The Staff at The Oloffson, Zbigniew Osiński, Mesye Parèt, Arie Plas, Piotr Rypson, Paul Schaüblin, Jonas Zwitserlood... and a kiss for the three beautiful and much photographed princesses; Estanya, Lovedine, and Ti Vièrgeline... Monday 01:39 1 October 2007, Amsterdam 5

6 Being Poloné in Haiti Table of Contents Introduction 8 Motivation 12 Setting 14 Central Problems and Questions 16 Research Methods 18 Theoretical Approaches 19 Relevance 22 Origins 25 St. Domingue/Haiti 25 Bois Caïman 27 Napoleon and Leclerc 29 Background of the Polish Legions 29 Jablonowski 31 The Polish 3rd Half-Brigade/French 113th of the Line arrive at the Cap 32 The 2nd Battalion, the St. Marc Massacre, and the Polonais Noirs 33 The 3rd Battalion of the 3rd/113th Demibrigade of the Line 37 Rochambeau and Dessalines 38 The 2nd/114th Demi-brigade of the Line 39 Surrender 43 Independence 44 Emperor Dessalines and the Haitian Constitution 45 Aftermath 48 Survivals and Retentions 52 Polishness and Colour 53 Polishness in Vodou, Ezili Dantò of Częstochowa 57 Any Kowalski s in Haiti? 63 Dancing and Music 67 Christmas Lanterns 68 Sayings and Proverbs 69 Architecture 70 (Post-)Colonial Inscriptions 72 Other Manifestations of Polish Presence in Haiti 74 Conclusion 78 6

7 Being Poloné in Haiti Events, Memory, Narrative and Historical Production 82 Faustin Wirkus and the White King of La Gonâve 86 Papa Doc Duvalier and the Massacre of Mr. Blokowski, Detopski, and Grotowski visit Cazale 94 Jerzy Grotowski 100 Pope John Paul II visit to Haiti 102 Cazale s Representative at the Top 109 Polishness & Dévlopman 113 Conclusion 122 References 129 Appendix: Internet Forums 139 7

8 Being Poloné in Haiti Table of Illustrations Fig. 1 - Satellite photo of Haiti 7 Fig. 2 - Satellite photo of Cazale 7 Fig. 3 - Cazale lying in the basin of the River Brethelle, as seen from Beilac 14 Fig. 4 - A favourite past-time of rural Haitian men; the cockfight, or gaguerre (or gagè) in Cazale 24 Fig. 5 - Cérémonie du Bois Caïman by Louverture Poisson 27 Fig. 6 & 7 - Polish Legionnaire 31 Fig. 8 - Polish Legionnaires on San Domingo by January Suchodolski 31 Fig. 9 - Massacre at St. Marc as depicted in "Ashes" by Andrzej Wajda 34 Fig Jean Jacques Dessalines 39 Fig Haitian Flag 39 Fig Battle on San Domingo by January Suchodolski 43 Fig The variations in racial phenotype of Cazaliens is striking; Cazaliens in KaDet and KaBelno, both are habitations of greater Cazale 54 Fig Variations in phenotype occurs frequently within families; Lovedine, Vièrgeline, Estanya 56 Fig. 15 Vièrgeline 56 Fig Our Lady of Częstochowa 61 Fig Lithograph of Mater Salvatoris 61 Fig The Black Virgin of Częstochowa on a Haitian backdrop, Fig. 19 Erzulie Danthor by Camy Rocher 61 Fig Purported headstone of "Zal"; mythical first Polish settler of Cazale; Cazale cemetery 64 Fig Descendant sitting on his ancestors grave; the Belnots 64 Fig Haitian fanal or Christmas lantern 69 Fig 'Polish-style' houses in KaBelno, Cazale 71 Fig Fond Blanc; purported site of first Polish settlement 73 Fig Poloné mother and her children in Fond Blanc 73 Fig 'La Polonaise'; sign of part time disco/club/bar in Cazale 75 Fig Vèvè, drawn symbol to invoke Ezili Dantò 80 Fig The White King of La Gonave by Faustin Wirkus 87 Fig Polish rewriting of The White King of La Gonave; Biały Król Gonawy by Jan Kilarski 87 Fig Présence Polonaise en Haïti; published during the Pope's visit, showing the Pope and Dessalines side by side 108 Fig Geri Benoit interviewing an old Cazalien for documentary Sang Melee 113 Fig IFE sign 113 Fig Poloné children at the home of Andlène Garçon; teacher and leading GCDC member 121 Fig The local school; Lycee Jérémie Eliazer, partially funded by the GCDC 121 Fig Poloné children in Cazale 128 8

9 Being Poloné in Haiti Fig. 1 - Satellite photo of Haiti Fig. 2 - Satellite photo of Cazale 9

10 Being Poloné in Haiti: Introduction Introduction In 1802 and 1803 around five and a half thousand Polish Legionnaires embarked from the Italian port of Livorno, bound for the French colony of Saint-Domingue in the Caribbean. They were sent as part of an expeditionary force by the First Consul Napoleon Bonaparte ( ) to quell the slave revolt that had the richest colony of France in its grip. These Legionnaires, two demi-brigades, volunteered to fight under Bonaparte in his imperialistic campaigns. They had aligned themselves with Bonaparte assuming that he would deliver upon his promise to restore freedom to Poland and Lithuania which were then under a three-fold occupation by the regional powers of Prussia, Russia and the Austro-Hungarian Empire. The Polish Legions was a curious institution in itself. Formed abroad after the third and final partition of Poland (24 October 1795), it acted as a foreign legion and a welcome addition to Napoleon s troops, at that point waging war with the other European powers. So what were these Poles doing, sweating under the sweltering sun of the Caribbean? The conflict that brought the Poles to Saint-Domingue started in 1791 when the plantation owners in the colony refused to accept the decreed abolition of slavery. First the mulattos and then the slaves rebelled under the illusion that the revolutionary government in Paris would come to their aid. But Saint-Domingue was too precious to lose and the French liberals were apathetic. When Napoleon came to power he sent an enormous pacification army to quell the rebellious blacks and mulattos. It was a cruel war, full of burning, looting, rape, murder and mass atrocities on both sides. Some have described it as one of the first major colonial wars between two implacable enemies, where genocide was the final, and perhaps only possible, outcome. This great army, in which the Polish Legionnaires were initially fighting under their own colours, uniforms and officers, was doomed from the start. The Poles, badly equipped, wearing uniforms which were totally unsuitable to the climate, badly treated by the French, with their antiquated military honour and home-sick, so far from their occupied motherland, were decimated by drowning, yellow fever, and the superior guerrilla tactics of the rebellious former slaves. On 1 January 1804, despite the arrival of further contingents of foreign volunteers, Toussaint Louverture s successor, the rebel general Jean-Jacques Dessalines, succeeded in proclaiming the world s first black republic: Haiti. What happened to those Poles, so far away from their cherished homeland, who had jumped at the possibility to volunteer in the Legions with the ultimate goal of liberating their country from foreign domination and oppression? This question is central to the present study. Their fate, that is, those that died, were interned by the English or survived and were able to make it back to Europe, has been laboriously untangled in 10

11 Being Poloné in Haiti: Introduction the seminal works published by Jan Pachoński, the foremost authority on the history of the Polish Legions. Through his diligent and painstaking archival research we can arrive at an approximation of the number of Polish participants in the campaign in Saint-Domingue. Of the two Polish demibrigades, the Danube Legion (dunajska) and the Cisvistulian Legion (nadwiślanska), some 5280 soldiers participated in the St. Domingue campaign. Among them were some 200 officers, 111 of whom were able to return to European shores. The soldiers and non-commissioned men fared less well, only some 200 ever saw the possibility of attaching themselves to their officers and returning to Europe. Of the remaining soldiers, some 4000 died from drowning, yellow fever, combat or in captivity on the rotting pontoons the English kept on the Jamaican coast. The English enlisted 500 Legionnaires in their 60 th foreign regiment, 200 emigrated to Cuba or the United States, and some 400 Polish Legionnaires finally stayed in St. Domingue, either by defecting to the former slave revolutionaries, marrying local women, or being taken prisoner. At the end of the war in 1804, which saw the birth of the Haitian nation, these forgotten survivors, by the magnanimous and generous gesture of Dessalines, were able to make use of article 13 of the 1805 Haitian Constitution. They were naturalised as Haitian citizens and enjoyed all the benefits of Haitian citizenship. These Legionnaires and especially their descendants, form the subject of this thesis. What were their reasons for staying in Haiti? Firstly, the French did not provide ransom money to buy their freedom, so in all probability many of them were not able to make the trip back to Europe. Secondly, these patriotic Poles had little to lose. Napoleon was far away, they had been fighting a war which was not their own, they were trying to suppress a population whose ideals were to be free and liberated from foreign tyranny, very close in fact to the ideals that had driven them towards joining the Polish Legions; all they had to look forward to was a life of servitude under some Polish, Russian, Austrian or German landowner or incarceration in a British prison. It seems that these Polish freedom fighters merged into Haitian society and vanished into the mists and myths of Haitian history. Forgotten in Europe, the story of the ex-legionnaires was apparently doomed to die with them and their descendants. Clearly this is not the case. My own interest in the tragic events of the campaign was aroused by casual remarks made by Haitians whom I had met during my first trip to Haiti about my being Polish : Oh-oh, se poloné ou ye? Se bon moun yo ye ( Oh really, you re a Pole? They re good people, they are ). Back in Amsterdam, furiously scanning the Net, I came across two books which would be helpful for my preparation. Lost White Tribes (Orizio 2000), the first book, is a well-written and creatively documented description of the author s search for largely forgotten, secluded communities of descendants of former colonists in former colonies. Ricardo Orizio, an Italian journalist, visited Cazale in In the context of finding lost white tribes around the world in former colonies, he went to Cazale to find the long-lost Polish one. The journalistic streak is evident in Orizio, as he deftly weaves a story which swiftly, efficiently takes the reader from humour to sorrow, from upbeat potential to melancholic nostalgia. There are few concrete references, no sources mentioned, yet it was the most 11

12 Being Poloné in Haiti: Introduction up-to-date information and proof of the existence of a Polish community. I doubt if he was there longer than a couple of days but his conversations with some of the inhabitants along with some impressive archival material, in the form of letters of Legionnaires to their families or comrades as well as military dispatches, interspersed with professional effectiveness within the text, was immensely hopeful for me. The second book, Poland s Caribbean Tragedy (1985) by Jan Pachoński and Reuel K. Wilson, was of a totally different order. It is a meticulous study of the turn of events in those last three years of the military campaign. It describes the ambiguous and unfortunate situation of the Poles as well as the fate of certain key-characters that figured in this colonial nightmare. It is an invaluable source that recounts numbers, statistics and events with military precision (it is, after all, a historical account of a military campaign). However, these two publications aren t the first revival of interest in this most curious history. At the time of the campaign and the years directly following it, there were furious debates on the conduct of the war in Saint-Domingue in the newspapers in France, the United States, Saint-Domingue itself, and in all three of the occupied areas of partitioned Poland (especially in the Prussian administered zone of Wielkopolska/Preussen-Posen and Gdańsk/Danzig). Later publications of memoirs followed by those few Polish Legions officers who made it safely back to partition Poland. Both the manuscripts and the newspapers seemed to seriously dwell on two matters. The first was Polish disillusionment with Napoleon and suspicion of his sentiments towards the Polish cause. The second; the hot debate on the question whether the Poles were actively defecting to the rebellious blacks of Dessalines. This view was mainly expounded by the French. The Poles, on the other hand, saw their conduct as exemplary, in spite of their strong reservations as to the conduct and even the cause of this war; the loyalty of these committed soldiers was repaid with bad treatment, infamous bad-mouthing, and non-payment for the great sacrifice that they had to suffer. Not to mention the virtual annihilation of their Polish Legions, the proud young soldiers, cultivated so hopefully, who were supposed to be the vanguard of the liberation of Poland and Lithuania from foreign yoke. These memoirs were complimented by a continuous stream of Polish historians and buffs who, as Poland was still occupied during the whole of the nineteenth century, were obsessed by foreign treachery visà-vis Poland. Stanisław Schnűr-Pepłowski, with his Jeszcze Polska nie zginela. Dzieje Legionow Polskich, [Still is Poland not lost. History of the Polish Legions, ], was a notable example. Later, around the 1920s, during the short-lived period of populist dictatorship and national reconstruction, several noted historians turned their attention to the newly accessible national archives, greatly added to by recent arrivals of archives such as the Rappersville Collection from Switzerland and Sankt Petersburg Collection from Revolutionary Russia. These were: Szymon Askenazy (Napoleon a Polska, III, [Napoleon and Poland] 1918), Artur Oppman (ed. Na San Domingo, [On San Domingo] 1917) and A.M. Skałkowski (Polacy na San Domingo, [Poles on San Domingo] 1921) 12

13 Being Poloné in Haiti: Introduction among others. Many of these authors based themselves on and referred to copies of a manuscript written by two St. Domingue veterans; Kazimierz Lux and Bazyli Wierzbicki. The tangle of threads that make up the story of its authorship is aptly described in Pachoński and Wilson s Poland s Caribbean Tragedy. Suffice to say, that there are a great many inaccuracies which pervade through the manuscript, adding to the general confusion of all the little threads of human behaviour that make up this story of Euro- Afro-Caribbean cross-pollination. From the 1950s to the 1980s a few Polish journalists and historians made the arduous journey to the village of Cazale as well as other purported Polish communities. These journalists include Budrewicz, Zakrzewski, Łepkowski, historian Pachoński, his American collaborator Wilson, and the historian Corbett. All of them have written and published accounts of their trip but only Pachoński & Wilson, Łepkowski, Madiou, Ardouin and Corbett have written anything (all of which are historical works) that seems reasonably trustworthy, that is, academic objects which I could have possibly tested, verified, or disqualified. This trickle of information was responsible for heightened interest among the general public in Poland at the time. One such revival came in 1974 with a soccer match between Poland and Haiti for the world cup. The game invoked a renewed interest in the history of the Polish Legions in Haiti, as well as those unfortunates who were forgotten and were obliged to stay. Yet these revivals came and went as all revivals do in the modern world; first they generated immediate mass interest only to subside and nestle into the comfortable sub-consciousness of communal knowledge and public amnesia. At last we come to the great Jan Pachoński who passed away in 1985, just as his American collaboration was being published. He is widely accepted as the prime authority on the history of the Legions. He is primarily responsible for the collection, compilation, and analysis of all the sources and works before him that makes up the body of work that deals with this fluke of history. There are other threads to this story. Staying true to the quirky character of this history, they are also rather unbelievable. A sergeant of the US marines, for example, sparked a first revival in the United States around the 1930s. Faustin Wirkus, born of Polish parents, went to Haiti as part of the American Occupation ( ), and visited Cazale repeatedly during his tour of duty. After a three-year stint as king of the island of La Gonâve, he was forced to return to the US where he published his memoirs; The White King of La Gonave (1931). Jerzy Grotowski ( ) was a famous Polish dramatist who ventured to Haiti in 1980 to search for Haitian vodou houngans (voodoo priests) and use them in his plays. He brought at least one Poloné-Ayisyen, a man named Amon Frémon, back to Poland and worked with him, together with Haitian legendary artist group, Saint-Soleil, for eight or nine months. On the eve of Jaruzelski s state of emergency they were sent back to Haiti. 13

14 Being Poloné in Haiti: Introduction One day in March 1983, two Catholic priests made their way up the steep road to Cazale. They instructed the peasants to prepare themselves and be ready, wearing their traditional Polish clothes, when they came for them again to bring them to a great celebration. The completely mystified peasants changed into their best Sunday clothes and waited. A week later the two priests loaded between ten and fifty Poloné-Ayisyens those with the fairest skin- into a truck and unloaded the hungry and tired peasants on the international airport of Port-au-Prince. Amidst thousands of Haitians waving Haitian and Vatican flags, they stood there with Polish white and red flags and awaited the Pope. Having kissed the ground twice, Karol Wojtyła walked over to the Poloné-Ayisyens where they were given the opportunity to shake his hand. He delivered a speech and he seems to have promised the Poloné-Ayisyens, on the grounds that being Poles both sides had the obligation to help each other, some financial aid. It was in this context that several Haitian priests published a pamphlet with some six pages of photographs on the Polish presence in Haiti. Motivation In the summer of 2001 I travelled to Haiti hoping to find something about the origins of the relationship between Vodou and music. Earlier I had become interested in the relationship between Voodoo or Hoodoo in New Orleanian terminology- and music in New Orleans. Lack of funds prompted me to do an orientation trip to Haiti the source of Vodou in the New World - with the additional advantage of two Vodou festivals taking place during the short period I was there. The sight of a solitary white boy travelling around Haiti triggered the expected questions one usually gets when sticking out like a sore thumb. Mentioning that I was Polish and interested in the history of Haiti usually resulted in dumbfounded expressions of disbelief or rather, incomprehension. A couple of times though, whilst speaking to more educated Haitians, I noticed surprising reactions of a sympathetic nature, sometimes even an Ah wi, Poloné yo, yo bon moun. After a couple of instances of this I took another glance at the population & people section of my Lonely Planet. Surprised I read the following: In the small town of Cazales, north of Cabaret, one can find the anomaly of black-skinned, blue-eyed people who sing and dance to traditional Polish folk music. These are descendants of a Polish regiment from Napoleon s army who were so sickened by the war against the slaves in Haiti that they deserted in 1802, establishing a small community in the countryside. The people of Cazales performed Polish folk dances to welcome Pope John Paul II on his visit to Haiti in (Gordon 1999:331) Unfortunately, due to lack of time, money and possibly even courage an outburst of political violence pinned me to my hotel for two consecutive days- I was unable to make the trip to Cazale. Back in 14

15 Being Poloné in Haiti: Introduction Amsterdam though, I found the afore-mentioned books dealing in some capacity or other with this subject. They were, as mentioned above, Poland s Caribbean Tragedy and Lost White Tribes, the latter of which I bought and read immediately. Orizio devotes one chapter to these Haitians of Polish descent: Papa Doc s Poles. Orizio is a journalist and although in some cases he utilises archival material (which hints to at least some research) to great effect, his story is much suited to serve journalistic taste and style. Among other subjects that truly interested me, he briefly goes into the possible origin of the name of the village, speculating that Zal might have been the surname or nickname of the first Polish settler there. The Polish word żal signifies regret and, in the context of Polish culture in general, it is combined with regret and longing; the longing to return to one s homeland. 1 I mention this because it is the exact moment that I decided to devote all my energy and concentration to the descendants of those long forgotten Legionnaires. The question of whether żal was a nickname or actually means longing will be further discussed in the chapter Survivals and Retentions. Suffice to say, I feel rather foolish now, remembering my somewhat patriotic sentiment, yet it was also that initial sentiment that propelled me towards a more systematic approach. I started delving into any material I could find on the subject, sifting through Warsaw University archives and thereby greatly increasing the body of literature that might have aided me in my study. Having said this it would be misleading to state that I had a lot of relevant literature on the subject. I have already briefly summed up the nature of most of my literature, thus my aim was to fill up the academic void with respect to the existence of individuals claiming Polish descent, ancestry or identity. My interest in history has been a constant one, especially that history which has a connection with Polish or Central and Eastern European history. The broad scale of narratives: journalisticsensationalistic, local-mythological (oral), and academic (mostly military strategic), has heightened my awareness of the different sorts of histories that exist side by side. The three types above suggest a complicated tangle of relationships between them, sometimes diverging, sometimes overlapping and intersecting; yet always influencing each other. My own personal history as Polish born, yet brought up in New Zealand, the Cook Islands, and the Netherlands should not be overlooked. It may give insight into the question of subjectivity versus objectivity that will certainly arise in the present study. My interest in the above perhaps reflects (partly) subconscious questions as to my own identity. I mean, how Polish could I really be? I can hardly be called a great carrier and reservoir of Polish culture. I certainly wish to avoid presenting the reader with a student in extreme inner turmoil resulting from some grossly exaggerated identity crisis. My only point being that reflecting on my own drive to do this research could provide me with angles that I had not thought of before one example being the role of men in the reproduction of culture. Ultimately, it is the quirky nature of this fluke of history that draws me to delve deeper into the intricacies of this historical narrative. 1 The word żal is immortalised in an old Góral (Polish mountain people) folk song; urging the home-sick Góral to come back to his mountain region (the Hal); Góralu czy nie żal 15

16 Being Poloné in Haiti: Introduction Setting The republic of Haiti spans of 27,750 square kilometres. It takes up about a third of the island of Hispaniola, to the East of Cuba, the other two thirds comprising the Dominican Republic. There are around and about 7,000,000 inhabitants of which 95% are of pure African origin, the other 5% include whites, mulattos and Syrians. 2 Haitians of Polish decent thus also constitute part of that 5%. Importantly, 90% of all Haitians are monolingual in Kreyol. Thus it was imperative for me to learn that language in order to communicate aptly with locals. According to historical sources no more than 400 to 500 Polish Legionnaires settled in Haiti. Although most had been concentrated in several villages throughout Haiti, including St. Jean du Sud, Fond des Blancs, La Baleine, and Port Salut in the Southern peninsula, the place where I did most of my fieldwork was named Cazale, the most wellknown Poloné community. Fig. 3 - Cazale lying in the basin of the River Brethelle, as seen from Beilac It takes about half an hour to an hour to get to Cazale from Cabaret by four wheel drive, depending on the season. Although only some thirteen kilometres, the road to Cazale is in such disrepair that, besides claiming several lives every year, it takes an inordinate amount of time to get to this Poloné village. The upside of this snail-paced travelling is that one can observe Haitian rural life, as it 2 All immigrants from the Levant are generically referred to as Syriens. 16

17 Being Poloné in Haiti: Introduction proceeds at much the same pace. The road appropriately named the Kaka-bal- 3 loosely follows the Brethelle River upstream, towards the foothills where Cazale lies. Cazale proper begins as one crosses the Pont-Sofie Bridge. Following the river closely now, one is immediately struck by the stark contrast between the barren hills, denuded of the forests that must have once covered them completely, and the lush palm groves, mango trees, and small banana plantations amongst which Cazale s houses are nestled. In general, lush tropical vegetation follows the river and settlements, starting from Cazale, proceeding through Fond Blanc to the habitations of Dangoulard (Dangoula) and Enard (Ena) deep in the mountains. 4 The centre of town is where the tap-taps stop at the edge of the river, across which is the oldest section, KaBelno. Here, several Madam Saras sell their morning coffee, bisket, and soda pop. Cazale and the area around it, is much like any other Haitian rural community, rather poor, overwhelmingly agricultural, scant evidence of state presence, a Tuesday market, and a plethora of different denominations that have made rapid headway into the pluralism of Haitian spiritual and religious life. It is in fact a very typical and ordinary village in West Haiti, as the administrative region in which it lies is called. A very ordinary town with a rather unordinary and curious history of Polish turncoat Legionnaires, marrying Haitian and African women, and settling in this particular valley and basin of the River Brethelle (otherwise known as Béthel). What is so intriguing about Cazale is that the village hardly differs from any other village of its size straddling a river. The only outstanding qualities of this town are the very evident traces of European lighter skin, eyes, and hair, and the fact that the people from Cazale especially, and in Fond Blanc to a lesser degree, seem to be very certain of their Polish ancestry. 5 This is expressed in several limited ways, stories and gestures, but fundamentally based on logic of: Look at us, of course we are Polish, often followed by: in fact there s someone from Cazale that looks exactly like you. Cazale is a village of about souls, poor, but not poverty-stricken by Haitian standards. Actually, as in nearly all facets of Haitian reality, there is considerable confusion as to what exactly comprises the town of Cazale. To understand Cazale s geographic, as well as its administrative location, one has to understand Haiti s subdivisions. There are 9 departments (départements), 41 districts and 135 towns, each divided in communal sections or extended villages. One such section communale is Cazale, one of four in the administrative zone of Cabaret, which was declared a town in Cazale is one of the eleven habitations of the section communale, and although the Cazaliens would hate to admit it, it is actually called the section communale de Fond Blanc. At the time of research, the people of Cazale were at great pains not only 3 Kaka-bal is an alternative to CabaCal (road from Cabaret to Cazale); note that the word kaka (shit) is present in the alternative. 4 Dangoula and Ena form the border of Section Communale de Fond Blanc, bordering on the Saut d Eau region; Haiti s primary Vodou pilgrimage centre. 5 Other habitations that I visited which constitute the Section Communale de Fond Blanc and harbour tell-tale traces of Polish descent are; Germain, Beilac, Dangoula, Ena, and Desables. 17

18 Being Poloné in Haiti: Introduction to change the communal section to the name of Cazale, but also to upgrade its status to that of a town with its own zone administrative. There are several churches of which the Catholic one has the most prestigious geographical position (on the shoulder of a hill overlooking the habitation of Cazale). Still, the other denominations (mostly missionary protestant, Anglican, Church of God, Jehova s witness, Pentecostal as well as three or four Vodou temples (péristyles-vodou) together make up a slight majority in town. There is an office of the Juge de Paix, a government-run elementary and secondary school of which most Cazaliens say that it is not very good - as well as an electricity plant, run on gasoline. At the time of my research it was not running whatsoever, due to lack of communal will or possibility to pay for the gasoline needed to run the plant. Housing in Cazale consists of a hodgepodge of wooden kay-pay, small brick houses built in the last thirty years, new brick and concrete houses (built mostly by the more affluent - though not necessarily more tasteful- of the town), new concrete church monstrosities, as well as the aforementioned Polish-style houses. The town starts at the bridge (pont-sofie) and follows the winding road until it reaches the tap-tap-stop on the bank of the river Brethelle, where the bridge over to the other side of Cazale (KaBelno) used to stand until it was washed away during recent overflowing of the river. This then was the setting of my fieldwork. Central Problems and Questions In preparing for my fieldwork in Haiti I had little material to go on. Sure, I had amassed a great body of photocopies which in one capacity or other dealt with the subject at hand. But these were rather curious items, excerpts from memoirs and history books, journalistic descriptions of the 1960s and 70s. Hence my initial operationalisation of the questions, sub-questions, and problems that I expected to come across was necessarily one with a wide range in which to delve. Obviously, during my fieldwork (this was from April to July 2003) and engaging with my respondents, many questions and realities that I had and carried with me with trepidation, fell into place as to the possibility of answering them or even dealing with them. I formulated my central problem in the following manner: What is still to be found/remains of the so-called Polish Presence in Haiti? By Polish Presence I mean; those individuals or collectives who claim Polish descent, in one way or another, as part of their individual or collective consciousness, and which is expressed in one way or another. In the off-chance that no people claimed Polish descent or Polish-derived identification, I would focus on those people that are externally categorised (yet internally do not define themselves as such) as an ethnic group or a social category of people by other Haitians, as well as those Haitians who do the categorising. Soon after I arrived in Haiti I found that there was at least one community (the one in Cazale), where people claimed Polish descent. What interested me was on which level they identify with Polishness or, put differently, in 18

19 Being Poloné in Haiti: Introduction what way does their identification with Polishness manifest itself. I distinguished three different, yet interrelated, areas of cultural praxis. 1. Material Culture (religious, farming, ceremonial, ritual or household articles or paraphernalia, also musical instruments, religious icons, visual representations, architecture, and such) originating from the Polish soldiers or their purported descendants. Also, that which is internally defined as being of Polish or Euro- (Afro-) American manufacture. 2. Ceremonies, rituals (religious or secular, birth, death, marriage, conflict, agricultural, etc.), customs, folklore, food, dances and music which are internally or externally defined as being of Polish (or their descendants ) origin. 3. Oral traditions: myths, folk-tales, commentaries, oral histories, individual or collective memories and histories, proverbs, classifications, definitions and categorisations, all dealing with the presence of Poles and/or their descendants in Haiti. Because my subject is historical, I also focussed on historical publications, written documents, pamphlets, newspaper accounts, constitutional articles etc. within and outside of Haiti dealing with the presence of Polish descendants. I also tried to find manifestations of Polishness in what I call (post-)colonial inscriptions ; those names of places, events and geographical features that refer, somehow, to the Polish Legions and their participation in the Haitian war of Independence. Although not yet classified as such, I so-called the Polish Presence because I etically categorised the Polish Legionnaires and their descendants who have retained a certain measure of distinctiveness, and those Poles who came after the first wave of Polish settlers, under the generic term of Polish Presence in Haiti. This broad term encompasses human and non-human, material and immaterial culture. 6 I realise that I often use Polishness and that the term is rather tenuous; what constitutes Polishness? Because I depart from the assumption that Polishness in itself, and Polishness in Haiti in particular, constitutes a whole debate on its own, I limit myself to defining Polishness in Haiti as that which is considered Polish by Haitians from within the Poloné-Ayisyen community, as well as by Haitians outside of that community. Knowing now that there are remains of Polishness in Haiti as well as how they are manifested (that is based on what?), the question arises; why are there remains of Polishness in Haiti? Why do Haitians and foreigners, Poles and non-poles, Haitians of Polish descent and Haitians of non-polish descent, keep the narrative of Polish Legionnaires and their descendants in Haiti alive? 6 During my stay in Haiti, there was enough evidence that there was indeed an external categorisation and definition of Haitians of Polish descent. Foreign publications are very clear on this; furthermore, many Haitians were quite adamant about the existence of such a group of people in Haiti. 19

20 Being Poloné in Haiti: Introduction Research Methods It seemed logical to carefully research all literature pertaining to the Polish participation in the St. Domingue campaign as well as the little that has been written on the subject of their descendants; in libraries on this side of the Atlantic (Amsterdam, Warszawa, Kraków) as well as in Haiti and the US (Library of Congress). To augment this I planned to use participant observation as well as interviews, using them, in the case of Haitian Polonés, as commentaries on the myths, histories and stories gathered among Western and Polish sources on the one hand, and Haitian historians on the other. With regard as to how I came in contact with my informants, I used the so-called snowball method, using my key-informant as starting point and progressing through to the people who were referred to or, as was often the case, the people who came by of their own volition as they wished to say something on the matter. My key-informant and gatekeeper was Géri Benoît, former First Lady of Haiti. I had met her some ten days after I arrived in Haiti and we immediately developed a close relationship based on shared interests and personal friendship. Born to Cazalien parents, she has written a master s thesis on Cazale s developmental issues. Her hospitality and support for my own research were overwhelming. In Cazale, I was allowed to stay with her father, Sylvain Benoît, an affable and hospitable man who was instrumental in teaching me Kreyol. Géri Benoît also introduced me to Jean-Jules Emile, responsible for my general well-being, translation, and incorporation into the Cazalien community. Through Jean-Jules, I met Andlène Garçon, teacher at the local school in Cazale, who patiently answered all my awkwardly formulated questions. Pastè Justin, taken in by Cazalien families as a boy, was widely considered an authority on Cazale s history; he was instrumental in providing a local version of Cazale s history. Two of Géri Benoît s uncles, tonton Milot and tonton Brunvil, adopted me and made me feel as if I was family, as was often stressed. I quickly became close friends with Sergo Etienne, Benoît s chauffeur, and he was central to a comprehensive understanding of Haiti s society, as well as another of my tutors in Kreyol. However, Géri Benoît was instrumental in providing access to all these individuals and others, without her support I doubt if I would have been able to do my research in such a relatively easy, informative, and enjoyable fashion. The Poloné-Ayisyens were not the only informants I interviewed; in order to unravel the Grotowski-connection with Haiti I came into contact with several Polish Grotologists 7 or people who had worked with Grotowski. My interviews with Poloné-Ayisyens started with questions based on the operationalisation of my central problem and sub-questions, translated into Kreyol by my minder and friend, Jena-Jules Emile. Later I had mastered Kreyol enough to go to interviews on my own and subsequently I also redirected my questions according to the relevance for each informant. I turned to literature such as the Monographie de Cazale (2002) for my statistics concerning Cazale and the area around it. As for the statistics 7 Grotologistis [Pol.: Grotolog], dramatologists specialised in the life and work of Jerzy Grotowski. 20

21 Being Poloné in Haiti: Introduction concerning the Polish Legionnaires during the St. Domingue campaign, I turned to Poland s Caribbean Tragedy and Pachoński s Polacy na Antylach i Morzu Karaibskim [Poles on the Antilles and the Caribbean Sea] (1979). For the most part however, my research can be squarely fitted into the qualitative domain, both interviews as well as research on literature, with a strong concentration on text analysis. Theoretical Approaches As should be apparent from the above, a speculative approach and an historical perspective lie at the basis of my research. It is therefore unsurprising that I found the works of Mintz and Price extremely helpful. In An Anthropological Approach to the Afro-American Past: A Caribbean Perspective (1976) the authors present a general anthropological approach to Afro-American culture and history. Their approach, as is mine, is... speculative and the characteristics of our baseline are often generalized from scanty data (1976:1). Their understandings and assumptions on the subject of continuities and retentions of cultural materials among Afro-Americans seemed to be highly applicable to the way the Polish cultural institutions might have developed in Haiti during their 200 year history. For example, they argue that no group, no matter how well equipped or how free to choose, can transfer its way of life and the accompanying beliefs and values intact, from one locale to another (1976:1). They elaborate upon this when discussing perceived continuities, so-called africanisms, which were identified by earlier Afro-Americanists (Herskovits and Frazier) as existing in the Americas. For Mintz & Price, formal continuities and perceived similarities between the Old World and the New should be viewed sceptically. Careful historical research of these said continuities reduces the number of convincing cases greatly yet hints at new levels of continuity, at the syntactic, aesthetic and cosmological levels. The formal similarities then, are not evidence of static retentions or survivals but are rather products of independent development and innovations, within historically related and overlapping sets of broad aesthetic ideas. This is an approach I will give much consideration to in developing perspectives within my present study. Their discussions of Afro-American culture could, as I saw it, fruitfully be applied to my study of what I think, is a Euro-Afro-American culture. The following excerpt clearly denotes the relationship between ethnography, history, and speculation. I urge the reader to exchange Afro- American for Euro-Afro-Caribbean. We have been suggesting that a firm grounding in what is known as the past of Afro- American peoples can enhance our understanding of their present, much as the study of the present provides clues that can be carried fruitfully into archival research. Some additional emphasis on the uses of the past is called for, certainly not to the exclusion of ethnography, but as a corollary, particularly in the case of Afro-American cultures. Given the tension-ridden 21

22 Being Poloné in Haiti: Introduction initial situations in which enslaved Africans found themselves, we believe that one promising strategy though by no means the only one- for plotting the rise of Afro-American cultures would be to focus on the beginnings, from which we can work forward, rather than simply to extrapolate backward on the basis of perceived similarities with Old World cultures. (Mintz & Price 1976:32) Mintz and Price therefore used both documentary materials and speculation to try to understand the basic conditions under which the migrations of enslaved Africans occurred. I planned to use oral history as a supplement to these approaches as Price himself has done in later books, most notably First-Time (1983), The Convict and the Colonel (1986), and Alabi s World (1990). So what speculations did I make, based on the scanty documentary material that I had been able to get my hands on? I knew that the Polish Legions were a military outfit that was, at least formally, based on voluntary choice. This entailed strong patriotism on behalf of those who joined the Legions, as well as a strong egalitarian bent as the Legionnaires had strong republican sympathies. So, if these volunteer Legionnaires were patriotic concerning their nationality, it seemed likely that they must ve gone to some pains to preserve their Polishness, whatever that might have meant. Continuities might be sought in forms of land-tenure, food and taste, spatial organisation of their humble abodes, folk-medicine, festivities (mainly religious, prevalent in 18 th century rural Poland), etiquette, familial relations and customs, leisurely games, hair-, moustache- and beard styles, etc. As they were soldiers, I embarked on delving into the military customs of 18 th century Legionnaire culture. I was thinking here of weaponry, morals on military honour, military dances and music. Hence, I set upon reading about several possible areas in which Polish culture could have been continued or retained, bearing in mind that these would have almost certainly have been subject to modification, adaptation, hybridisation and syncretism, so that I might at least identify Polishlooking aspects of culture. In the process of so doing I would try to ascertain whether this is indeed perceived as Polish by my informants. This approach thus had significant influence upon my methodology. In addition to participant observation, my aim was also to get commentary on questions as to the Polishness of an aspect of their daily praxis. It would be interesting to see what aspects of culture, that is, complex repertoires which people experience, use, learn and do in their daily lives, within which they construct an ongoing sense of themselves and an understanding of their fellows (Jenkins 1997:14), they would present as Polish and which aspects of Polish continuity as I identify them- they did not attach special significance to. There is of course another problem that I had to address. What category of people was I dealing with here? Following the Barthian model (Barth 1969) and further elaborations by Jenkins (1997) I had to address the question of whether the Poloné-Ayisyens identify themselves in terms of us and them. This is central to the question as to which terms they employ in the process of social organisation; what do they call themselves, nominally speaking? In dealing with this problem I was to 22

23 Being Poloné in Haiti: Introduction study the processes and practices whereby ethnicity is socially constructed, that is to say, by which categories of ascription and identification do the actors distinguish themselves from Others (Jenkins 1997:17-19). Thus ethnic identity is seen as an aspect of social organisation. I hoped to identify the imagined, though not imaginary, boundaries which are presented, produced, and reproduced by the actors as being of significance in their conceptions of themselves and others. I also wanted to critically investigate the basis of identification and the ideology that springs forth from that basis. Possible selfidentifications might be kinship, communality, regionality, co-residence, ethnicity, nationality or race (1997:85). This could give me insight as into how strongly ethnic identity is seen as an important organisational aspect in their self-definition. Because of the limited data that I had access to at the time, I was fully aware of the possibility that the Poloné-Ayisyens might not exist as a socially defined group at all. Although the data I did have did point to the existence of such a group, no independent ethnographic material was known to me that stated beyond doubt that they did indeed exist. Hence, I devised a plan B, the logical sequel to my first sub question: Are there any individuals in Haiti who claim Polish ancestry, if so, based on what, and how this is expressed? Thus the subsequent question was: If not? What stories circulate within and outside of Haiti about the existence of Poloné-Ayisyens? The Barthian model was insightful here. Ethnic groups, according to Barth, are not simply defined internally, they are also externally defined and socially categorised. This is important because both these mutually interdependent yet theoretically distinct social processes -- internal and external definition are of importance in the production of what we know as identity. In the context of my pending fieldwork, this realisation was useful for it left an entire avenue open within which I could inquire into the sources of the myth (in the unlikely event that the Polonés did not exist) of the Haitian Poles. Practically speaking, my focus would shift from the Polonés to those Haitians who were able to tell me something about the Poles that settled in Haiti. This could range from recounting what happened in the Haitian Revolution and the Polish role in that war to where the purported Poles are reported to reside. Once in the region I would go to both the villages which were said to be Polish as well as to the villages of the villagers who said so. In this way I would be chasing a myth, the myth of the Poloné-Ayisyens in Haiti. I try to track down, find, and interview Haitians who in some way contributed to the myth of the said Poles in Haiti. In sum, I would try to delve into the role the Polish myth/history plays in the corpus of stories and oral traditions Haitians employ to give meaning and significance to the story of the Haitian Poles. In addition, I would try to find anything tangible about these Poles. By tangible I mean something which is clearly there : political pamphlets which, in some way, deal with the Polish Presence, local Haitian historical publications about the Poles, census reports, registers. Also, (post-) colonial inscriptions: place names, crossroads, mountains, et cetera which could somehow give me avenues to further inquire about them among the local populace. 23

24 Being Poloné in Haiti: Introduction As my fieldwork progressed, I found that stories about the Polish Presence in Haiti were becoming ever more central to my thesis. Being fully historical in nature, Michel-Rolph Trouillot s Silencing the Past: Power and the Production of History (1995) was immensely helpful in putting the Poloné-Ayisyen narrative in a theoretically historical context. In the production of history, Trouillot sees... power [a]s constitutive of the story (1995:28). Silencing the Past mainly deals with... the many ways in which the production of historical narratives involves the uneven contribution of competing groups and individuals who have unequal access to the means for such production (Trouillot 1995: xix). However,... what makes some narratives rather than others powerful enough to pass as accepted history if not historicity itself? If history is merely the story told by those who won, how did they win in the first place? And why don t all winners tell the same story? (1995:6). Perhaps I am not so much concerned with Trouillot s focus on power and silences in this particular historical production. It is rather the flip-side of the coin that I am interested in. I will focus on what Trouillot calls the mentions (the utterances) of the various historical narratives of the past two hundred years. For the Poloné-Ayisyens and their Polish progenitors never really had the power to produce their own historical narrative outside of their own specific localised community. Indeed, although they were winners in a certain sense they backed the winning horse as it were-, their lack of written artefacts, their inability to take control of the archives of their own history, has rendered them incapable of reproducing their own history to the outside world, especially the historical guild. Because of this lack of power, it seems the historical guild (the historians, researchers, journalists Haitian as well as foreign) have taken the Polonés story out of their own hands. In the case of the Poloné-Ayisyen historical narrative, I believe that several events have had a profound effect on how the Poloné- Ayisyens and their history have been seen and interpreted. Thus, following Trouillot again, I will concentrate on... determining not what history is a hopeless goal if phrased in essentialist termsbut how history works. For what history is changes with time and place or, better said, history reveals itself only through the production of specific narratives... (Trouillot 1995:25). In a vein closely connected to Trouillot s understanding of narrative production, Cohen (1989) has attempted to overcome the rigidity of thinking with which oral tradition has often been approached. I found an analogy in his paper explaining the fluid, unceremonious, everyday manner in which knowledge of the past in Busoga society is organised, with the off-hand way in which the Cazaliens express their history. Relevance One may wonder who is actually dying of suspense, waiting for a story about some freakish anomaly in the colonial history of the Caribbean? My use of various discussions and treatments of Afro- American history of culture, leads me to believe that I could inject some new blood into perspectives 24