Saturday, March 17, 2012

Quand tombent les masques

Memorandum from Ole G.-

For generations, the fundamental political theory in Ayiti has been, laissez-faire, and laissez-aller, plimen poul la, men pa kite l rele, (Ref: 1) and every now, and then, one or the other politician re-affirms this fact. Vide infra (see further on) an open letter, dated 3 February, 2012, drafted by a powerful elected Ayitian official whose identity I have verified, and whose name I have withheld. Daily, a stately masquerade ball is been held in Ayiti, after removing the masks, one must wonder, who we truly are?

Ref 1.-  Live and let live; do nothing policy.

Being under the tutelage of a bevy of boisterous linguists, rapporteurs, and international translators from: Martinique, Canada, Côte d' Ivoire, Ayiti, Belgium, Senegal, and France; prodded Ole G to embark in the colossal task, and the thankless folly, of translating this pertinent archival document from French to English. I have attempted to provide an acurate version of the original document, but due to the difficulties of translation (read my cretinism) slight differences may exist.

Notate bene: All typographical, and grammatical errors are from the original source, and therefore have not been corrected. Most of the argots, and  Kreyòl expressions, in the original document, are italicized, and were not subject to translation.

The translated bona fide missive, in its entirety, reads:

Port-au-Prince, 3 February, 2012

Open letter to the tent dwellers, and the squatters,

I have watched, and listened with great amusement to your rantings of  late about how to deal with your brutal, and abominable circumstances: aftershocks, hurricanes, torrential rains, high winds, floods, mudslides, seren la pli, epidemic diseases, famine, random acts of violence, no electricity or running water, criminal organizations, piles of trash etc, because of God only knows how, and why, you have managed to survive under the tents, and have even thrived as squatters in the too many to name shanties in the capital city (Port-au-Prince), and all I do is laugh, dance, travel first-class to visit foreign dignitaries, hold meetings, issue press releases, wheeling and dealing, and laugh some more. I laugh at your misery, because beyond pouring out your rising frustrations publicly on the air of Radio Caraibes, Signal FM, etc, and vociferating your grievances to those blan  christian evangelists , and missionaries, the real issue remains, what really can you possibly do? Jodia ma p di nou bagay.

You cannot defeat me, because you have overwhelmingly voted me into office, I am a VIP, a superstar, a megastar.

You cannot eradicate me, because deep down inside of your rotten selves, you revere, and idolise your almighty ngoti (dominion/master of your destiny). I am a guru of frivolous, and perilous intrigues. You try to revolt, and you will feel the weight of my personal military machine, call it what ever you want: FADH, makout, FRAPH, lame wouj, lame wòz, but one thing for sure, you will feel the heavy boots of my personal army, right on your spine, and mon colonel will chase you down, and maim you.

You cannot maul me, because I am here to control, I rule the zenglendos, the chimè, the GNB, the bandi legal &, ilegal, the san manman, the zobops, the gun toting thugs; I have corrupted your unscrupulous black intelligentsia, joined the ranks of the movers and shakers. I am a virus, a bacteria that devours your essence, and your psyche, you pathetic creatures harbor of being rich, and powerful, I am your reverie come true.

La mort des valeurs, I am steeped in vice, an obscene, lecherous, and unapologetic, Machiavellian lifetime adulterer, à la vue basse, I can hardly hide the toxicity of my international dalliances, my eternally repeated mantra: sans peur, sans valeur, et sans pudeur (without fear, values, or decency). In spite of it all, as an ipokrit katolik,  every Sunday, I sit in the VIP section of my church, and religiously receive la communion solennelle (solemn communion).

You cannot rub me out, I am here to usurp, I reside in your soul, nan nannan w, you admire my mansions, my fast cars, envy, and fantasize about my mistresses, concubines, and zonzons, wa p agace li ? I got 99 problems, but a fanm (concubine)  ain't one, nou pa gen pwoblem fanm.

You cannot understand me, because it would be like (comments withheld because of FCC regulations on Obscenity, Indecency & Profanity). I am all knowing, all seeing Illuminati, a baka, and a chaloska; if I issue an official decree for Champ de Mars, Place Boyer, Place Saint-Pierre etc, to be evacuated, you must oblige, seven hundred (700) Ayitian dola, is more than enough for you to pack up your tarps, and tin, your plastic buckets, and soil mats, to empty the most notorious camps in Port-au-Prince.

You can protest all that you want against corruption, la vi chè, mache nwa, you can sing day, and night about ♪♫ mayi ak diri pwoduy de-lix nan yon peyi ♫♪, you can throw rocks, set a couple of cars on fire, ki te mele dada m, I am a political beast, my love for money is far greater than my love for country, I love power so much that I have become power, incarnated, and incorporated.

Be tickled with your life, modern slaves, be cheery with your salary, the seventy (70) Ayitian gourdes per day,  ($ 2.00 USD daily)) that we so gracefully bestow upon you, for the twelve (12) hours shift of daily grind, you spend at Mickey Mouse's sweatshops.

Be blissful for the presence of over one thousand (1000) NGO's in Ayiti chérie, and be gratified for the farin mayi, lèt sinistre, and the pèpè that you have received from them; be satisfied with your position, your station, your status, mete w alèz with your caste, your peoples, your stratum, be delighted with the fact that you are still alive, and well-entertained by the tragi-comedy of the venal legislators that your emotions germinated.

I do not doubt the force of your unity though, but I know it will never come to fruition. My minions, and I, have witnessed how you have denigrated your culture, destroyed your patrimony, denied your roots, we have stirred a potent elixir of discords, hatreds, and mistrust amongst you.

Your slave masters' christian religion will not even permit you to fight me, and it has been a while since you have respectfully honoured your Afrikan lwas; for the past two (2) centuries, Ayiti has not produced men/women of valor, willing to fight, and die for her cause. Boukman's head was displayed for all to see, Mackandal was burned alive, Dessalines (founder of the nation) met his maker at Pont-Rouge, Capois-la-mort died up to his name, Henri I committed suicide, Charlemagne Péralte was crucified, and we all know, how you have demeaned the soul, and spirit of the valiant Marie Jeanne in triple xxx konpa songs.

Yes, I am a rapacious vulture, you have nicknamed me gran manjè, I have not denied this; lajan necesè se vre, l'occasion fait le larron, opportunity makes the thief. How about your personal avarice? if you were in my penny loafers, would you do less?

Mwen se milyonè, I can buy your louder, and smarter voices, weaken your camps, infiltrate your mouvman popilè, and arbitrarily arrest, exile, or bribe, your militant leaders, and community organizers.

Beniswa letènel.- Thank God.-

But make no mistakes about it, si pa malè, (if by a huge disaster), you get organised as to come after me, and if I perceive the slightest possibilities of the woulo konpresè (steam roller) succeeding; ma p jete m, ( I will flee) even if you close down Toussaint L'ouverture's International Airport, even if the Dominican Republic's border is closed, I have the contacts, mwen kon n moun, my family, my servile cohorts, and I can still acquire a passport, a laissez-passer, a sauf-conduit, a visa; apran n ke moun ki vwayaje nan avyon prive pa jan m pran refi . I will not sit passively, and watch you, kill me, I WILL RUN.

As of today, I do not see much danger emanating from you, rêveries historico, for now, make yourselves invisible, unless it is epòk kanaval or election day, in the meantime: laissez rouler les bons vieux temps...♫♪ kite konpa mache♫♪...let the good times roll.

Drawn in Port-au-Prince, Ayiti, Greater Antilles, this 3rd day of the month of February,  2012 in the year of our Lord.

Signed: xxxxx xxxxxxxx


  1. My friend!I have read the blog and found it a little disturbing but one thing for safety reason, why are you holding the author private. (an open letter, dated 3 February, 2012, drafted by a powerful elected Ayitian official whose identity I have verified, and whose name I have withheld). We need to work together for the sake of Haiti.

  2. Dear Ole G:

    As an eternal optimist, I would have probably thought that you were exaggerating, casting a dark cloud on an inexperienced administration still finding its way. But reading it today September 29 2012 I am awed by your accurate prognosis/analysis. But I would disagree quand meme with the notion that the Haitian people have accepted the abuses of charismatic,popular leaders. There are many local organizations which have been busy raising awareness and organizing, but who have been ignored. Thanks for your voice and your perspective