[NOTE: The scene is lit by a single oil lamp at night. It begins in darkness, but the lamp is soon moved closer, illuminating Maman's figure.I suggest watching full screen for full effect.]
My child's granmè Dieumène occupies a 2-room shack in Ladomate, in the Plateau Central (Région Centre) of Ayiti. She opens and closes each day with song and praise. Here is her closing offering the night of Feb. 18, 2010, seemingly addressing my then recent stomach illness.
She opens with "Gen malad isit, Seyè" ("There is a sick person [sickness] here, oh Lord". ..."You are the Good Doctor, cure us without [the need for] money..."). This was the evening I returned from the hospital in Belladè. This song is no doubt resorted to frequently in the Haitian hinterlands. [Before I did decide to make the trip to the hospital, Maman attempted some folk medicine, involving alternately placing her hand in my armpit, then touching my nose with her finger. Believe me, I was ready for it to work, but alas, it did not - or in any case, not immediately.]
After some brief words, she sings "Ala m'kontan Jezi renmen mwen!" (How happy I am [that] Jesus loves me!). [According to a 2002 article in "Black Music Research Journal" by Prof. Melvin Butler of U. Chicago, Dieumène's extreme nasalization of words such as "mwen" is looked down upon among the "better" classes, and is heard mostly in out-of-the-way places like Ladomate.]
Seven year old granddaughter Lunda lays down to sleep nearby, and joins in. She will remember these little daily and nightly services her whole life, and maybe pass on the practice.
Next, Maman praises God, His works and His powers, until her concluding hymn, "Ou te pale pou lafanmi Laza yo. Pouki sa Ou pa pale pou mwen?" (You spoke for the family of Lazarus. Why don't You speak for me?)
Her final words are "I give you my hand... "
God's love and grace comes in all languages, beautiful.
24keren 2 years ago