“Rethinking the Caribbean:
An Introductory Course on Caribbean Literature”IRSC Students: In Spring 2022, I will be teaching an exciting course: “Introduction to Caribbean Literature (Lit 2190);” we will follow the synchronous model (online), and the class will meet online on Tuesdays, from 5:30 PM-6:45 PM. This course is an exploration of Caribbean literature within the cultural context and historical events (i.e. slavery, colonization, imperialism) that have shaped the Caribbean nations and their people.

“Rethinking the Caribbean:
An Introductory Course on Caribbean Literature”

#IRSC Students: In Spring 2022, I will be teaching an exciting course: “Introduction to Caribbean Literature (Lit 2190);” we will follow the synchronous model (online), and the class will meet online on Tuesdays, from 5:30 PM-6:45 PM. This course is an exploration of Caribbean literature within the cultural context and historical events (i.e. slavery, colonization, imperialism) that have shaped the Caribbean nations and their people.

We will be reading novels, poetry, plays, and academic essays to inform our understanding of the birth and development of Caribbean literature, as well as to get a better perspective on issues relating to regional identity and culture, nationalism, postcolonialism, poverty, economic challenges, environmental issues, etc. The course will explore different theories of Caribbean Literature. We will be reading both classic and contemporary Caribbean writers and explore the major ideas of the Caribbean thinkers and theorists that have shaped our understanding of the Region and its literary expression.

Since this is a survey course, students will be introduced to the works of the most influential Caribbean writers, including Claude McKay, C. L. R. James, Aimé Césaire, Patrick Chamoiseau, Frantz Fanon, Earl Lovelace, Sylvia Wynter, Edward Kamau Brathwaite, Derek Walcott, George Lamming, Jean Rhys, Wilson Harris, Marie Vieux-Chauvet, René Philoctète, René Depestre, Edwidge Danticat, Myriam J.A. Chancy, Sam Selvon, Jean Price-Mars, Jacques Roumain, V.S. Naipaul, Jan Carew, Edouard Glissant, Maryse Condé, Paul Marshall, Antonio Benitez-Rojo, Nicolás Guillén, Junot Diaz, Julia Alvarez, Silvio Torres-Saillant, etc.

Required Texts for the Course:

1. Allison Donnell and Sarah Lawrence Welsh, editors, “The Routledge Reader in Caribbean Literature, (Routledge, 1996). ISBN-13 ‏: ‎ 978-0415120494
2. Edwidge Danticat, “The Farming of Bones” (Soho Press, 2013). ISBN-13 ‏: ‎ 978-1616953492

• There will be several essays assigned and two films to watch.
  *The course is open to non-IRSC and transient students.

“9 Reasons to HOPE!

1. Hope moves us forwards.
   It’s an impetus, a movement, a gentle nudge that moves us from one state to the next. It’s the horizon that begins to appear once the haze has cleared. It’s the goal post which is all we need to start mapping out all that we seek. It’s the fork in the road of past and present versus future, which way do I go?
2. Hope inspires us… Through the stories of triumph.
   The roadmap of someone’s journey, of their experiences, of their hero’s journey. Hope gifted to us by others human beings, by warriors, by survivors. Their stories are what show us what is possible when everything seems impossible. That if they can do it, I can do it too.
3. Hope lets us dream…
   Of a life different to the one we live, of a feeling different to the one we feel. It lets us dream of a chapter closing and of a story that’s about to begin. It’s our ‘Once upon a time…’ Our purpose coming to life, a reason to live, our reason for being that makes sense to the world that’s spinning.
4. Hope makes us strong.
   When we feel weak, unable to get up, to begin again, that we’ve overcome this, that we’ve beaten the beast of depression, anxiety, loneliness…etc. It’s shows us that we can do it all over again. That we can win. That we can be happy. That we can love. That we can find strength because we’ve been here before, we’ve even been through worse.
5. Hope lightens the load.
   Amidst all the heaviness. It’s the slither of air that we breathe when our lungs feel tight. It’s the moment of respite, the glimmer of hope, the crack of light in the shadow. It’s what for a moment makes us float when we feel weighed down by our mental shackles.
6. Hope manifests for us… It creates, it flows, it dances with synchronicity. It lays unseen foundations. It turns what’s in our hearts into reality. It’s the bridge between our dreams and our world. It’s the energy that runs through us. It’s the unexplainable transformation that was once a distant thought.
7. Hope makes us believe in something.
   Some call it God, others universe or source. It makes us believe that there is something, somewhere out there, working with us, helping us, guiding us. It makes us believe that at some point the suffering will end and that we will find peace. That somewhere within there is a stillness waiting to be found.
8. Hope is a reminder.
   A reminder that we are still fighting, that we haven’t given up, that there is still a chance. A chance that we can change things, can turn things around, can find a way out, a different outcome. That if we look deep down, there is a speck of something that if we give it our attention might begin to shine brighter.
9. Hope is contagious.
   It grabs us and pulls us in. It whispers maybe in our mind and quells the tremors in our heart. It makes us declare, put a stake in the ground and say “I will to, find a way through.” It’s the rally, the cry, the collective fight for another day to survive.

Courtesy of From Trauma to Triumph”

Source: Raphael Akhijemen Idialu

“The Beautiful Ones Are Yet to be Born: Rethinking Haiti’s Literary and Intellectual Traditions”

I am wrapping up a book review on Haiti for an academic journal. I admire the intellectual rigor and analytical approach of the book, and the writer is a friend. I appreciate the author’s scholarship, especially the significant contributions made to Haitian studies and Haitian literature. Overall, I agree with the general thesis of the book; yet I disagree with the author’s (mis-)interpretation of early nineteenth century Haitian literature and (mis-)representation of early nineteenth century Haitian intellectual history. For example, the writer construes the birth of Haitian literature not as a reaction to French (colonial and intellectual) detractors and Western racism, as well as a protest to the institution of slavery, imperialism, and French colonialism in Saint-Domingue-Haiti; rather, the author argues brilliantly and forcefully (and almost convincingly 😊) that Haitian literature developed in the context of a textual warfare among Haitian writers and intellectuals themselves. This position is integral to what I phrase the “national disunity” and “ideological discord” thesis prevalent in Anglophone scholarship on Haitian thought and literary production.

By any means am I suggesting that Haitian writers and intellectuals have produced a monolithic or homogeneous narrative about Haiti’s national history and intellectual productions since the birth of the state of Haiti (see my books, “From Toussaint to Price-Mars: Rhetoric, Race, and Religion in Haitian Thought” [2013], and “Revolutionary Change and Democratic Religion: Christianity, Vodou, and Secularism” [2020]). By contrary, one could say that Haitian literature is a literature of combat and protest within the Black Atlantic radical literary tradition, and that pluralism and difference in ideas and expression do not necessarily mean or lead to national disunity and intellectual conflict in the nation.

Further, in this excellent book, there is no mention of the birth of Haiti’s robust Patriotic literary tradition in the first half of the nineteenth century nor did the author address the blossoming of a rich intellectual heritage in the nineteenth century in Haiti that challenge the thesis of the book; both traditions anticipated and could be labelled in today’s academic jargons postcolonialism/postcoloniality and decolonialism/decoloniality, as well as anti-racist and anti-imperial. Nonetheless, the book is groundbreaking and well-researched, and I foresee it will generate many scholarly debates in the future. People should take the time to read carefully and responsibly the author’s basic premises and ideological presuppositions to really grasp the author’s bold claims and reading of the relationship between politics and literature in Haiti’s national history.

*** Good books and ideas have a special way to recreate a nation and regenerate citizens. Thus, (published) words on paper have to be written with care and sensibility because language is fragile and human beings are complex entities. The goal of writing is not to achieve fame and heighten one’s reputation in the world of academia. The implications of an idea or a piece of well-written work could produce monsters and good people in society, respectively. Literary and intellectual productions do have both a moral and an ethical aspect, as writers attempt to persuade, inform, entertain, and call people into action in society, as well as transform the order of things in the world so human beings can live peacefully, harmoniously, and in candid relations with each other. Ideas and written works should produce more beauty and sustain better relationships in the world.

In my review of the book, I tried to be ethically honest, charitable, and objective, not harsh and combative toward the writer nor the claims made in this beautifully-written and important text. I despise this model of scholarship that creates alienation and division among scholars and people. I cherish my friendship over ideas. I understand the fragility of losing friends because of competing ideas and perspectives. However, I believe that it is an ethical responsibility of a good and honest scholar and intellectual to refute dangerous and bad ideas that will drive people away from the truth and will not help foster the common good and human flourishing in the world. Also, I understand that ideas have consequences, and they are also both transformative in the negative sense and liberative in the positive sense. I wrote a 12-page-review of the book, which surpassed the required 1,500-word limit. I need to cut a lot of words. So, help me Lord Jesus Christ! 😊

Where were you on September 11, 2001?

*** On that day, I was still in College, following a course lecture: Introduction to New Testament II (If my memory is right?). It was my last semester in College to get my B.A. degree. I remember the entire school evacuated, and we were commanded to stand outside of our classrooms. Some of us went to the lawn, others in the street across the school. All classes were cancelled for the rest of the day. We were in shock. Anxiety overwhelmed us. Fear and terror shook our world and our existence. It was an awful day, a tragic moment. It seemed like things were falling apart; in fact, things did fall apart on that day.

Some of us went to the Chapel to cry and pray, and to be healed and restored; yet healing was not instantaneous because restoration of the soul, our inner being, could take days, months, even years. Sometimes, we experience death before healing; for some, death is the way to ultimate healing and the path to total restoration.

That was 20 yrs ago. I was a 23 yr-old young man.

Call for Papers: “Religions for Peace, Democracy, and Mutual Understanding: Vodou & Christianity in Interreligious Dialogue”
by Drs. Celucien L. Joseph, Charlene Désir, and Lewis A. Clormeus (eds)

Extended Deadline: September 23, 2021

To learn more about this project, click on the link below:

https://haitithenandnow.wordpress.com/2021/07/03/call-for-papers-september-3-2021-religions-for-peace-democracy-and-mutual-understanding-vodou-and-christianity-in-interreligious-dialogue/