La Négritude

La Négritude: a term that derives from the French version of nigger, négre. Now, however, it is the name of a movement in which blacks around the world come together and form a unified appreciation for being black, the black diaspora and the history, destiny and power of black culture that began in the 1920-1930's. There are three "Fathers" of the negritude movement: Aimé Cesair, the Martiniquan born, Paris educated author, politican and poet, Senagalese preseident Léopold Sédar Senghor and Guianan Léon Damas. The three find solidarity in one thing as founders of the movement-- rejection of French racism. They wrote in a contemporary realist style and faught together French domination and hegemony. The movement was heavily influenced by the Harlem Renaissance, and many of the leaders of both movements met in Paris together with leaders of the Spanish-speaking Caribbean movement negrismo.

The three fathers were from different French colonies or territories in Africa and the Caribbean, but met in Paris in the 1930's. There they discovered that their countries were much less developed than the metropole, and that they were still territories or colonies, and they were being discriminated against.

Cesaire was the first to incorporate the term "nergre" into negritude. He decided to stand up against the term, and to wear it proudly in his anti-racism movement. He believed in validating African history. Senghor and Cesaire never asked for freedom from France, instead they desired only to have equal power, say and influence on French politics.
Damas is known as the "enfant terrible" of the Negritude movement. His approach was much more militant and he rejected any and all "western" influence.

Babyy

clever hiding spot from the rain

No racial tension here.

Needless to say, this movement has been a huge part of any and all classes I have taken at this university. Aime Cesaire is the only voice that has stood up against French colonization and imperialism for Martinique, and most of the Caribbean. He came back to be an important politician, and asked people to see how gravely mistreated they were. However, like so many great leaders, his ideas were twisted and turned into anti-white, anti-France political theories, and not much change can be seen.

Every teacher talks about the movement. Chali, a black/Indian from Martinique, has obvious distaste for the "becais" or, white Martiniquans. He blaims the underdeveloped status of Martinique on them, the lack of change on them and, obviously, his own financial, economic or other random problems on them. He believes in moving, changing and progressing as one country, one identity, he claims, but also draws and OBVIOUS divide between himself and the white locals. Apparently, the white locals are extremely exclusive, wealthy and direct descendants of French colonists. What's not to hate I guess? Unfortunately, the hate then becomes unfocused, and as it brews inside the people here, it becomes stronger and less tactful.

Some say everyone has to mix to end the racial problem here.
Others say Martinique needs to be freed from France.
No one knows what the fuck is going on, or how to fix it.

It's amazing to be here, to see the vigor and passion that some teachers have for Martinique, and to think and presume that it's all in vain-- they're fucked. It's great to be in class with a teacher who hates you, for your history, heritage, clothes, skin etc but can't let it out.

Needless to say, things are going swimmingly!! Classes have JUST settled (hopefully), French is coming along, and plans are getting bigger, braver and closer.

We might buy a car! Martinique with out a car is impossible-- buses run late, if they run at all, taxis are undependable and charge white people too much and boats don't always run on schedule either.
Excellent.
Besides that, school is good. I haven't had much work, which kind of makes me nervous. I will certainly not have any 10 hour trips to the library. I can't say I miss it yet, but it is odd having nothing to do. Beach trips are still frequent and money is flying faster than it should (yes, we use Euro here and everything is more expensive than in France because it's all imported FML).

Christos Loves Kitties

I am in a class about the French dissertation. That's their method of writing a paper. It's extremely detailed and painful. Certain words are used for transition, points have to be made in certain places (and have they better be the points the teacher wants to see) and our 5 paragraph system just doesn't compare. You can't just come back to a point later, or reiterate something down the line. As a comparison, I would say the French system is much less demanding because you're simply regurgitating the dictations teachers gave you during class. However, it is more tedious and they expect exact detail. Downer.

Foreign friends are being made left and right, as well as a few Martiniquans and French military. The friends I have here are incredible. Their extremely talented with languages, as well as so many other things. They have great perspectives, presence and intellect. I learn so much from this place and them, and I am thrilled to leave this place with 5 or 6 really great new friends. This weekend we are taking a trip to the south, to what has been said to be the most beautiful beaches in the world!

Packing Heat

It's February!

In Martinique, that means an end to dry season, and a quick transition into the wet season. Seeing as it's almost every day in the three weeks I've been here, I'm not quite sure what to expect. All I know is the sun stays out longer and hits harder these days, Martiniquan summer is well on its way.




Classes are well underway. Unfortunately, my schedule is still changing and changing back. It's incredibly difficult to pick courses here, and once you do you're lucky if your schedule stays the same. I'm now taking Karate for credit (awesome), French and French speaking negritude literature, as well as a few other different ones. Books are impossible to find and in high demand-- so that's tricky. Instead of trying to figure it out I'm just going to sit back, relax and use being foreign as an excuse. From what I've seen, being foreign doesn't buy you much mercy. From anyone. Students laugh and ridicule in class, teachers exploit any foreigners inability to communicate well. Not all experiences have been like that, but some have been pretty traumatic for us foreign kids. I've gotten over my problem with looking dumb, being ridiculed or exploited-- I'm foreign, my French is getting better, and you live on a tiny rock in the sea. The reason for the animosity is a complicated one....

our friends who threw coconut nuts at the honkies

Martinique is a bizarre, unstable place. It is the perfect example of how fundamentally fucked up colonization is/was. Basically, Martinique is still a colony. They work under French rule, go to school under French rule and suffer under French rule. This place is poor. The houses are shoddy, the places are unsafe. There buildings look run down, campus looks like an abandoned ghost town. As if, with proper care, it could be beautiful, but instead it's just forgotten. Everything is too expensive because it's imported from France. They use the Euro but the benefit is limited. Also, of the 400,000 Martiniquans who live here, 3,000 are white, direct descendants of the colonizers. They own everything, and never mix with their black countrymen. So, there is a racial segregation/prejudice, contempt for whites for being wealthy, contempt of France for owning them, love of France for keeping them and love of saying they are French. Most people are ambivalent in the we-are-we-aren't-French war. Others have radical extremes. This island is a tortured soul-- beautiful and interesting but the victim of a serious identity crisis and, inevitably, self destruction. And all the while I'm in class trying to understand exactly what they're saying, never mind why they feel so strongly.

Ugh, classes.
Monday is awful with class all day, but every day after that I finish at 1230 and am usually off to the beach. The last two days we've watched the sunset over at the beach and continued the night somewhere else with fellow foreigners and their friends. It's been a great routine so far. We have big plans-- buying a car between us, going to volcanoes, rowing, kayaking and things of the like. Weekends are big days for us.

Last weekend was a big weekend for us. Ines, Carin and I spent Saturday in Trois Ilets, a touristy beach are about a 30 minute ferry ride from Fort-de-France. On the boat, we spotted some army men who live on a base here which we are determined to befriend. The beach was incredible, the water was breathtaking, and I got pinched by a crab.







The next day was the preview of Carnaval. Ines and I spent the whole day tromping around the parade site with cameras in hand, and then met up with the Dominicans. During the day everything was perfect--good vibes, laid back people. It was what I had expected of the Caribbean. When the sun started to set, everything shifted suddenly. Drunken men started to outnumber anything else. People became more agitated and aggressive. It was like the St. Paddy's day in Chicago, except all day, with no police, no barriers and if pot was legal--mayhem. By this time we've met up with the Dominicans and they're professors, native Martiniquaise. Once the parade suddenly stops and people seem confused, the professors rush us away. A fight broke out and we had to go. Naturally, we take refuge in a near by McDonalds, which has a large, security man as a bouncer. We wait paitiently for our turn to enter, as others push and prompt the security guard. As we're allowed in, and the door shuts, people scream and cry as a near by tear gas tag lets smoke into the building. Throats burned, eyes cried. Sweet. The security guard started letting babies in to seek refuge.





That's not it. Even more drunk, apparently very hungry men came up to the security guard, looking angry and ready to throw down for some McD's. Later we discovered that they were on a man hunt for the bleeding guy in the bathroom. More police arrived, and bleeding guy, victim of a stab wound in his leg (which I couldn't get a picture of, sorry) was held hostage in the restaurant. As one could see, people outside wanted him dead.

After the tear gas cleared and bleeding guy left, we got on our way. The teachers showed us around the island, told us never to go out alone at night, always to take a taxi, and repeated several times that I was white and would never blend in.

Thanks.

So everything is going exceptionally well. Classes will come together, and taking 3 lit classes has already improved my french. Befriending more and more foreigners has been great too-- someone is always up to do something. And as german Christian put it, the people here are family oriented and so, on weekends, the campus is nearly dead. Besides that meeting the canadians at the beach or at night has helped my speaking as well. They speak english, we speak french. It's a win-win.