Point of departure: a seminar on the decolonization of knowledge.
"When I write, I know most French readers just won't understand me at all, but I write for this imaginary public and that's my ultimate source of motivation." Professor Seloua said (my paraphrase, comments later, I guess).
It was after her seminar for the International College of Philosophy (Collège Internationale de philosophie) called "La décolonisation des savoirs et la théorie voyageuse", when everyone went for drinks in a café-bar near the center. Seloua said she felt at home with us, a group of students and friends, a mixed group of minority. She was right: we had an Algerian (a Kabyle, actually) with his German wife, one French of Guadeloupe heritage, one of Angolan heritage, and a native Haitian.
I was the only Asian, and (worse yet) completely ignorant of the French colonial history. I went to the seminar mainly because in January my dad sent me an email telling me about a French professor who held a two-day seminar in China, offering a post-colonial perspective/reading of the Enlightenment. I cried out when I found out that the professor hails from the very institution my exchange program has a partnership with. So I almost only went to the seminar t to meet Seloua in person and told her that I had read reports of her seminar on Southern Weekly a few months back. "Small world!"
I realize I have the tendency to ascribe much charm to intellectuals even when I don't appreciate their opinions, and I confess that I don't know much about Seloua's academic work. But I did fall for her personal charm immediately. It was a good night, and for the first time I partook of a conversation comprised almost entirely of people from former colonies. I learned a lot. (If there was anything important I learned from my trip to Nepal, it's the realization that I need to look beyond Europe and the States for inspiration.)
"Haiti is the only independent country (apart from the Dominican Republic, which formerly belonged to Spain, not France) out of all the Antillean regions, that's why I'll be able to play a part in our own politics later."
There's an element of pride in Jean's remark. (But I refrained from asking Jean about his country's current situation the first time of our meeting, and) the fact remains that history of former colonies in France isn't taught exactly the way Jean would have wanted it to be. Two specific points of interest from our brief early Haitian history session (and note this is Jean's version of Haitian history, and I have yet to get to know him more):
1. The complicated nature of mixed-race (les mulâtres) leaders during the Haitian revolution. Slave revolt existed in different forms well before the French Revolution, but always as confrontation between the white colonists and black slaves. The free mixed-race class didn't seem too concerned about their fellow slaves' fate. After the French Revolution in France proper, however, the right of the free mixed-race class was not recognized by the National Assembly for fear of possible slave revolt. Les mulâtres, finding themselves in their new unfavorable situation, in direct conflict with the white dominating class, turned to the black slaves and participated in the Haitian Revolution.
2. The conflict between two groups of leaders of the Haitian Revolution. Slave mortality was high and new slaves were constantly needed to meet the demand. (Saint Domingue was the most prosperous colony in the Caribbean region then.) These newly arrived slaves of direct African heritage (les bossales) were much less submissive than their fellow slaves born in Americas. Les bossales and les mulâtres form the two leading forces during the Revolution but they didn't necessarily agree with each other on many things. In official French history textbooks, les bossales are rarely mentioned, and les mulâtres' (in Jean's perception) dubious participation in the freedom cause — Toussaint L'Ouverture's deals with the British, for example — isn't elaborated.
"When I write, I know most French readers just won't understand me at all, but I write for this imaginary public and that's my ultimate source of motivation." Professor Seloua said (my paraphrase, comments later, I guess).
It was after her seminar for the International College of Philosophy (Collège Internationale de philosophie) called "La décolonisation des savoirs et la théorie voyageuse", when everyone went for drinks in a café-bar near the center. Seloua said she felt at home with us, a group of students and friends, a mixed group of minority. She was right: we had an Algerian (a Kabyle, actually) with his German wife, one French of Guadeloupe heritage, one of Angolan heritage, and a native Haitian.
I was the only Asian, and (worse yet) completely ignorant of the French colonial history. I went to the seminar mainly because in January my dad sent me an email telling me about a French professor who held a two-day seminar in China, offering a post-colonial perspective/reading of the Enlightenment. I cried out when I found out that the professor hails from the very institution my exchange program has a partnership with. So I almost only went to the seminar t to meet Seloua in person and told her that I had read reports of her seminar on Southern Weekly a few months back. "Small world!"
I realize I have the tendency to ascribe much charm to intellectuals even when I don't appreciate their opinions, and I confess that I don't know much about Seloua's academic work. But I did fall for her personal charm immediately. It was a good night, and for the first time I partook of a conversation comprised almost entirely of people from former colonies. I learned a lot. (If there was anything important I learned from my trip to Nepal, it's the realization that I need to look beyond Europe and the States for inspiration.)
***
There's an element of pride in Jean's remark. (But I refrained from asking Jean about his country's current situation the first time of our meeting, and) the fact remains that history of former colonies in France isn't taught exactly the way Jean would have wanted it to be. Two specific points of interest from our brief early Haitian history session (and note this is Jean's version of Haitian history, and I have yet to get to know him more):
1. The complicated nature of mixed-race (les mulâtres) leaders during the Haitian revolution. Slave revolt existed in different forms well before the French Revolution, but always as confrontation between the white colonists and black slaves. The free mixed-race class didn't seem too concerned about their fellow slaves' fate. After the French Revolution in France proper, however, the right of the free mixed-race class was not recognized by the National Assembly for fear of possible slave revolt. Les mulâtres, finding themselves in their new unfavorable situation, in direct conflict with the white dominating class, turned to the black slaves and participated in the Haitian Revolution.
2. The conflict between two groups of leaders of the Haitian Revolution. Slave mortality was high and new slaves were constantly needed to meet the demand. (Saint Domingue was the most prosperous colony in the Caribbean region then.) These newly arrived slaves of direct African heritage (les bossales) were much less submissive than their fellow slaves born in Americas. Les bossales and les mulâtres form the two leading forces during the Revolution but they didn't necessarily agree with each other on many things. In official French history textbooks, les bossales are rarely mentioned, and les mulâtres' (in Jean's perception) dubious participation in the freedom cause — Toussaint L'Ouverture's deals with the British, for example — isn't elaborated.
No comments:
Post a Comment