The final chapter of the novel, self-titled "The Dew Breaker", gives the account of a revolutionary Haitian pastor and the Dew Breaker's relationship which resulted from his unorthodox message. Until the final chapter, religion in the novel is more of a backdrop than a critically engaged field. Ka's mother is a devout Catholic and believes very much in the occurrence of miracles, and goes to mass as an acknowledgement of the change in her husband's life. Beyond that the novel remains quiet about the use--and misuse--of theology in Haiti.
"The Dew Breaker" chapter gives a bit of context to how the dictatorship had re-vamped elements of churches to endorse the political powers. The "Lord's Prayer", for example, used the word "father" as synonymous with "dictator", and asks that the anti-patriotic--conceivably, people such as the pastor--"succumb to the weight of their own venom." The newer government version of the prayer is focused on the will of the "father in the National Palace" and his struggle against instigators (185).
The Dew Breaker himself has a more post-colonial interpretation of religion. His criticism begins as part of a personal bias, as he is Catholic and the pastor he is going to kill is Baptist (Protestant). Thoughts on modes of dress and "symbols that could easily be misinterpreted" give way to a singularly profound idea; Christianity originally came as a tool of dominance to the original slaves to the region (188). Slave masters focused on passages of scripture to keep their servants in good behavior, and through such efforts the Bible had be used as a spiritual basis to disenfranchise groups of imported peoples. Although the Dew Breaker doesn't realize it, in much the same way it is being actively used by the government of Haiti, with a different focus. Under the dictatorship, the people are assured of the president's immortality and infallibility by the "Lord's Prayer" which replaces "father" for "Father". It also implies that resistance will be met with eventual reckoning and failure. Despite the presidential acquisition of colonial methods of dominance to keep the people under heel, the Dew Breaker is insistent on his role: by killing the pastor, he will be alleviating the oppression the local populace has suffered under Christianity in general. By freeing them from their spiritual leader/oppressor, they will be able to revert to the "creeds carried over the ocean by forbears"--the spirituality of their enslaved ancestors (188). His vision for the spiritual future of Bel-Air by revitalizing the traditional spirituality is based in part on an attempt to "create all sorts of evil tales" about "people he didn't know", yet by doing so he misses the intention of the pastor's recent sermons (193).
The pastor sees his message as a form of unshackling for his congregation. He reverses the deification of the "father at the National Palace" and instead unites his listeners under the rallying cry "and what will we do with our our beast (185)?" His final sermon, rather than a theological discussion, focuses on remembering the people the government had killed--particularly, his wife. Danticat's words echos those of Jose Arcadio Segundo from Marquez's 100 Years of Solitude: "there were more than three thousand of them", referring to the people killed in a labor strike in the novel (337)." Both the pastor and Segundo attempt to awaken and remind the living that the oppression of their respective governments is manifest in deaths. Likewise, Danticat and Marquez use these stories to educate and recall historic events and figures in Caribbean/South American history. Marquez focuses on the Santa Marta Massacre as his object of memory, trying to keep the slaughter of striking workers from being forgotten. Danticat, by mentioning a Baptist preacher who tried to incite the people to change, is recalling the Jamaican minister Samuel Sharpe. Sharpe had rallied the slaves in Montenegro Bay of Jamaica and led them as they petitioned the local British colonial government for emancipation. After a week of rebellion, the uprising was routed and Sharpe was cited and hung for his role. His efforts are remembered in currency, general history, and alluded to in Bob Marley's "Redemption Song". ("How long will they kill our prophets / while we stand aside and look?") Although the two authors--Danticat and Marquez--focus on seperate events, they are both trying to recount events which are pivotal in an accurate cultural account of a people. Just as the preacher spoke of his wife's poisoning as both a catharsis and rallying point, so also Danticat recounts historic troubles in Haitian/Carribean history to preserve a unified memory.
It is through the efforts of the author to call upon a history which has as many little-remembered figures as traumas that a greater awareness of the depth behind the political oppression in Haiti (and the rest of the Carribean) and the attempts to liberate the populace can eventually be acknowledged.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Spring Break Package Included
Throughout the novel The Dew Breaker, the reader is ushered through a loosely connected series of accounts by various Haitian men and women. Each of the central characters have glaring troubles associated with their home country, whether it be paranoia of past torturers, burns and blindness, or even that of being pigeonholed into an unsavory occupation. All of the Haitian accounts are similar in this regard, except for the actress Gabrielle Fonteneau. She is one who has achieved blinding success despite the woeful political state Haiti is in and the traumatic effects which have touched every Haitian except her.
Her yard is lavishly decorated, with exotic landscaping. The house itself is made not only of mere brick, but coral--and it takes up an entire cul-de-sac. But what first made makes the reader question the authenticity of Gabrielle is the interior: the huge living room is "covered with Haitian paintings with subjects ranging from market scenes and first communions to weddings and wakes" (28). The first thing a visitor sees of the interior is a variety of Haitian art--art which is exclusively Haitian, but does not have a theme beyond that singular ethnic trait. The overuse of Haitian painting in the first room of the Fonteneau house implies a surface-oriented relationship with the culture. This is furthered by Gabrielle's conversation near the end of the chapter; she is only concerned with Ka as part of her efforts to secure more art, and upon finding that the piece was not available, she is curt and direct: "We're done, then...I have to make a call. Enjoy the rest of your day (29)."
But Gabrielle's disconnect with Haitian culture isn't only shown in design tastes. Her parents noted a place "in the mountains of Jacmel" as a yearly getaway from the United States (29). They describe it in almost heavenly tones--"the rain is sweeter, the dust lighter, our beaches prettier" --as if Haiti was the only place to have such qualities (30). But statements such as the Fonteneau's imply a similar surface relationship with their culture; what of the political troubles which are so pressing they manifest themselves in the entire cast? Simply put, the Fonteneau's see Jacmel, not Haiti. The Dew Breaker mentions their estate is in the mountains, which are portrayed in the tale of Dany as a beautiful escape from the corrupt city life of Port-au-Prince. Even in Dany's account the place is tinged with sadness, however, as his parents were killed and his aunt burnt by the dew breaker. There is no escape, even in the relative seclusion of a poor mountain farming town. But in Jacmel, the Fonteneau's have found a quaint luxury which few in Haiti can find: the tourist timeshare. Jacmel is a city defined by its large tourist industry, and it is here--in the mountains and beaches of rich visiting families--that a person could avoid the trauma associated with national identity. Simply put, while the Fonteneau's have come from Haiti, they are not Haitian. Gabrielle, while labeled a successful Haitian actress, is merely filling a cultural role and has no real ties with her place of origin. She is utterly American, and part of a rich upper class which would never have a run-in with a dew breaker (unlike the rest of the characters) and hence would never know there was more beyond that of her carved-out piece of Haiti famous for its ethnic handicrafts...which could fill her living room.
The grand irony of the Fonteneau's idealism and disconnect is embodied fully in the final passage of their recollection of Haiti:
"'There's nothing like sinking your hand in sand from the beach in you own country,' Mrs. Fonteneau is saying...
I imagine my father's nightmares. Maybe he dreams of dipping his hands in the sand on a beach in his own country and finding that what he comes up with is a fistful of blood (30)."
Her yard is lavishly decorated, with exotic landscaping. The house itself is made not only of mere brick, but coral--and it takes up an entire cul-de-sac. But what first made makes the reader question the authenticity of Gabrielle is the interior: the huge living room is "covered with Haitian paintings with subjects ranging from market scenes and first communions to weddings and wakes" (28). The first thing a visitor sees of the interior is a variety of Haitian art--art which is exclusively Haitian, but does not have a theme beyond that singular ethnic trait. The overuse of Haitian painting in the first room of the Fonteneau house implies a surface-oriented relationship with the culture. This is furthered by Gabrielle's conversation near the end of the chapter; she is only concerned with Ka as part of her efforts to secure more art, and upon finding that the piece was not available, she is curt and direct: "We're done, then...I have to make a call. Enjoy the rest of your day (29)."
But Gabrielle's disconnect with Haitian culture isn't only shown in design tastes. Her parents noted a place "in the mountains of Jacmel" as a yearly getaway from the United States (29). They describe it in almost heavenly tones--"the rain is sweeter, the dust lighter, our beaches prettier" --as if Haiti was the only place to have such qualities (30). But statements such as the Fonteneau's imply a similar surface relationship with their culture; what of the political troubles which are so pressing they manifest themselves in the entire cast? Simply put, the Fonteneau's see Jacmel, not Haiti. The Dew Breaker mentions their estate is in the mountains, which are portrayed in the tale of Dany as a beautiful escape from the corrupt city life of Port-au-Prince. Even in Dany's account the place is tinged with sadness, however, as his parents were killed and his aunt burnt by the dew breaker. There is no escape, even in the relative seclusion of a poor mountain farming town. But in Jacmel, the Fonteneau's have found a quaint luxury which few in Haiti can find: the tourist timeshare. Jacmel is a city defined by its large tourist industry, and it is here--in the mountains and beaches of rich visiting families--that a person could avoid the trauma associated with national identity. Simply put, while the Fonteneau's have come from Haiti, they are not Haitian. Gabrielle, while labeled a successful Haitian actress, is merely filling a cultural role and has no real ties with her place of origin. She is utterly American, and part of a rich upper class which would never have a run-in with a dew breaker (unlike the rest of the characters) and hence would never know there was more beyond that of her carved-out piece of Haiti famous for its ethnic handicrafts...which could fill her living room.
The grand irony of the Fonteneau's idealism and disconnect is embodied fully in the final passage of their recollection of Haiti:
"'There's nothing like sinking your hand in sand from the beach in you own country,' Mrs. Fonteneau is saying...
I imagine my father's nightmares. Maybe he dreams of dipping his hands in the sand on a beach in his own country and finding that what he comes up with is a fistful of blood (30)."
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