Traversée de la Mangrove

Le soleil s'était levé tout content, généreux. Le ciel était du bleu des promesses qui vont être tenues (1).

It was with great pleasure that I plunged into the intrigue of Maryse Condé's Traversée de la Mangrove. Set in the small community of Rivière au Sel in Basse Terre, Francis Sancher is a foreigner with unknown origins and uncertain intentions. The story actually begins with Sancher's death, and during the wake each inhabitant reflects on his or her own life. There is a aspect of a polar (or detective novel) in Traversée de la Mangrove, since the reader is obliged to discover the identity and the story of Francis Sancher through the testimonies of the other characters. Each character reveals only what they know and so, even at the very end of the book, much remains unanswered. Ultimately, however, the real identity of Francis Sancher is of minor importance. What is important is that his arrival, and subsequent death, rouse the inhabitants out of their torpor.

The story is wonderfully dense, and the characters live and breath on each page. Condé is generous in details and each character seems substantial enough to be protagonists in books of their very own. There is a real risk for a story to unravel and fray when an author employs multiple narrators, especially when each has such complicated histories. Condé's deft writing keeps the storyline tight, and the stories makes constant progress. There are no leisurely tangents and then a race to the finish.

Only those who have lived within the four walls of a small community know its meanness and its fear of the stranger (3).

If the relationships between characters provoke a sense of claustrophobia, it is not unintentional. The difficulties of relating, concentrated through isolation, seem ready to destroy the characters. This isolation is two-fold. As in all Caribbean writing, there is the isolation of living on an island. But, more immediate is the isolation of the small village, bordered by the dense vegetation of Basse Terre. Therefore as a group, the characters are isolated from the rest of the world. There is also racial/cultural isolation. There are the Lameaulenes, descendants of white plantation owners, or the Ramsarans, descendants of Indian indentured laborers, and the rest, various métis of black white, brown and yellow. Sancher embodies the stranger physically (he is assumed to come from some Spanish-speaking country), but also culturally. His appearance in Rivière au Sel disturbs the isolation. His life in Rivière au Sel brings agitation; his death becomes the catalyst for change.

It really is a wonderful book, and Condé is one of the few Antillais authors to be translated into English.





(1)The sun rose, happy, generous. The sky was blue of promises that would be kept.

(2)
Condé, Maryse. Traversée de la Mangrove. Paris: Mercure de France, 1989.





(3) Seul celui qui a vécu entre les quatre murs d'une petite communauté connaît sa mechanceté et sa peur de l'étranger.

Two Islands

As I mentioned in a very early post, Guadeloupe is actually composed of two islands, Grande Terre (the eastern 'wing') and Basse Terre (the western 'wing'). La Rivière Salée (the salty river). which is actually a very narrow strait between the Atlantic Ocean and the Caribbean Sea, separates the two islands. Basse Terre, composed entirely of volcanic rock, was formed by various volcanic activity. The oldest portions of the island are approximately 3.5 million years old, making Basse Terre relatively young. Grand Terre, composed mostly of limestone, was pushed above sea level by movements of the Atlantic and Caribbean tectonic plates. Grande Terre is more than 50 million years old.

It is often difficult to see that there are two distinct islands because the mangrove covers a substantial area at the two mouths of the strait (Grand Cul-de-Sac Marin to the north, and Petit Cul-de-Sac Marin to the south). However, looking carefully at a satellite map, the distinction is clear:

Left, the Google satellite map of Guadeloupe, with la Rivière Salée in the center.















I've use Photoshop to highlight the coastline. The mangrove has been lightened along with the water. Substantial portions of the mangrove - especially in the Petit Cul-du-Sac Marin, where the light industrial/commercial area of Jarry is located - have been dredged and paved over. These areas can be easily mistaken to form part of the original coastline.

L'Iguane Café

Supposedly one of the best restaurants in Guadeloupe, l'Iguane Café certainly doesn't look the part from the outside. The road abuts the entrance, and diners have a choice between a view of a side road, or surrounding residences. Better situated restaurants with prettier views, however, would have a difficult time measuring up to the cuisine that is served here.

The dining room is spacious and charming. A generous area furnished with low, wide couches is reserved for pre-dinner drinks. Exposed wooden beams support a high sloped roof, allowing for natural cooling. The decor demonstrates a traditional colonial sentiment but a more contemporary taste. Iguanas in all forms - statuettes, paintings - can be found throughout the restaurant.The service is attentive and professiona, but friendly. L'Iguane Café is proof, perhaps, that table linens and crumb scraper do not oblige the staff to be completely self-effacing.

Above, champagne cocktail with rose rum and grenadine; the amuse-bouche of a sweet and savory shrimp salad served with a one-bite campaillou.

Above, raw tuna squares covered in toasted sesame seeds, smoked tuna, accompanied by a cup of mascarpone wasabi froth, and a napa cabbage roll with fresh mint, spiced with Asian five spices; phyllo tulips stuffed with goat cheese, smoked spiced duck breast, and peppery fig compote, accompanied by mixed salad with pine nuts (1).

Above, young rabbit served in a ginger cream sauce and mustard seed jus, served with sauteed curried pineapples, accompanied by mashed sweet potato; Crispy sesame chicken served with mango chutney on basmati rice, accompanied by mesclun salad with mango vinaigrette (2)

Above, frothy arabica mascarpone, with crumbled coffee biscuits, meringue and chocolate shavings, emulsified Bailey's cream, served in a tall glass (3).

I thought everything was quite tasty and everything seemed to be the product of real effort - an impeccable staff, an innovative menu. I was particularly impressed with the mascarpone wasabi froth served with my appetizer and the ginger cream sauce on my entrée.

I wasn't quite sure how to eat the froth, I assumed it was sort of like a dipping sauce for the tuna. But I didn't mind just dipping my fork into the cup and licking the froth off with my tongue. The wasabi gave it a bit of chalkiness, against the creaminess of the mascarpone.

As for the ginger cream, I liked it so much, I tried making it myself at home several days later.
Above, my attempt at ginger cream sauce.

There is a reason why the professional kitchen dedicates one person to making sauce. It may not be the most important part of the meal, but it certainly is one of the elements most remembered. And it is so difficult to reproduce! My attempt is a combination of grated garlic, grated ginger, crème fraîche and butter. My sauce lacked the concentrated taste of ginger, the punch of real spicy flavor. It was too garlicky, and too thick. A nice exercise to further justify a pricey meal.

*Addendum* (June 2, 2009): Here is a review of the restaurant from Frommer's.



(1) Thon cru au sésame torréfié et tartare fumé, lait de mascarpone foisonné au wasabi, roulé de choux de chine à la menthe et cinq épices d'Asie; Tulipes de fromage de chèvre et de magret fumé aux épices à la compotée de figues poivrée, petites saldes de feuilles d'herbes aux noix

(2) Cuisse de lapereau à la crème de gingembre et ananas frais poêlé au curry, écrasé de patate douce, jus à la graine de moutarde; Poulet croustillant au sésame, chutney et mesclun au vinaigre de mangue, riz basmati

(3) Verrine d'arabica au lait mousseux de mascarpone, brisure de biscuit au café, meringue et pépite de cacao, crème émulsionnée au Bailey


L'Iguane Cafe
Route de la Pointe des Chateaux
97118 Saint François
Tel: 05 90 88 61 37

La Maison du Bois

The commune of Pointe-Noire is located on the western coast of North Basse Terre. The region of Pointe-Noire has historically been dependent on the exportation and transformation of wood. It is here that the national parks department (Parc National de Guadeloupe) has built La Maison du Bois (The House of Wood).

La Maison du Bois is composed of two parts: a small interactive museum dedicated to the history of wood and woodworking in Pointe Noire, and an outdoor arboretum.

Inside la Maison, wooden utensils, toys, and various wooden artifacts are on display in the first rooms.

Left, a bamboo fish trap.


In the following rooms, there are displays discussing the economic and ecological impact of wood in the region. Informative panels demonstrate the differences in wood types and uses.

The highlight is a reconstruction of a traditional case (shack). The furniture and items featured inside the house belonged to an actual family from Pointe-Noire. In a video shown on the opposite wall, one of the daughters - now well into her 50's - describes growing up as a child in this case.

A carpenter's studio dominates one corner of la Maison du Bois. The collection of tools is impressive. You won't find any table saws or power sanders here. There are demonstrations of woodworking from time to time, but on the day of my visit, the tools sat unused on the work table covered with sawdust.

At the end of the visit, two large rooms have been set aside for local carpenters to show off their creations. Excellent craftmanship and particular care is evident in all the pieces. While a few items seem to strive for more contemporary and modern design, most of the furniture follows more traditional design.

Left, slightly awkward forms on an otherwise beautiful lounging chair.


Outside la Maison du Bois, a wooden walkway meanders through the grounds. Various species of trees line the walkway. There are several gazebos, and on the day of our visit, one was occupied by a drummer who was demonstrating the different beats of gwo-ka, a traditional music of Guadeloupe.

Above, the wooden walkway meanders through a sparse and dry arboretum.

Ultimately, La Maison du Bois is a bit of a disappointment. Despite the museum-quality displays, the visitor experience leaves much to be desired. Displays in one room sat in the dark. The wooden toys and fishermen's tools were dusty. The English subtitles for the video inside the reconstructed case refused to appear. The entire 3-panelled audio display for traditional Créole folk stories was not working. The signage for the trees were all water damaged and barely legible. The specimens themselves were hardly spectacular.

Despite the interesting topic, the displays themselves remain uninteresting. This is a fact has not escaped the staff; Perhaps in a last ditch effort to keep the visitor interested, computer print-outs of Créole sayings, with the French translation underneath, were scotch-taped to the walls of La Maison.

La Maison is probably far more interesting if presented by a guide, and would definitely benefit from everything being in working order (the lights, the audio, the carpenter's studio, etc.). While younger children might appreciate the interactiveness of the place, adults may find themselves hurrying out the door to get back to the beach.

Anse à l'Eau

Wading into calm turquoise waters of Guadeloupe is always marvelous, but taking a dip in Anse à l'Eau is particularly good. Why? Once you leave the nationale, the road leading to the beach is unmarked. Without a detailed map, it is a matter of luck in finding the beach. In addition, the paved road ends quite a distance away from the beach, and those driving with anything less than a sport-utility vehicle will find it slow going.

However, the beach is definitely worth the effort. Anse à l'Eau offers a lovely bay with fine white sand. The break is quite far from the shore line, and there are no strong currents - perfect conditions for floating, floating, floating... Picturesque green hills surround the bay. At the foot of the hills, a thick growth of thorny brush prevents curious wandering.

There is, however, a shortage of shade. There is one measly coconut tree quite far back from the sand, and a few low-lying sea grapes or almond trees. There are a few shelters; arrive early to be sure to get one (especially on Sundays).


















Anse à l'Eau
A white sand beach facing a calm turquoise Atlantic. During the week, the beach is almost deserted, but becomes a gathering place for large family groups on the weekend (and especially Sunday). The beach offers no amenities besides picnic shelters; bring what you need with you.
Location: Between Le Moule and St. François. After Le Moule, going eastward on N5, look for a sign for Le Gaiac (a cantaloupe producer). Make a left turn after the sign. The road to the beach is unmarked; you will need a detailed map to find your way. The paved road will eventually lead to unpaved road. A sport-utility vehicle is not necessary, but helpful.
Parking: There is no designated area for parking. You may park on the dirt road behind the beach.
Food: None.
Public Showers: None.
Public Restrooms: None.

Biafine

Before moving to Guadeloupe, the beach was (at most) a once-a-year excursion to Fire Island, the cost and the difficulty of getting there being major deterrents. New England sun is not particularly strong, but still, we'd slather on the SPF40 sunblock once there, and so sunburns were rare.

Since moving to Guadeloupe, I do take extra precautions to prevent exposure. I apply a face moisturizer with SPF, and I do not leave the house without a large brim straw hat, or more often, an umbrella. At the beach I always sit in the shade.

Nevertheless, the sun is quite relentless and any lapse in vigilance can lead to sunburn. In our house, we keep a tube of Biafine. Introduced in France more than 25 years ago, Biafine is a household name, used widely to treat sunburn. It is a relatively inexpensive over-the-counter product: a 95g tube costs a little more than 3€ (less in France métropolitaine).

Above, Biafine in a French cartoon (1).

Biafine was developed to treat much more serious conditions. According to its prescribing information, Biafine is indicated for use in:

• full thickness wounds, pressure sores, dermal ulcers including lower leg ulcers
• superficial wounds
• 1st and 2nd degree burns, including sunburns
• dermal donor and graft site management
• radiation dermatitis
• minor abrasions

In the United States, Biafine used to be known only to those in the medical field, primarily in the treatment of burns, and especially burns from radiotherapy. It merits an entry in the National Cancer Institute's online dictionary of cancer terms (2).

Above, advertisements for Biafine for the American market.

However, Biafine is slowly gaining recognition outside the medical field. In the past several years, increasing numbers of cosmetic procedure patients began using it to speed healing (3). Biafine requires a prescription in the United States and this is a hurdle for some potential users. Nevertheless, its popularity does not seem to be adversely affected; MarieClaire featured it in its Beauty Products to Toss, Try & Buy column last August.

Above, MarieClaire beauty editors endorse Biafine.

The MarieClaire article lists the product as $33, but doesn't specify the quantity. An Amazon.com marketplace vendor is selling the same 93g tube for $63.00. Walgreens has it listed on its website, but prices are location dependent.




(1) Cartoon drawn by Marion Berthillion.

(2) Biafine cream: A topical preparation to reduce the risk of, and treat skin reactions to, radiation therapy. (NCI Dictionary of Cancer Terms)

(3) Read the study abstract here.

Endless Summer

Photo: Phil Mansfield for The New York Times. Click here for related article.

When I was a young child growing up in New York City, summer was synonymous with scorching days ending with hot balmy nights, rainbow icees eaten in a plastic bowl with a spoon, and running around in a swimsuit at public sprinklers. Our family was young, and money was being squirreled away for a home and for three college tuitions. There was no money to go away. Not that we did nothing all summer.

I remember going to Coney Island occasionally...


and to the Bronx Zoo...


and, maybe the highlight of several summers, the Queens fair...


...always with a picnic lunch of ham and orange cheese on Wonder white and a soda, both wrapped in aluminum foil.

When my sisters and I were a bit older and there was more money, my mother would take us sightseeing in nearby states. We would travel farther and farther as we got older, across the country, across the Atlantic...

But there was never a summer house, a place where one would return, summer after summer, to bike on dirt roads, to swim, to read quietly at a bay window. Though, I didn't know about that then as a young child. I would learn about the summer house later. I would learn that the summer house, the dirt roads, the swimming, even the bay window, belonged to families different from mine. I didn't regret my childhood summers, but I relished the thought of having a summer house one day.

The one day came sooner than I could have imagined. Without knowing it, I've lived in a summer house for several months now. Mornings spent at the beach. Lunch on the terrace. Afternoons reading quietly. The day seems long, but the days pass quickly in a blur of white sunlight. Summer must feel like that in a summer house, slow until the sudden end, when autumn and school sweep us along. I've lived here 9 months already, 9 months of endless summer.

Banal

I was doing a bit of online research yesterday on French bureaucracy and found myself on this website created by an American girl living in France. In addition to pages of useful information (French bureaucracy included), she keeps a blog about her life. Curious, I read a few posts and as I continued to poke around her site, I found a list of links to blogs written by other (American) expatriates living in France. I clicked on the first, then the second, the third, the fourth... it was a very long list. As I clicked and read, clicked and read, I became bewildered, baffled.

Who were all these Americans in France?

This list of blogs really threw me for a loop. I kept getting up from the table, going into the kitchen to make exclamatory remarks, wide eyed, arms flailing, to M. who was attempting to read quietly.

I couldn't explain clearly what I was thinking. There were all these people! Americans! Living in France! And blogging about it! Like me!

It was a mixture of wonder, that there were all these people living similar experiences, and shock, that so many of us felt compelled to blog about it. I realized that the list obviously was just a sampling, and that there were probably many more.

It's normal, I suppose, that foreigners living in France would want to write about their new life, to share their experiences. All the bloggers seem to write with such excitement, even when the subject is quite banal. Posts, even from bloggers who have clearly lived for years now in France, read like breathless accounts of amazing derring-do. Exclamation points litter the page. Proof, perhaps, that even ordinary life in elsewhere is an adventure.

Discovering these blogs was humbling in revealing the insignificance of my one voice amid the clamor of so many others, but also the altogether banality of the pains and difficulties of constructing my new life. I think it would do me well to remember how ordinary my move to Guadeloupe is. If I do that, I think the mountains will seem less imposing.


If you're curious, here is a alphabetized but non-exhaustive list:

10, Rue de la Charme
A double-double or un petit café?
A Kiwi in France
a little bit chaunoise
A View from Ivry
An American in Bourgogne
An American in Provence
An Aussi Lass, A Frenchman and a Burmese
Angela in Europe
Another American in France
Au Soleil Levant
Chitlins & Camembert
Crystal Goes to Europe
Destination Europe
Dispatches from France
Emily’s French Life
Emmygration
French for a While
French Kiss - Provence Style
French Windows
French Word-a-Day
Frenchless in France
Here, There, Elsewhere… and more
Home in France
Jennie en France
Kate’s French (Mis)Adventures
Katia & Kyliemac
L’Etrangère Americaine
La Belle Saison
La Fille en Rose
La France Profonde
La Vie en Foussais
Life with a Seaview
Living in a Second Language
Maladroite
Marie in Lille
Milk Jam
My So-Called Life in France
News from France
Notre Vie Juteuse
Notre Vie…
Nouvelle Vie en France
Paradis Imparfaits
Pardon My French
Pardon My Franglais
Polly-Vous Français?
Poppy Fields
Practical French
Put Your Flare On
Soupe du Jour
Soyez la Bienvenue Chez Moi
Susan in France
The Adventures of an American Blonde in France
The Duchess of Earl in France
The Edge of the Forest
Joy in France
The Video Diary of an American in France
This French Life
Toutes Directions
Wicked French Kiss

Long as it is, the list has been edited: I removed blogs that had not posted in the past month, which numbered a dozen or so, at least.

Pineapple Coconut Tart

I have been keen to try making some tart recipes from Sophie Dudemaine's Tartes et Salades de Sophie (1). Sophie had had a runaway success with her first book, Les Cakes de Sophie in 2000 and Tartes was her second book, published 4 years later. I hadn't heard of her until almost 6 years after she had published her first book, and by then she was a veritable one-woman corporation with a an entire series of books, a cooking program, tied sponsorships, etc. For that reason, she has been called the French Martha Stewart. The comparison is certainly a marketing gimmick because their styles are complete opposites. Whereas Martha introduced perfectionist cuisine and homemaking to an American public, Sophie does the exact opposite. Sophie introduced French cooks to easy and original recipes. I highlight original because the French are quite rigid in their ideas of food, and Sophie has said that when she first started making and selling cakes, customers were very wary of trying anything except the classic cake recipe of ham and olive (2). She also isn't afraid to use shortcuts in the interest of time and economy; for example, she often uses canned fruits in her sweet recipes, and uses pre-prepared pate feuilletée. She writes in her introduction that she would like to make her recipes accessible, and so takes into account the possibility that not all her readers can purchase fresh ingredients, or have the time to spend hours prepping in the kitchen.

Anyway, with my new electric oven, I am finally able to bake to my heart's delight. I had a bit
of trouble at first since my electric oven heats from the top (unlike a regular oven, which heats from the bottom). I made a few tarts, savory and sweet alike, which turned out with uncooked bottoms. I've now worked out that I must prebake the tart crusts, especially since I use a very pretty, but slightly thick, ceramic Geneviève Lethu tart dish.

This recipe stuck out because of its principle ingredients - it seemed very Antillais. Sophie's recipe calls for a small can of pineapple slices and packaged grated coconut, which is in line with her philosophy of easy cooking. However, I would have felt somewhat ridiculous in using imported packaged pineapple and coconut. It is not simply a question of taste, but a small gesture to support the economic and ecological benefits of eating locally.


Of course, replacing ingredients in recipes is always a tricky matter, and in my case, not always successful (3). But, I'm always ready to give it a shot and hope for the best.

I bought a medium-sized pineapple and a coconut from the market. Marie-Denise's husband was kind enough to remove the coconut flesh from the shell - an operation, he informed me, often resulting in serious injury in the hands of tourists. I'm not a tourist, but close enough!

I was worried that the coconut might be difficult to grate, and had therefore intended to delegate the job to M. But, he was not around when I began and so, I ended up doing it myself. To my relief, it grates much like a carrot, with the brown skin a bit tougher but all together possible with my flabby arms. While I was grating the coconut, I ate one of the end bits and I was surprised by the taste. I suppose I expected the taste of coconut icees in the summer, or candied slivers from chinese new year's. Instead, it tasted rich and oily and ... not sweet. I thought about the last time I had a fresh piece of coconut, and realized that I couldn't remember. Perhaps never. So strange, I thought, to have lived so long and to have eaten coconut, but not having ever eaten coconut at all.

Its a bit the same with pineapples, actually. I had my first taste of fresh pineapple when I was 18 (!). I was an undergraduate college student working in a campus brasserie that had fresh fruit smoothies on the menu. I prepared my first pineapple before ever having tasted one. I must have prepared a dozen before I finally secretly slipped a piece in my mouth. It was a revelation, that piece of pineapple.

Back to the recipe. In the end, I ended up using about half the pineapple. I could have piled on all of it on top of the tart, but was afraid that the juices might overwhelm the tart and spill over, especially since freshly grated coconut is less dry than pre-grated coconut. As instructed by Marie-Denise's husband, I froze half of the coconut for future use, and grated the other half for my tart. I ended up using less than half for the tart (4).

The pineapple coconut tart turned out extremely well, and is my first baking success here. Certainly the fresh coconut, speckled brown, makes for less pretty presentation, but the taste is clean and not overly sweet.








(1)
Dudemaine, Sophie. Tartes et Salades de Sophie. Geneva: Éditions Minerva, 2004.





(2) As quoted in her bio (in english), l'internaute.

(3) I tried making an apricot tart from the same book using mangoes. The entire thing ended up in the garbage.

(4) What do do with any remainder shredded coconut? Drizzle a bit of olive oil, and sprinkle on some salt and freshly ground pepper and you have a nice little salad. It only seems strange because we associate coconut with sweet - coconut cake, pina coladas, etc. Even savoury dishes with coconut are usually salty-sweet. But there is nothing inherently sweet about a coconut. Try it!

A Petition

Above, a clipping from Libération (Feb 18) with pictures taken of barricades in Pointe-à-Pitre.

If I haven't written about politics since the first days of the strike, it is not because things have settled down. Indeed, the strike eventually lasted a total of 44 days, bringing the entire island to a complete standstill, and its economic and political leaders to its knees. It also resulted in one unfortunate death: a strike leader shot dead by armed youths in a dangerous housing project. The agreement, signed by Elie Domota and the Prefect Nicolas Desforges at the end of the strike, would be named after the strike leader, Jacques Bino. Officially, with the signing of this agreement, the strike was over. But the movement continues. LKP continues to put pressure on MEDEF, the business union, and other large companies who have yet to sign the agreement. LKP also moves to ensure that the conditions of agreement are applied. And so, it goes on.

I have not written about this mainly because I do not feel qualified. There are so many details, so many circumstances which make the politics here difficult to understand. More importantly, though, I admit that I am rather sick of it all. I could barely put up with one week of strike; I was lucky enough to have been away for the majority of it. Guadeloupe is far from being my country, and these are not my people. This is not my fight. I'd rather write about things that interest me, things that are closer to my heart.

Left, Elie Domota and the LKP take over the General Council chamber (FranceAntilles).

However, yesterday a petition was published in France-Antilles which drew my interest. The petition was entitled, Soutenons les luttes sociales mais défendons les principes démocratiques, We support social battles but defend democratic principles. It was written in response to LKP having taken over the opening meeting of the General Council last Thursday. I felt compelled to write about it because I share the opinions expressed in the petition. The tactics used by this movement have far too much in common with those used by common thugs. It is reassuring to know that Guadeloupeans are not ready to sacrifice principles for what is, essentially, monetary gain.

Below, a quick translation of the petition:

We support social battles but defend democratic principles
Something very serious happened on Thursday May 7th in Basse-Terre, something that we, Guadeloupean citizens, cannot tolerate and which must be brought to light.

The President of the General Council, Jacques Gillot, had decided to assemble the elected officials of Guadeloupe and numerous players of civil society, including Elie Domota and LKP. As stated in the invitation sent to all parties, Mr. Gillot was hoping “to give the floor to the citizens,” inviting them to “build a Guadeloupean societal project together” – words which seemed to take into account criticisms often made against elected officials. The President of the General Council stated that a method would be drawn up together. He added that he was seeking a more ‘participatory’ democracy.

We, the signatories of this declaration, do not all agree with the political alternatives of Presidents Gillot and Lurel. However, whatever one might think of the appropriateness of such an assembly – of its political, even politician, aims – we are fervent in our solemn affirmation that the democratically elected political representatives of the Guadeloupean people have every right to draw up, as they intend, their political strategy. To refuse them this right is to undermine the democratic liberties of the Guadeloupean people. And yet, this is exactly what has happened in Basse-Terre: an act whose fundamental nature consisted of refusing elected officials the right to exercise their mandate. But this was subtle. It was subtle because this act disguised itself to avoid being correctly identified. It was an attack on democracy which resembled an insurrection. The disguise? A particular use of time and order: acting before the opening of the assembly and pretending to put the chamber in order (a supposed symbolic occupation) to escape suspicion of undemocratic actions. This tumultuous occupation, with intimidation of administrative personnel and the moving of chairs and equipment necessary for the organization of the meeting constituted a de facto exclusion of the participants. A normal debate being all but impossible under such conditions, the cancellation of the Assembly by the President of the General Council was unavoidable.

LKP is playing with fire on a powder keg. Invading the General Council, the emblematic place for the exercise of democracy since the abolition of slavery, and declaring a "notice" to elected officials, definitely constitutes a reconsideration of the electoral legitimacy. We can only bring attention to the ambiguity of the term notice: a warning or a threat?

The leaders of LKP justify themselves by declaring that they are the people, that it is the streets that govern and admit that they want to replace representative democracy by direct democracy under the pretext that the former is “out of order.” Even if suffrage alone does not constitute a democracy –certainly insufficient - it is a prerequisite and necessary. The leading question that we pose to LKP: What right? The defense of workers should in no case be detrimental to democracy. When LKP decides to invade the General Council under the pretext that democracy is “out of order,” LKP grant themselves a right with which the sovereign people have not entrusted them. This is a use of might. Believing that the representative democracy is “out of order” is an opinion. We can share that opinion or not. Invading the General Council is an act that calls for qualification. Committing the act in authorizing oneself his opinion only is dangerous to democracy. Carelessly confusing the mob with the people, pretending to represent the people without mediation or any collectively drawn and approved process, this is what seems to us very serious. LKP's notebook of demands is not the Constitution of Guadeloupe.

Many of us supported the social demands expressed by LKP, and today still, the main demands of workers are legitimate. However, with this unfortunate event in Basse-Terre, a social and societal demand supported by the majority of Guadeloupeans has become a political posture of the LKP. This posturing plays with the fundamental principles of democracy and we, Guadeloupean citizens concerned about the positive evolution of our country, whatever our individual political choices, are united in declaring that this game is dangerous. It constitutes a veiled reconsideration of these democratic principles.

Therefore, a firm clarification is necessary. It is all the more necessary because this reconsideration, disguised, was put forward in the chamber of the General Council. We declare ourselves to be profoundly attached to the democratic principles that must structure public life, the exercise of citizenship, all things for which our ancestors fought. Not only do these principles alone allow for a constructive and peaceful debate at the heart of Guadeloupean society, but more importantly, the very survival of that society.

For us, democracy is as much the freedom to express all opinions – including minority opinions –, public debate, political representation expressed by the vote (what is called representative democracy), as the right to demonstrate our dissatisfaction in the street. But social power legitimately demonstrated in the street – however successful – that can positively reinforce the political choice of elected officials, cannot take the place of political power, unless, of course, the conditions of a democratic political life are not fulfilled, which is not the case in Guadeloupe today. Otherwise, we enter into a rationale where the charismatic authority of the leader or the group overcomes that of common law.

In conclusion, even if we recognize the right of LKP to further its demands, without a doubt legitimate, we firmly condemn his double pretentions:

1. his pretension to portray himself and only himself as the people, all people, and thus to speak in its name;
2. his pretension in holding power coming directly from the street, thus disqualifying political representation and consequently denying the legitimacy of the vote.

These two pretensions are heavy with all the excesses, including those that would turn us towards the deadly cycle of violence and civil war or serious confrontations between Guadeloupeans. Is this in the interest of Guadeloupe? Most certainly no!

Because we support the social battles while being firm on the fundamental principles of democracy in our country, we are want urgently to shed light on the gravity of the events of Basse-Terre.

Driving Through the Metaphysical

Its been a month since I began practicing the code.

The code consists of 40 multiple answer questions testing would-be drivers on road signs and markings, passing, intersections and turns, etc. An image with accompanying question and responses are played on a screen. One test is played every hour, where a maximum of two different tests are played each day. Occasionally, the staff lets the video go through the explanations, but most of the time an instructor reviews the answers with the class.

Because I know I am a nerd, I can admit that I actually enjoy the class. The hike up to the bus stop and the bus ride itself are not great, but they constitute acceptable inconveniences for an excuse to get out of the house. The testing itself doesn't bother me. Having gone through the New York public school system, I respond well to these types of tests. Of course, the questions can be tricky, but like any sort of standardized test, the more you practice, the better you get. My fellow classmates have proved quite amusing as well. There are the slick young kids who drive fear into your heart with the recklessness in their answers; les mémés (grannies/thi ah mo) who struggle heroically to follow along; and the general comedy of watching somebody else sputter an incoherent answer, only to be sassed by the instructor.

Wrong answers are common, obviously. But certain questions seem practically unfair. Almost all aspects of life in Guadeloupe are determined by the national government 4,000 miles away. The rules of the road are no exception. The problem is Guadeloupe is not France and that fact is all the more obvious when driving.

There is snow, for example (Which headlamps - high or low beams - should be used when snow is falling?). Or fog (What is the maximum driving speed when fog limits visibility to 50m?). These meteorological situations simply do not exist here in Caribbean Guadeloupe.
And there are things like railroad and tramway crossings, tunnels, highways - none of which exist on this island. Yet, here we are, all 20 of us, head down, shoulders hunched, scribbling away.

At the same time, there is an entire range of knowledge pertinent and particular to Guadeloupe that is simply not addressed: How to share a narrow two way road with a ‘titan’ (1) overloaded with cut cane; The significance of incredibly long lines at every gas station; Maneuvers for avoiding a collision with coconuts, iguanas, goats crossing the road.

Above, sharing the road with a tractor overloaded with cut cane.

Above, watch out for falling palm leaves!

The disjunction between our reality and the advertised reality is a ready-made metaphysical exercise. It is entirely possible that certain students have never experienced snow. And yet they must imagine themselves driving through this thing that is called snow. More practically, the disjunction leads to considerable confusion. There was the older woman who took the photo of a pay toll to be a gas station. The short discussion of whether a photo showed falling or fallen snow. It is a distilled example of how France puts Guadeloupeans at a disadvantage.

I improved my scores quickly in the first month and was beginning to score sufficiently high enough to consider taking the written test soon. But, I've been informed that I will not be allowed to take the test without a carte de séjour. And no, a recipssé is insufficient. I've pushed back the remainder of my lessons until August, when I will (hopefully) have my carte de séjour.

I was a bit sad to stop going. Insignificant as it might have been, it gave me a sense of independence. I also felt that a license could be considered some sort of accomplishment; it would have been at least a goal which had, up until this time, escaped me. But more importantly, getting a license represented a positive affirmation that, yes, I was making a new life for myself in Guadeloupe. There could be no clearer sign of acquiescence than the New Yorker who gets herself a license.

Of course, not long after, I was sad that I was sad. Who mourns for the loss of driving exam test prep?


(1) Titan is the nick name given to the massive open bed trucks that are used to transport cut cane from the fields to the factory. They are fear-inducing, and much larger than the tractor pictured above.

Colombo Update

Its been a while since I made colombo. The shortage of fresh meat was the main reason, but maybe a lack of inspiration, too.

I really should have read my post about colombo before I began. I had worked out all these problems and had come up with some good ideas, all of which I forgot to try (except for the tomatoes). In fact, it seems I began from scratch.

I hadn’t been really pleased with the way the pork was eating - a bit rough. So instead, I tried making it with chicken. I had intended to de-bone some drumsticks, but didn’t have the time and just cooked it on the bone. Chicken seems to be a vast improvement on pork: it simply tastes better with the sauce and the turmeric colors the meat into a nice dandelion/brown whereas the pork took on a brown/gray color.

I added two tomatoes (skinned and seeded) at the very end just a few minutes before I turned off the burner. It was the acidic note I was looking for.

Previously, I served my colombo with rice. Since there was none at the house, I roasted some potatoes with a bit of olive oil as the accompaniment. I reserved two cubes to put in with the chicken to thicken the sauce.

No eggplants, no christophines. But I did add a hard boiled egg. I don’t think that’s ever done with a traditional colombo, but its common in Indian curries.

The dish turns out quite well, even without all the intended improvements - the fresh ginger, the granny smith apple. The meal left me feeling inspired; I think I'll try making it again soon.

This Seat is Taken

L’Ile et Une Nuit

I have not given up on my pursuit of Caribbean litterature. Rather, I settled on a stylistically difficult book, and I got stuck. I allowed it to collect dust on my nightstand, while I philandered with economic magazines and books in English. Months after having begun, I've finally finished Daniel Maximin's L’Ile et Une Nuit (1). Though, when I write finished, I don’t mean it in the literal and usual sense of having read the entire book cover to cover, but instead I mean having read all the parts that I was able to read. I’ll explain.

The book details one night in the life of Marie-Gabriel. Not any ordinary night, but the night during which Hurricane Hugo, one of Guadeloupe's most devastating hurricanes, cuts across the entire width of both wings, unleashing its fury of wind and water. Each chapter describes each hour Marie-Gabriel is boarded up in her house, Les Flamboyants, where she is hostage to the hurricane, her memories, her past, her solitude, her hopes, her dreams.

The special relationship that Guadeloupeans have with disaster is fascinating. People live with the specter of the earthquake, the eruption and the hurricane. But earthquakes pass before the fear has the time to take hold, and there is simply no choice but to flee an eruption. Guadeloupeans meet the hurricane, each barricaded in his own home, individual defiance forming a collective resistance.

The only way I have experienced hurricanes has been through television. The image on the cover of the book is similar to what I've seen: palm trees blown sideways, fronds waving wildly, facing a threatening sky. I admit that I had devoured the first chapter of its details in provisions and preparation, reading it almost like some survival guide. This is what I would need to do should a hurricane arrive. Otherwise, I was surprised by the wondrous descriptions of quiet beauty in the midst of a hurricane. An entire garden of roses and anthuriums, cut and brought inside to wither and die gracefully. The sweet smell of cantaloupes permeating a bedroom, the entire crop kept safe underneath the master bed.

The writing is straight forward in the beginning, but quickly morphs into poetic prose, rhythmic and abstract. Moreover, the narration and point of view changes from chapter to chapter. I had great difficulty and I believe I failed to grasp the meaning for much of the book. The words passed through my eyes, my head and dissipated into a gray fog. Maximin first published as a poet, and his prose style makes clear his preference for language over narration. I do not think I will attempt another of his novels, but I may look into his poems.


(1)
Maximin, Daniel. L’Ile et une nuit. Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 1995.