To be honest with you, I really think that if it wasn’t for Haiti, I wouldn’t be an artist.

BélO

In 2021, Haiti experienced a series of traumatic events including the assassination of the President Jovenel Moïse, another devastating earthquake of 7.1 magnitude, and the arrival of 15,000 Haitian asylum seekers at the Del Rio, Texas border.

In the midst of recurring trauma, there is a need for Haitians to recalibrate to have deeper conversations about healing. Jean Belony “BélO” Murat is a socially conscious Haitian artist and musical ambassador who uses his distinctive traditional sound to share messages of collective healing and community building.

In this interview, BélO discusses his view of “chèche lavi lòt bò dlo” (looking for a better life abroad) through his work. As a Haitian ambassador, BélO’s objective is to use his music to share Haitian experiences, traditions and culture at home and abroad.

Be sure to check out his latest project, a recreation of his very first album "Lakou Trankil" — which came out 18 years ago now — reimagined with the help of female artists the likes of Wiliadel Denervil, Queen Bee, and Sherlee Skai, who reinterpreted the tracks on the original album to make a compilation of covers called "Fanm Lakou Trankil".

He spoke to Ashley E. Lazarre, PhD Candidate of Global Inclusion and Social Development at the University of Massachusetts Boston. 

Song: Intro Kote Moun Yo by BélO

AEL: In a previous interview, you mentioned that your inspiration always comes from Haiti. Your album “Natif Natal” (of native origin) personifies Haiti as your native roots. Even when you explore other genres, such as Afrobeats with Adekunle Gold or Electronic Music with Michael Brun (which can be considered outside of your norm), no matter what beat you are on when I hear your voice I know this is BélO. Why is it important to you that your inspiration comes from Haiti?

JBM: To be honest with you, I really think that if it wasn’t for Haiti, I wouldn’t be an artist. To me, it is very important for Haiti to be at the center of my music —it is not even a choice— that’s the way it is meant to be.

I did not plan for it to be this way but my mission is to take a socially-conscious approach to my work because Haiti has very specific needs.

It’s been over 200 years since we've been fighting a difficult battle dating back to our independence, including addressing environmental problems and political disasters.

Even if everyone is partying, I have to go to sleep so that I can dream and receive the remedy for the sickness in my country — “Si m pa dòmi mwen p ap fè rèv la” (If I don’t sleep, I won’t have the dream).

The privilege that usually comes with being an artist such as having big cars and luxury, none of that is fit for me.

AEL: In music you talk about an overemphasis on Haiti’s trauma by mainstream media, which can also be reproduced in academia. You challenge these narratives by singing about the importance of HIV screenings, knowing your roots, preserving your culture, farming, and mental health. Why is healing a critical message in your music?

JBM: Because there is a need for healing. The media looks for news that the world is more interested in – that is their role. But what is our role as Haitian people?

If people are trying to demonize you, do you try to put yourself in a better position every day?

I think this is where we should focus our efforts. I also have to be realistic about the current state of our country, but are there a lot of Haitians who focus on promoting good things about our country? Are we proud enough about our Vodou? Do we let people know what it is? Or do we just let Hollywood show one side of it?

That’s why when I am touring, I always wear something Haitian. I always put our traditions to the forefront so that everyone knows that this is traditional Haitian wear, it is from Vodou, it is from Haiti. I want to show the sides of Haiti that people have never seen before. 

We also need more people to bring value to our language. There are many people who have told me that I would be further along in my career as a musician if I sang in languages other than Kreyòl. I always respond by saying “I have gotten quite far using my language”.

If more Haitians created more things in Kreyòl perhaps it would have been a more popular language than it is now. We should not adapt to everything being in English and follow suit because we miss out on our culture and identity. 

“Nou se Wozo, nou pliye nou paka kase”.

Song: Wozo by BélO

AEL: "Wozo" is my favorite song. It inspired me in times where I didn’t really see the light in my work, where it was going or what I wanted to do. The song reminded me of why I am here, specifically that I am Haitian and that there is a deeper sense of resilience in me. I often use “Wozo” as a concept in my research when talking about Haitians and who we are as a people. You released this song after the 2010 earthquake as a reminder to Haitians to uplift themselves. Can you talk about the roots of the Kreyòl term "wozo"? 

JBM: "Wozo" means bamboo tree. A bamboo tree is a plant that you can bend, but it is really hard to break it.

The day after the earthquake in 2010, I was in Guadeloupe when I received the news that “there are no more Haitians left in Haiti”. That’s the way the news was presented to me.

They said it was over for Haiti and that there was no one left standing in the country. I was shocked but I thought “these images and videos are coming from Haiti, so there is at least one Haitian alive.” And knowing my people, if there is at least one man and one woman in Haiti, that’s enough for us to come back to life.

I said to myself  “nou se Wozo, nou pliye nou paka kase” (we are wozo, we bend but we cannot break).

Song: Istwa Dwòl by BélO

AEL: Let’s talk about the concept of “chache lavi lòt bò dlo” (looking for a better life abroad). I think this resonates for me personally, as I have had to step back from going to Haiti frequently due to recent social issues. There is a distance that’s been created between me and home, where I had to find home wherever I am. How do you think the experience of “cheche lavi lòt bò dlo” relates to a search for healing?

JBM: “Al chèche lavi” does not mean going to look for a plate of food. From a Haitian context, a peasant who sends their children to the city to get a better education is looking to “chèche lavi” (look for a better life) for their children. They are aware of the limitations and obstacles that come with being illiterate, so their goal is to provide more for their children.

Haitians fight to give their children a better life so that they don’t have to go through the same obstacles as they have. This also applies to middle class Haitians. Parents send their kids abroad to look for a better life not because they need better food and housing but because there is a bigger vision to fund their future to become doctors, athletes, engineers, or artists.

They go to the U.S. because that is where they can get a better education with resources to learn. “Al chèche lavi” for me means being proactive about looking for a better future. 

AEL: In the video “Istwa Dwòl”, there is a scene of 5 men taking a small boat to leave the country while their families worry about their whereabouts and the potential risks along the journey. This video which was shot more than 15 years ago foreshadows the actual scenes we saw involving the 15,000 Haitian asylum seekers who walked from South America to the Del Rio, Texas border. Why did you choose to show scenes of Haitians escaping home in the video?

JBM: I chose to show these visuals because as the saying goes, "a picture is worth a thousand words". It was important for me to show Haitians that there are some problems that we cannot control but that there are things within our reach. We should focus our energy on the circumstances that we can control. 

The song itself sheds light on the fact that if peasants are leaving, artists are leaving, and doctors are leaving, it is because there is a central problem in our country.

Who will they kidnap when everyone leaves? Or will we rethink our stance to convince each other to stop the self-inflicted violence so we can all be home together again.

With solidarity we can resist being brainwashed and save our country. We know that we are “Wozo” (resilient) and we can get back up, but it is much harder to get back up by yourself than if someone gives you a hand.

Haitians can’t consider each other to be a problem because there are many other external factors that we have to deal with. 

Haiti is our mother and no matter where we are in the world, we will never be considered Haiti’s stepchild. 

Song: Pitit Deyò by BélO

AEL: In the song, you also elaborate on the relationship of the diaspora with Haiti. What does it mean to be a “pitit deyò”?

JBM: I named the song “Pitit Deyò” (stepchild) because in literal terms when a father births a child outside of wedlock we call this child the “stepchild”. But when a mother births a child outside of her marriage, that kid remains her biological child no matter what. Every mother’s child is considered biological.

In that sense, Haiti is our mother and no matter where we are in the world, we will never be considered Haiti’s stepchild. 

With that, the song speaks to improving our relationship with the diaspora. I felt this fear coming from them so that's why I wrote the song.

We cannot just expect the diaspora to send us money via Western Union and nice sneakers every month. We need a relationship that is more inclusive.

AEL: Anthropologist Gina A. Ulysse, speaks about the need for “rasanblaj” – “the need for deeper, thoughtful, and self-reflective conversations among Haitians”. She notes that “living in fragmentation has been our way” and she urges Haitians to take pause to recalibrate. How do you recalibrate in times of crisis, personally and as an artist?

JBM: I would say personally it is a hard thing to do. For the past two years, I’ve been more active on social media, not just to share my art but to share a little message of hope because I know when you are in crisis it is hard to think outside of the box. But as an artist, sometimes I travel or my soul leaves my body and goes to get inspiration elsewhere, not just for me, but to share with other people because to me that’s what an artist is. 

AEL: A great note to end our conversation on. Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts on "chèche lavi lòt bò dlo". 

The situation of the country cannot prevent us from creating. We must continue to create, because it is from creativity that we live. Creativity is our oxygen. Ayibobo.

CHARLINE JEAN GILLES

I'm a young author born in a country where you can count on your fingers how many theatres there are

ANDRISE PIERRE

The Occupation of Afghanistan lasted two decades, one year longer than our own intervention. Is Afghanistan better off today?  Puerto Rico is a territory of the US. Are they better off?

ALAIN MARTIN

Alain Martin's much anticipated documentary The Forgotten Occupation exploring the history surrounding the American occupation of Haiti in 1915 has finally released its official trailer. We sat down with Martin to learn more about this endeavor, his team, what he hopes we can take away from this work and more. We had the opportunity to chat with him on the matter for our podcast back in 2018. Have a listen here.

We are so excited to finally view the trailer of this ongoing project! This movie has been long in the making, what major lessons have  you learned along the way? 

Artistic capital is just as significant as financial capital. I remember after we raised our 25k through Kickstarter, we were all elated thinking we had this in the bag. But after the first edit, the movie sucked and we eventually realized it was lacking in soul, in artistic direction. It took us another five years to figure out what we wanted to say and why.  

So I will say that one of the lessons learned here, when it comes to making a film, is to know what you have to say, why you want to say it and how you want to say it is quite significant. Second, irrespective of how historical a documentary is, films are made to entertain,  to engender connections with the audience. As problematic as this may sound, connecting and moving the audience is more important than the facts of your film. 

Lastly, the cavalry is not coming, you are the cavalry you seek. We kept waiting for some magical person to come around, we thought we had raised enough money for that magical person. But in the end, such person never showed up and we rescued the project ourselves. So in life, the best person to know is yourself. 

Tell us about the team that has made this film possible. 

Hans Augustave has really really been indispensable in the making of this film. He had a job with a production company in the city and that allowed us access to free equipment to shoot all the stuff we needed. This film as it is now ain’t possible without him. 

James Doran who I enlisted as an artist consultant ended up shooting the last third of production for free. His involvement really elevated the work. 

I have to also give a shout out to Professor Patrick Bellegarde Smith who nudged in the right direction in terms of which books to read and who to interview. Some of those interviews did wonders for the film. 

Intervention in Haiti is again being debated in the public sphere. How does your film contribute to that conversation?

That’s such an interesting question. In the intervening years before the occupation, Haiti, as a lot of people saw it then, was quite in a deplorable state, not unlike today. In an interview, the historian Roger Gaillard gave to Jean Dominique back in the 1960’s, he describes the sullen psyche of the young Haitians at the time. They were tired of the social-political conditions of their country. It had been liberated for an entire century and yet had nothing to show for it. In the three years before the US Occupation, Haiti had seven different presidents. So talk of a US Occupation was welcomed, for they saw it as the only way out. And honestly, they can be forgiven for this. We have to remember these were the days of the ascension of the American Empire. Immigrants were flocking to it by the millions. Stories of poor people becoming rich overnight in America abounded. 

Furthermore, this was also the beginning of a 20th century that was washing the world with so much technological marvel. The radio. The telephone. Film. The airplane. The automobile. And the United States was at the forefront of all that. So these young despairing Haitians desperately thought an American Occupation would grant them entrance into the modern world of the 20th century. They were of course mistaken. And it is the same today, Haiti is in such a deplorable state that many people are openly asking for American intervention. But they have, as examples, the previous interventions in Haiti, the intervention in Iraq. The Occupation of Afghanistan lasted two decades, one year longer than our own intervention. Is Afghanistan better off today?  Puerto Rico is a territory of the US. Are they better off? So our film contributes to this conversation by evincing this forgotten past of ours. It reminds us that history itself does not move along a linear process but rather through a cyclical one. Things happen. And then they happen again with new actors, over and over. 

Check out the official trailer for "The Forgotten Occupation"

What do you hope this film will offer to a younger generation of Haitians inside of Haiti and outside of it?

That’s such a tough question to answer. I don’t know if I’m arrogant enough to assume that our film offers anything to anyone. But I will hope that the film itself lessens our historical amnesia, awakens us to this idea that we can only be rescued by some benevolent force outside ourselves. I also hope the film broadens their perception around Haitian immigration and why it’s happening and not to fall victim to the usual and incomplete narratives about how Haiti has arrived to the place it’s at now. 

What’s next for you and your team? 

I know Hans, the producer, is raising funds for his film NWA and I’m quite excited about that. I had a slight hand in the direction of the story. 

Me and James are in the process of shooting a feature, an anthology about Queens that is 25 percent complete. It’s an Homage to Queens and its immigrant communities. Queens is the most diverse place in the entire world. More languages are spoken in Queens than anywhere else in the world. I grew up in Queens, so did James so we thought it’s an interesting project to make.

Feature photo credit: The Forgotten Occupation