“Jaspoa: We Don’t Respect Jaspoas”[1]
Jaspoa comes from the word diaspora; Haitians use it for their countrymen who live in Miami, Flatbush, Montreal or anywhere outside of Haiti. Many Jaspoas have a reputation for being show offs and forgetting about their families and the homeland they left behind. As more and more instructions and commands came in from far-off Hartford, Connecticut, I was reminded of the heavy influence Haitian Americans and other jaspoas play in the Haitian economic and political arena. Widson, a security guard in the richest state in the richest country in the world, was a powerbroker in the poorest town in one of the poorest countries in the world. The most oppressed in Hartford metamorphosed into a potential politician on the national stage in Haiti.
Widson ran a campaign from a reality far removed from that of his former neighbors. He only visited several times a year yet exercised this inordinate influence. The power came from money. Remittances from the United States are the number one source of income in Haiti. A state of complete and utter dependency exists on the neo-colonial scavenger whose economy was built up on the backs of Haitians, Dominicans, African-Americans and other oppressed nations. Many were afraid to bite the hand that fed them.
The Final Phone Call
There was another phone call from our main protagonist who intended to oversee my every move and breath: “No No Dan-yel. I like what you said but no. That is social work Dan-yel. This is politics. You cannot talk like that.” I tried to respond but our aspiring careerist did not take no for an answer. Widson delivered a fresh set of directives.
“You know Dan-yel the rich men from Haiti they like visits from the white man. They feel more important. Dan-yel what are you wearing? Oh no this will not do. We are sending for someone to retrieve new clothes for you. You are a distinguished guest Dan-yel. I need you to meet this rich man. You tell him I love my home town. You tell him everything I do here for Haiti.”
My sarcasm was now full blown: “So I tell him you work odd jobs as a security guard and mechanic in Connecticut and import cars to Haiti? That you largely neglect your two beautiful children and wife because you are too busy chasing other women then hiding your sins in the Catholic church?” He laughed nervously: “No. Dan-yel. That is very funny. Please take this seriously. You tell him I do so much for Haiti that I give money to street children. That I have a foundation. Please do not mention any of that other stuff Dan-yel.”
He instructed me to pass the phone back to George. He blamed George for our lack of success thus far: “Cousin: Give him food. He is moody when he is hungry. You know how white people are without food. Find out what he wants to eat.” I chuckled at the fact that he chalked up my epic failure to conform to his plans to the fact that I might be hungry. Widson refused to accept that I could only be who I am. I could only say what I believed in. So opportunistically focused on power, he was blind before all other perspectives.
It was clear Widson’s hard-headedness rivaled my own. I took the phone and stealthily put it on silent and buried it in my pocket. I told him we should go get a midnight snack ignoring the appointment that had been set up. Widson called back 17 times. This was far cry from the first time we visited Haiti together in 2001. Cell phones didn’t even exist then in Haiti. Now there were real time conversations occurring on Facebook and WhatsApp, traversing oceans and continents and deciding people’s fate. What to me was a joke and sheer carpetbaggery was the one political opportunity many people in Leste had.
Just as there had been a fusillade of phone calls recasting my destiny a few hours before, there was another flurry of ringing phones and Facebook exchanges. Just as quickly as Widson had bestowed gainful employment on me, he now relieved me of my duties. All I wanted was some griyo ak bannan with some friends to begin with.
[1] Lyrics from a Wyclef song.
Widson refused to accept that I can only be who I am. I could only say what I believe in. So opportunistically focused on power, he was blind before all other perspectives.
You’re The Man! You speak with great knowledge but only experience can highlight your bravery, and this situation certainly did just that. You held it together, in what I would have immediately considered a scary situation. I personally don’t think I would have been able to express exactly MY feelings without feeling a way about his. I know you probably felt like you were letting him down in a sense but ultimately you did what many can’t do, and that say what you mean, and mean what you say. Regardless of luxuries, power and other benefits were presented to you, you refused to speak anything but YOUR piece of mind.
It seems like he wanted you to be a pawn in his political agenda but you were more interested in your own journey and message, which is commendable because you were first and foremost protecting your integrity. You made the best of the situation while being true to you. Because I’m interested in sociology and psychology, I was intrigued by the the fact that these people did not know who you were but they believed your credibility as a politician, perhaps based on your looks, either your skin color, stature, confidence or whatever it may be. They were so ready to listen to you because you looked and sounded like you’d be important in the political field. I kinda see how people can have that mentality of “fake it ’til you make it”. If a charlatan can act like they’re important, they’ll be treated as such. I think the general public isn’t going into any social interaction thinking that they’re being duped or lied to. We listen but we don’t consider the reason or motivation for what they’re saying. Politicians are great at making themselves seem to be something that they aren’t especially when others are tailored and groomed to advocate for them.
It’s interesting how much Widson seemed to change from when you first knew him. Granted several years passed by, he didn’t seem to have the same morals that he started with. When you met him, he was also defending Haitian’s rights D.R. Years later, it seemed he was taking advantage of his own people. He had you going around to campaign for him, simply because he knew the people in his community would respect the words of a white man. I can only guess that earning more money and living in the US changed his ideas about who deserves rights and power. I would like to hear his side of this story.
What I can say about Daniel shaw is that he is a good friend. Widson must be grateful to have this great friend who go to Haity to speak for him. Daniel help widson to be the senator of representing leste.
Interesting read. Poltricks!!!! YOu have to love it!!!
I was wondering how long it was going to take before you set him straight. Good for you! Not too many ppl maintain their convictions especially when given status and power. You are among the few. Keep fighting the good fight.