Towards the end of Edwidge Danticat's new novel The Farming of Bones,
a man says "Famous men never truly die... It is only those nameless and
faceless who vanish like smoke in the early morning air." The time is 1937, the
place the island which Haiti and The Dominican Republic share. Through the eyes
of the narrator, a Haitian woman named Amabelle working as a domestic servant
in the Dominican Republic, we have just seen scores of Haitians massacred in
an outbreak of pure xenophobic malevolence orchestrated by the Domincan
Republic's leader, General Rafael Trujillo. None of those killed is
anyone famous, nearly all the slaughtered are poor Haitians working as cheap
labor in the neighboring country, but Amabelle's story serves to refute those
words spoken about the nameless and faceless of the earth. In this book, they
are remembered, and in her story they do have names and faces.
The Farming of Bones is a term the Haitian field workers use to
describe their life of cutting cane. While Amabelle is fortunate enough to be
working as a household servant to a wealthy Dominican family, most of her friends
toil for the sugar mill owners. They have left Haiti and come to the
Dominican Republic because their job prospects at home are even bleaker than in
their adopted country. And so this book is very much about exile, what it means
to live in one place and yearn for another.
Amabelle's lover Sebastian says, "Sometimes the people in the
fields, when they're tired and angry, they say we're an orphaned people....They
say we are the burnt crud at the bottom of the pot. They say some people don't
belong anywhere and that's us. I say we are a group of vwayaje,
wayfarers."
Not only the poor and desperate for work are living in exile; so is
the patriach of the household Amabelle lives in. Born in Spain to a
comfortable family, he has somehow landed in the Caribbean, having fought "for
colonies with Los Estados Unidos" in the Spanish-American War of 1898. Now, he
sits every night by his radio listening to bulletins from Spain about the Civil
War raging there. And Amabelle can sympathize with him. She says, "Like me,
Papi had been displaced from his native land; he felt himself the orphaned
child of a now orphaned people. Perhaps this was why he often seemed more kindly
disposed to the strangers for whom this side of the island had not always
been home."
Exile increases the poignancy of memory, and nearly everyone in this
book is obsessed with remembering things. Amabelle constantly thinks of her
parents who drowned in a river when she was young. She sees them in
dreams when they come alive again for her, talks of them to her lover who in
turn talks to her of his childhood memories of Haiti. Poor though they are,
there is a sense of community among all the displaced Haitians, and one of
their priests, Father Romain, emphasizes how important this is: "In his sermons
to the Haitian congregants of the valley he often reminded everyone of
common ties: language, foods, history, carnival, songs, tales, and prayers.
His creed was one of memory, how remembering--though sometimes painful--can
make you strong."
Not strong enough, though. Violence erupts very quickly, about
halfway through the book, and Amabelle has to flee. Along with four or five
others, she abruptly leaves everything behind and treks through the mountains to
try to make her way back to Haiti. It is a journey that will be perilous
and bring much grief to Amabelle...
Sad and powerful, The Farming of Bones is a beautifully written
book. Edwidge Danticat has an effortless style that seems as natural as a
flowing stream. Her simple but sensuous language brings her tropical world to
life; one can feel the heat, see the luxuriant colors, taste the spicy foods.
The tone of her narrator remains level throughout, and this understated
directness, even in the face of brutality and horror, adds to the
story's effectiveness. Her Amabelle is a flesh and blood woman, no mouthpiece for
any kind of cant. We share in her joys and sorrows, her dreams, memories, and
day to day struggles. Edwidge Danticat has chosen to write about a real event,
the Haitian massacre of 1937, from the point of view of one "small" person
and from this has etched an indelible work of art. Highly recommended.
Reviewed by Scott Adlerberg
