After missing its initial runs in Port-au-Prince in 2003 (two sold out shows - both with standing ovations) and a showing in Miami an 2006, I finally lucked out this summer and got to see Florence Jean Louis Dupuy's Haitian adaptation of Eve Ensler's Vagina Monologues - or rather, Pawòl Chouchoun (a common Haitian Creole euphemism for, you know, down there). For those who don't know the work, Wikipedia sums it up pretty nicely:
Every monologue somehow relates to the vagina, be it through sex, love, rape, menstruation, mutilation, masturbation, birth, orgasm, the variety of names for the vagina, or simply as a physical aspect of the body. A recurring theme throughout the piece is the vagina as a tool of female empowerment, and the ultimate embodiment of individuality.
I had both read the play and seen the DVD way back when, but it was my first time seeing it live and it was im-pec-ca-ble. The acting, the directing, the staging - all of it top-notch.
A week before the show I got to sneak into a radio interview with the director and two of the performers, thanks to Maguy Metellus' initiative. Ms. Dupuy highlighted the difficulties of Haitian theater production - reuniting her original cast required bringing folks in from at least 3 different countries! She also talked to the obvious taboo about the subject matter, and the major linguistic and cultural debate (which has been ranging with the troupe since the first rehearsal). Once you use an agreed-upon euphemism for the title, the major bone of contention is well, what's the true, neutral name for it?
Because where in English and French you have the comparatively unloaded vulva/vagina (vulve/vagin); in Haitian Creole the Official Stance is that vulva is koko, vagina is twou koko (vulva hole), clitoris is krèk or tèt krèk. None of these I'd be able to say out loud in front of "polite company". I'd probably get pscychsomatic lockjaw if I tried to say 'em in front of my parents.
I think there's a class/linguistic phenomonenon where in the middle class erotophobia and internalized racism has removed even the words for sexual organs and sexual activities from our everyday creole. They're labeled strictly raunch, which compounds the association of Haitian Creole with all that is backwards, filthy, low and, well, "oversexed and uncivilized African". It takes a lot of nerve in this context to put on Pawòl Chouchoun, when at the time of its original production a few of the cast members were young women barely out of high school.
It was a pure joy to see how by mid-point the audience1 was ad-libbing, commenting, whooping it up and "say it sista!"-ing at will. And of course, the closing scene was just electric!
There was, however, an unfortunate low point. A scene on female genital mutilation chose to go with the racist "let's make of fun of those funny Africans with their weird accents" approach. Which was totally dismaying (and maybe a subconscious way to get the internalized racism out?).
That blemish aside, Pawòl Chouchoun marks a watershed moment both in Haitian theatre and social history, and is a testament to the stubbornness of Haitian creators who persevere despite overwhelming odds.
Do not miss this play!
Also: check out Haïti en Folie's [the hosting festival] press release after the play - complete with pictures of the cast and audience.
- 1. Overwhelmingly female, overwhelmingly middle-aged and lower/middle class.
