Zahra Gordon

Ayiti will forever be dear to my heart; not because of the great people I met and reconnected with at this year’s Caribbean Studies Association conference, but for the revolution that continues in the rhythm of the people and those beautiful, woke children I met at Guilou Beach.

Last Friday, I ventured to the Iron Market and Guilou Beach with three friends. As evident as Africa is on the streets of Port au Prince and in the bartering necessary for purchases at the market, it was at the beach where 1804 lived and breathed.

Guilou is a “local” beach about 45 minutes outside of the capital. The shoreline is densely populated with restaurants, bars, hotels, beach facilities and homes. When we got there, we found a beach flooded with playing children, horny, half-drunk teenagers and young adults, older adults, lovers, hustlers, everyday people. Our informal tour guide, Uncle Bob, explained that many schools had just completed exams and beach outings were customary celebration.

The soundtrack to these field trips made the scene ever more beautiful. The DJs played modern Afro Beat, zouk, kompa, dancehall, hip-hop and even soca. And the patrons knew the lyrics to and loved tracks by Eddie Kenzo, Yemi Alade, Wiz Kid,  Davido, Charly Black, Cloud 5, Drake. One of my friends is Ghanian and she noticed that the DJ even played local Ghanian music – like not for US taste buds type local. Every fibre of their movements – slightly bent backs and knees, the raised hands, the hips, the way their heads bounced – screamed of tradition.

This was not the type of  party where you played that one Timaya track because he was featured on a Machel Montano song. This was the type of party where Pan Africanism was praxis, part and parcel of the lifestyle, of their identities and beings. This was the type of party where Africa provided the introduction and verses and the music of her diaspora became the chorus of a freedom song. 

Of the four of us tourists, three were wearing African print head wraps. We were obviously foreign and many thought we came directly from the continent. A little girl with the cutest twist-out asked where we were from. She thought we spoke Kreyol because she has a teacher from the continent who does. Her friend wanted to know if we knew the Koffi Anan dance. Another young couple came up to me and the boyfriend told me his girlfriend liked my “fashion.” They also asked what part of Africa I was from. When my  Ghanian friend spoke of her heritage there was excitement.

These children didn’t need intellectualism because they were already doing the real work of loving and appreciating Africa in all her forms.

At Guilou Beach we drank coconut water, ate roast corn, mangoes and my favourite, Tassot. We supported local vendors. We rode on a pirogue and were amazed by the deep water diving of our 17-year-old boat operator, Edwin. We basked in the joy of it all however fleeting. This is what revolutions were fought and won for: for children to play, teenagers to dance, for those of us torn from the continent to be proud of our heritage.

Photos below from the trip to Guilou.