… when my turn comes into the air
I will raise up a cry so violent
that I will spatter the sky utterly
and by my shredded branches
and by the insolent jet of my solemn wounded bole
I shall command the islands to exist
– from “Lost Body”, by Aimé Césaire, trans. E. Anthony Hurley (via The Caribbean Review of Books)
* * *
Aimé Césaire – Martinican poet, politician and consummate West Indian – passed away today at the age of 94. It is not often that politics and poetry go together, but when they do, the West Indies is as fertile an environment as any for the two to coexist. Césaire seamlessly blended his love for language, ideas and writing into his political life, which spanned almost 60 years.
Like many Caribbean intellectuals of the time, he was passionate about redefining his black identity (and that of his countrymen) in the face of colonial stereotypes and was drawn to the Soviet Union as an alternative model for human progress. He reportedly grew disillusioned with Communism, but remained firm in his anti-colonialism stance.
And today, a new generation of West Indians, whose freedoms can be at least partly attributed to the impact of his writings and political accomplishments, honours him…
Many have paid tribute with quotes or excerpts from Césaire's works. In Martinique, le blog de [moi] [Fr] posts an excerpt from Return to my native land (Cahier d'un retour au pays natal). In Trinidad, Nicholas Laughlin quotes a passage from Memorandum on My Martinique, while Antilles, the blog of The Caribbean Review of Books posts an excerpt from Lost Body.
Cap 21 Outre-Mer writes that Césaire was an “icon for a people in their quest for a post-colonial identity,” who will be remembered not only for his poetry, but for his politics:
A côté de son engagement littéraire et culturel, je tiens à saluer également son très fort engagement en politique, où, maire de Fort-de-France pendant 56 ans, Aimé Césaire aura été un exemple pour tous les hommes politiques antillais, l’exemple d’un homme politique qui a toujours gouverné avec grandeur, pour ses idées, pour ses concitoyens, pour son peuple et surtout pour un idéal commun.
C’est un grand homme qui nous quitte aujourd’hui ; la France, l’Outre-Mer, nous lui sommes tous reconnaissants.
Aside from his literary and cultural contributions, I would also like to honor his strong political engagement where, as mayor of Fort-de-France for 56 years, Aimé Césaire was an example for all Antillian politicians, an example of a politician who always governed with greatness for his ideas, for his fellow citizen, for his people and above all for a common purpose.
It is a great man who leaves us today; France, the Overseas Departments, we are all in his debt.
Of course, Césaire's reach extends far beyond his native Martinique or the Caribbean.
Senegalese blogger Souleymane Dieye [Fr] has several posts honoring Césaire, including one with a photograph of the poet during a visit to Senegal.
In a post titled “Our Beloved Césaire” (Notre Césaire aimé), Dieye writes, “Papa poet is a magnificent man. He is glorious. This man of the people gave Martinique back her dignity…” and quotes Senegalese writer and philosopher, Hamidou Dia, who told local media today, “Aimé Césaire gave us back our pride as Africans.”
In Congo-Kinshasa, Forum Realisance writes this tribute:
A mon frère le plus doué, mon maître, la voix de ma conscience et celle de notre éternel combat humain ; c´est bien de peine que tu ne sois plus des nôtres ! Et déjà, devant notre champ de bataille aux duels acharnés, ton départ nous attriste et nous esseule…
Repose en paix, enfant aimé du continent éternel. Puisse nos prières émues et attendries te bercer ce voyage silencieux et sans retour qui est maintenant le tien. Nous ne t´oublierons jamais, car au fond de l´amour chaleureux de tous les femmes et hommes de bonne foi, ta droiture restera légendaire.
To my brilliant brother, my master, the voice of my conscience and of our eternal human struggle; we are grieved you will no longer be among us! Before our bitter battlefield, we are saddened and forsaken by your departure…
Rest in peace, beloved child of the eternal continent. May our prayers and words nourish you in this silent journey which is now yours, and from which there is no return. We will never forget you, because in the warm love of all the men and women of faith, your righteousness will remain legendary.
Keith Walker told me a story that I only remember vague details of, but I'll tell what I can of it here. He used it to explain to me when he had fallen in love with Césaire's work himself. He was at school in France, and his roommate had covered the ceiling over his bed with writing — beautiful, stunning, strange words. Keith asked him what it was, and learned that it was lines from Césaire's great poem “Notebook of a Return to the Native Land” — his roommate had written those lines above his bed so he would see them just before he fell into sleep and be welcomed by them every morning. Keith was stunned that a poem could have such power for a person, and he sought out Césaire's work (and eventually Césaire himself). He said that in Martinique he went to a political rally that was as much like an interactive poetry reading as it was a political event, and that what really impressed him was that so many ordinary people held this supposedly “difficult” writing so close to their hearts.
Earlier this week in Togo, as the news of Césaire's hospitalization and declining health spread around the world, writer Kangi Alem wondered how best to honor his memory. Alem wasn't too happy that some French politicians have called for Césaire's induction into the Pantheon (as they have other black luminaries):
Bien sûr qu’il va mourir, le poète rebelle, mais bien sûr, à cet âge-là, il ne reste aux poètes qu’à passer à l’immortalité. Pas finir au Panthéon, idée curieuse que certains brandissent ces jours-ci, et qui me paraît fumeuse et inutilement polémique, tant la stature de Césaire, son combat sont aux antipodes de ce type de reconnaissance-là. M’étonnerait d’ailleurs que le poète lui-même fût sensible à cet honneur. Mais trêve de blabla au chevet de l’illustre poète pas encore disparu. Mais il mourra, Césaire, et nous le célébrerons!
Avec sa mort, disparaîtra la dernière figure du trio fondateur de la Négritude, mouvement littéraire et idéologique qui a tant fait couler et nous a tous marqué, artistes et écrivains africains, d’une manière ou d’une autre. Comment dire merci et adieu au poète martiniquais? Sur ce blog, Timba m’a donné l’idée. Et si chacun nous donnait une citation d’un texte d’Aimé Césaire qui l’a marqué? Façon de se souvenir de lui et de parcourir à notre façon son héritage en théâtre, poésie et essai. Adieu, poète, déjà immortel même de ton vivant. (K.A)
Alem chooses an excerpt from The Tragedy of King Christophe, a play Alem once performed at the Festival d'Avignon about Henri Christophe, a Haitian revolutionary leader who declared himself King of Haiti in 1811 and established a feudal system of lords.
Les mots du Roi Christophe, s’adressant à sa femme inquiète de le voir malmener son peuple, résonnent encore dans ma tête, violents, conjuratoires, inoubliables. Du grand Césaire, du bon Césaire, immanquablement poète même lorsqu’il écrit pour le théâtre.
Racisme et Histoire: Le Tabou writes:
Aimé Césaire est mort aujourd'hui. J'espère que son héritage ne sera ni sali, ni banni. Monsieur Césaire, votre Humanité reste bien vivante dans mon coeur.
Caribbean Free Radio posted a photograph and just three simple words:
Adieu, Aimé Césaire.
How will you remember him?
Janine Mendes-Franco contributed to this post.