MONNAIE

The common usage for the word “money” in Haitian Créole is not the simple French conversion “argent” but rather the broader term “monnaie” whose French meaning is closer to “currency” – it has stuck probably because of its English-sounding phonetics. I have found the most peculiar behaviour around money in this culture. I’m sure a great thesis could be written about the reasons for this conduct as coming from colonial times and a developed set of responses originating in slavery and buccaneering. For my part, I can only speculate. I have experienced situations where the mere mention of money causes acute embarrassment accompanied by strange eye movements – with the person staring at the floor seemingly searching for the reasons for their embarrassment. In shops, you can expect change if you pay a larger sum for a purchase but in dealings with individuals and businesses closer to street level, giving back change is a rarity. When the price for goods or services rendered is mutually agreed upon a one-time payment is expected – whatever is given is taken whether the sum is more (usually the case) or less (not much less is accepted though) – the money given is either waved about in the open air or hastily stuffed in a pocket or purse. If you ask for change you’re told that it’s not available or that someone like an on-looker or family member has to go elsewhere to find it. Reactions become muddled, eyes drop and the end result is that the change is not forthcoming. A few decades ago Haiti created their own dollars with the sole purpose of being on par with American dollars – but the value of these Haitian dollars quickly slipped away and the system fell into chaos. Although many Haitians still reference their dollars, simple multiplication by eight will bring you to their real value in Haitian gourdes, the national currency – and forty-two gourdes will now buy one American dollar. Into this disorder is borne the disproportionate use of money. Scattered over the lush coastal landscape surrounding our campus are numerous half-built houses with curved walls, turrets and high gates – looking like modern ruins. These are, I’m told, financed by individuals from the Haitian Diaspora displaying their acquired riches – on projects that promise to build the community but which never quite come to fruition. The juxtaposition of these palaces-to-be with the stacked houses by the side of the main road and with local villages consisting of single room family dwellings can’t help but create confusing irony in the public psyche. Add to this the perception that all blancs have money to burn and you have a distorted overview of the mechanism of money, wealth and power. As I stand on our rocky cliffs – gazing out over the Caribbean – in post-twilight charcoal, watching dark birds flying overhead including a pelican looking very pterodactylus, I wonder how young Haitians will be able to transcend these convoluted ideas of money.

A few weeks ago I announced to our first year students that their final projects (four short films) would have a small allotment of money for production expenses – four hundred dollars was the figure declared by the school for each project. This news hit them like a bolt of electricity – it was like winning a lottery – four hundred or four million; it didn’t matter – it would be real cash in their hands they thought. The students began to discuss how they would spend the money without even a budget to reference or an idea of how their films would proceed. Just a week later though, the school directors admitted they made a mistake and that only two-hundred and fifty dollars would be made available for each project with the proviso that the money would only be given for declared legitimate expenses. This sent the class into a tailspin – amidst shouting and incriminations a male student broke away and accused the school directrice of stealing what was rightfully theirs and then lying about it. He was summarily ejected from the campus for his conduct, which caused the rest of the students, in a show of solidarity with him, to escalate their protests even further. In this mass pandemonium, a girl fainted and was carried to a bungalow where she remained unconscious until; at long last, she was transported to the hospital. This was a Friday afternoon so the weekend gave a little time for the dust to settle – which thankfully it did. On Monday the girl returned along with her classmates, all assumed their usual role as attentive film students although without their comrade who was still banished from the campus.