Un ailleurs à soi by Emmelie Prophète (review)

Admirers of Haitian fiction in which remarkable character creations take center stage are presented with meticulous portraiture in a recent release by one of that country's most respected authors. Those who previously have been moved by Emmelie Prophète's portrayals of marginalized individuals struggling within Haiti's impoverished class will equally appreciate her latest narrative in which she weaves the theme of a salutary ailleurs into the lives of two young women, Maritou, a student "à la faculté des sciences humaines qu'elle détestait" (9), and Lucie, a waitress/prostitute at Ayizan, a trendy hotel bar hosting foreigners as well as a local clientele. The novel opens with the couple finishing another late night together, as is their habit, with Maritou reading aloud book passages which most often evoke liberation and escape: "Les jeunes Nigériennes rêvent d'aller vivre à Amsterdam" (7). The two have been together for several months, mutually fulfilling their personal needs for emotional and sexual intimacy since they now have found a bit of independence from their families that left them with crosses to bear from their scarring childhoods. Lucie's past includes being stifled by the "ambiance dévote, ascétique qui avait toujours régné dans la maison de ses parents" (17). Moreover, as the text reveals, this ostensible parental piety existed purely disingenuously since Lucie was forced to live with the dreadfulness of having become "un objet de désir de son père" (86) and endured, along with her brothers, verbal and physical abuse from both parents. Badou, the youngest and most sensitive of the four brothers, and the one with whom Lucie feels the closest bond, suffered regular beatings by his father and most often expressed himself by sketching drawings of monsters in the family's midst. For her part, Maritou carries the heavier burden of negative family history having come into the world illegitimately and must constantly work to refrain herself from vomiting to ward off her demons: "Vomir était son bouclier contre les agressions extérieures" (11). Regularly ridiculed and resented by her much older sibling, Jeannette, and loved, though not warmly, by her more attentive sister, Clémence, Maritou recalls painful moments of her youth when her manlike gestures and clothing prompted her classmates to treat her with scorn: "Elle avait été toujours discriminée, regardée comme une bête curieuse. Il y avait toujours eu suspicion sur sa sexualité" (9). As the narrative progresses, both women will experience interactions which help determine their futures and individually chosen vision of ailleurs. Maritou will interact with Simone, "totalement habitée par le désir de partir" (81), as well as her presumed deceased father. Lucie forms a less monetized relationship with Gérard, one of the Ayizan regulars: "Elle l'emmenait chez elle et ne le fit pas payer" (93). Un ailleurs à soi presents the struggle to create a successful path forward when faced with an injurious family background. Prophète's use of same-sex relations as a backdrop to this difficult quest echoes the author's well-known public support in Haiti today for societal acceptance of one's individual sexuality.