Children in the village try to squeeze into the picture. (Photo by Christian Doll, © 2009)

Angeline: Where does the name “Oyat” come from?
Christian: In Uganda, I lived with people from the Acholi tribe, who gave me this Acholi name. Most African names, particularly in Uganda, come from the condition of one’s birth, like their birth order or if they are born after twins or during a rainstorm, or if they have a birthmark. “Oyat” is usually given to people born under unusual circumstances. Few people aside from elders know the meanings of all the names, though. So, the student who gave it to me (a former child soldier who was also an amazing dancer and “footballer”) thought that it meant “an unusual person.” This was kind of a joke because there I was, the only white person for miles and miles living in the middle of a Ugandan village, living like the people there, trying to help and trying to learn the language. Pretty damn unusual. Being an atheist named “Christian” can get cumbersome, so I’ve been using the name Oyat more and more and have been publishing everything online under it.

A: How well-prepared do you think were for living and working in Uganda?
C: Well, I was a refugee case manager for a few months in Chicago right before I left and I made several African friends who I talked to extensively, so I think that prepared me a little bit for some of the cultural aspects, though not many. Since I didn’t know what country I was going to until a few months before, I didn’t get to read up all that much on Uganda and knew just what most people think of: Idi Amin. Plus, I read all that I could about the Peace Corps and talked to a bunch of RPCVs (Returned Peace Corps Volunteers). Honestly, though, nothing could have possibly prepared me for living in a developing country and working in a developing country.

Christian with one of the Rwots (Acholi chiefs) and his wife at their house in Gulu. (Photo by Christian Doll, © 2009)

A: How has this experience affected your perspective as a documentary filmmaker?
C: It has made me more committed than ever for having any film project I work on from now on arise organically from the people I’m working with. There are so many documentaries about the developing world that force a western or even a local but privileged perspective upon the material. There was a terrible documentary made about the organization I worked with that was narrated by a British woman and showed the people who were served by my organization doing things but only interviewed one of them. It was all from the frame of reference of the filmmakers. In documentary, perspective is everything, and after living there and seeing so many media projects imposed on people, I would never work on something that wasn’t mostly or entirely shot and planned by the people it was about. I didn’t get a chance to make my film there because I ran out of time and had so many more pressing needs, but my plan was to have a few of the kids I worked with decide how they wanted to document their lives and then train them and work with them to do it. They would dictate what to film, how, and who to interview. I’m still planning on going back and doing it at some point, but we’ll see when I can find the time to sit down and write the grant.

Jarrod sticks his tongue out at Christian. (Photo by Christian Doll, © 2009)

A: In what forms of cultural exchange did you engage while in Uganda? How do you propose to continue the dialogue back here in Chicago?
C: Everything was a cultural exchange. I mean, there were more big ticket cultural events I attended like wedding preparations and these things they call “introduction ceremonies.” And I learned some of the dances a little and I learned the language of the people I lived with. But every hour of every day was a cultural exchange, where I was sharing myself and continuing to gain a deeper understanding of everyone I lived with. After a while, you start to lose yourself in the place around you. When it becomes your way of life too, it stops being so foreign.

A: What was it like killing a chicken with your bare hands?
C: Hahaha. Well, I used a knife, so it wasn’t really with my bare hands. The first thing I killed was a duck, and I felt a little weird about it afterward, especially since it was much harder to kill than a chicken and it took a lot longer. Every time I thought about it, I felt horrible, but that only lasted a few days. Then, I was ready to do it again. Then, I killed my first chicken, which was a lot easier, but it slipped out from under my feet and started hopping around. You always hear about chickens running around with no heads, but no one tells you that they still squawk from the body with no head and that the head moves around on its own. That’s what’s really freaky. By the time I got to the one I killed on the YouTube video, I was pretty much showing off for everyone that it didn’t bother me at all. Honestly, I felt like if I wasn’t able to go through with killing things when that was the only way to have fresh meat in Africa, I should go vegan. The animals I ate in Uganda, though, are raised and killed a lot more humanely than the ones we raise in the United States. I think they have a different way of considering animals there because they are all around you, the farm animals at least, and they’re the way people sustain their livelihood. One of my neighbors stopped asking me for money at one point and would instead offer to sell me one of her chickens which she would raise until I was ready to eat it. It was like making an investment, in her and her children and in my next time hosting people at my hut.

A: What is the single most important thing you learned while in Uganda?
C: Corruption is real, poverty is real, the problems in Africa are vast and the wars have been devastating, and while outsiders can help a lot, anyone who does not aim every ounce of their work into empowering the people they are working with and working themselves out of a job is either ignorant of the situation around them or simply feeding their own ego.

Christian Doll is an ethnographer, documentary film maker, and essayist. He has worked supporting and developing organizations serving refugees, internally displaced people (IDPs), and the homeless. He hopes to continue to educate and move people to action on issues of social justice and human rights and empower the powerless through his work and documentary films. You can read his writing at oyatdoll.wordpress.com.

Ile-a-Vache, Haiti by Patrick Lucien, from the Facebook Group: Support Tourism in Haiti

Angeline: What is your relationship to Haiti? How many times have you visited?
Marie: I was born in Haiti in 1984 and moved to the United States with my parents and my older sister in 1989 at the age of 5. I left behind 3 brothers because of Visa Issues. I’ve only visited once–for one month–since I left.

A: What was it like the last time you visited? What were your impressions?
M: I was last in Haiti in 2000. Other members of my family visit Haiti frequently. For some reason I was always too busy and involved in other projects to visit. I regret that now. When I stepped off the plane in 2000, I experienced a culture shock. How could I experience a culture shock when it was my own culture? Everything is done differently in Haiti. The richness of tropical colors, the comforting smell of the roadside food, and the cacophony of scooters roaring, vendors yelling, people laughing or arguing in Port-Au-Prince all contribute to a startling experience. When you leave the airport the country and the people waste no time on introductions. You are thrown into the thick of it. I remember how big my sixteen year-old eyes grew, upon passing numerous shanty towns on the way to my brothers’ house. I grew up in the suburbs of New York City. Until then, this degree of poverty was never tangible to me. Only described.

A: What do you know about Voodoo?
M: I didn’t grow up with much knowledge of Voodoo. My family is Catholic. 80% of the Haitian population is Catholic. Some practice Voodoo along with Catholicism. It was something that was frowned upon in my immediate and extended family. I don’t view it negatively but I think it is misunderstood. This misunderstanding of Voodoo as “black magic” has made Haitian Diaspora very uncomfortable discussing it. It is unfortunate that a country with such a diverse wealth of history, art and culture would be minimized to “The Voodoo Country.” We want people to shift their focus from Voodoo dolls and chicken blood to other national treasures and pastimes.

A: What do you love most about Haiti? What do you wish could change about Haiti?
M: I think Haiti’s strengths are its people. We are strong, passionate, and not afraid to speak our mind (we are not a sugar coating people). These values are reflected in the traditional Haitian arts, like the musics Konpa, Rara, and Mizik rasin, as well as the visual arts and crafts of woodworking, painting and sculpture. Chicagoans can see some of this work in their own city at Nicole Gallery, a Haitian and Diaspora gallery, who are having a benefit this weekend for Centre D’Art de Port-Au-Prince, where its founder began her career as a curator and businesswoman. …I wish there was less corruption in Haiti. I don’t know how deep it goes because I don’t live there but I suspect those who need the help the most are often the last to reap the benefits of prosperity. I think this disaster has highlighted this problem for the whole world to see.

A: Do you feel your friends and coworkers–average Americans–have a good understanding of Haiti?
M: I think most people know what they have heard or read in the news. Sometimes its the Hollywood Voodoo version and other times its the embittered starving country version.

A: How do you feel about the way the American media has portrayed Haiti in recent years?
M: I don’t think Haiti has been misrepresented on the whole. I do think that the whole story has not been told. There are great things happening in Haiti that are not shown. Let’s show the progress that has been made. Stability in the government, roads being built, violence diminished. I was watching all the news networks during the first days of this disaster–like the rest of the world–and noticed a key moment. One of the anchors asked the field reporter if there was concern about violence “since Haiti was one of the most violent nations in the area.” The field reporter corrected the anchor stating that Haiti has a lower rate of violence compared to the rest of the Caribbean. This is a common misconception. I’m not saying it’s the safest place in the world but it certainty does not merit consistent reference as Among The Most Dangerous. That being said, I would still contact the US Embassy before going to know all the potential risks.

A: Haiti is the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere. How can Americans and Haitians work together to combat poverty and establish sustainable economic practice?
M: I think that the Haitian government needs to take a more active role in fostering sustainable farming because the land has been ravaged by slash and burn agriculture. This might already be a focus, but if so it needs to develop into a much larger program. Americans and others in the world should consider investing in Haitian business. A lot of business left Haiti a long time ago… We need renewed interest in Tourism. It’s a beautiful country with lots to offer. I know that there are various Haitian government entities pushing for more tourism to our side of the island. We need to rebrand the country.

A: Besides donating money, what are some creative ways we can help support our neighbors in Haiti?
M: I suggest that people who are interested do some research about the country. I really think knowledge is the first step.

Marie (middle, third from right) and her family in 2008

A: Last week I heard that up to hundreds of Haitian orphans will be arriving by plane to Chicago (via the Department of Child Welfare) in the coming weeks and are in need of French-speaking foster caretakers. What would you say to a Chicagoan who qualifies but is hesitant to invite a stranger and foreigner into their home, in order to urge them to reconsider?
M: These children need a smiling face. They have been through unimaginable trauma and just need someone to tell them that the world is not going to come crashing down again. Nothing special, just human kindness. Help if you can. Kindness knows no geographic boundaries or language barriers.

Recommended websites: Heritage Konpa, Facebook Group: Support Tourism in Haiti, Nicole Gallery

Marie Casimir is a Haitian-American writer and performer who lives in Chicago and was raised in New York State. She is currently the Communications Associate at Links Hall where she promotes the work of a diverse group of independent performing artists. Marie holds a B.A. in Journalism from Ithaca College, with a minor in Art History. Marie is currently pursuing a Masters Degree in Non-Profit Management at North Park University. She has family in Haiti who were fortunate to have survived the Earthquake. They are well and counting their blessings.