A work in 3 movements
Tale (Generations of suffering)
Exodus
Hope
When I was approached by Roderick and Joan Nordell (my in-laws) about this
commission for the Borromeo String Quartet, my first reaction was to write a
piece that reflected the different paintings of the "Haitian Art Today"
exhibition. I started by taking a closer look at the Haitian paintings from
my own collection. The more I looked, the more I wanted to tell a story, their
story. My story is the kind the media likes: raised in "the poorest country
in the western hemisphere", studying classical music against all odds,
having a very lucrative career, then securing an influential position in one
of the finest universities in the state of Minnesota.
Such is not the case for the millions of immigrants, not just the Haitians.
They are forced to leave their country, some because of political persecution,
but most for economic reasons. How can a mother or father just sit and watch
while their own children go hungry day after day and just waste away?
This is the story that does not make the headlines. Very few newspapers, radio
or TV stations will do an in-depth report about other nations unjustly suffering
and give it the kind of exposure that it deserves. If it gets reported at all,
it gets buried in some obscure column (next to the classifieds?) or some odd
time when no one is watching anyway! We want to hear about the rich and famous,
and dream a little that someday we might have a taste of that 15-minute of fame,
not realizing that for billions of people we are already living their dreams.
By Christmas 2002, war was looming in the horizon! War in Iraq, Israel and Palestine,
war in Africa, increase tension between India and Pakistan, riots in Venezuela,
Argentina and Brazil, more innocent people would be bombarded and would have
to flee, save their lives and the lives of their children and parents. This
is the story of "Exodus".
The first movement "Tale" is also subtitled Generations of suffering.
It opens with the familiar Haitian "cric-crac". As in many cultures,
this simple "call and response" is a signal that a story is about
to be told and that all those interested would quiet down and commit to listening.
Doing it twice emphasizes the importance of the story. There is no specific
story associated with this movement. In "Exodus" the listener should
draw from his/her own life and experience to conjure up his/her own story.
The second movement "Exodus" is not about the trip itself but rather
the eve of. The back-and-forth on the decision - is it the right decision, is
it really worth it, will the children survive, can we make it? Once the decision
has been taken, the journey has begun. First, there is the feeling of isolation
(opening cello solo), next, family and friends come say their farewells, polytonal
and quite dissonant. In contrast, a group prayer, to wish them safe travel and
success in their quest for a better life, is played in the pure (and bland)
key of C major. Finally the travelers drift off to sleep, committing to memory
those final moments with friends and family.
"Hope". Having reached his/her destination, an immigrant takes stock
of his/her life, the loved ones he/she has left behind, the sweet smells of
his/her land of origin, his/her new situation and the final question: was is
it really worth it? Unfortunately, for many immigrants, especially those that
arrived under the veil of secrecy, life has not changed much. They have traded
one form of persecution for another. They live on the fringes of poverty and
sometimes well below it. They are trapped and abused because they do not have
the legal documents that entitle them protection under the law. "Hope"
ends abruptly in a fit of rage (in the key of A flat minor) and the hope that
their children will not suffer the same fate.
My sincere gratitude goes to the Borromeo String Quartet, especially Nick Kitchen,
for agreeing to take on this project, and giving me voice. I have known Nick
Kitchen, it seems my entire life. In my teens, his mother, Dorothy, taught me
(against my will at times) to play the violin. Nick, then a precocious 6-year
old, taught me the discipline and the dedication required with making good music.
I have always looked up to Nick Kitchen, half my age then, who could do on the
violin what my hands would not allow me to do.
Growing up in Haiti, we did not have the constant distraction of television,
video games and other necessary "evils". Holy Trinity School, under
the direction of the Episcopal Church of Haiti, provided an outlet for many
teenagers. We found the joy of playing classical music together and learning
about something that the rest of the "civilized" world benefited from.
Music opened many doors. In 1973, under the supervision and leadership of the
late Sister Anne-Marie, a bus-load of kids went on a tour of the United States
and play for a wide and varied audience. A relationship between the Episcopal
Church of Haiti and the Boston Symphony was forged. Before long, members of
the BSO would be going to Haiti to take part in the 3-week Summer Camp and working
with Haitian students.
My gratitude to the Haitian Art Today
Organization for recognizing the value of this project and bringing it to fruition.
You too are giving them a voice!
My deepest and most sincere thanks to the Nordells. Thank you for the opportunity
and your trust to write this piece (I hope it meets your expectations). Thank
you for keeping me after me and checking up on my progress. You are the best
in-laws anyone could ask for.
To my mother, who was a strong role model and a person of deep conviction, to
my "over-achieving" siblings who never doubted me and gave me a shoulder
to lean on when things were not going well, I say: "thank you".
Last but not least, to my wife (Elizabeth) and kids (Ella and Alexandre a.k.a.
Popo), thank you for your unconditional love and support, and surviving
the many cranky and solitary days. I love you all!