Wyclef Jean
I remember running outside when it rained to catch drops on my tongue for drinking water. I remember running naked in the streets, laughing and dancing as the water splashed on my face. I remember eating mud to pacify the hunger in my stomach. I remember we didn't have money for basic needs; we didn't even have any clothes. Yet...I remember being happy. I remember feeling joy in the midst of that poverty, a joy built on the spirit of Haiti, and I remember being OK. These are my memories of a place called Croix-des-Bou-quets, Haiti. From there to New York City is a long way, but some things will always be a part of you. Every time I go back to Haiti, I have an almost physical reaction to my homeland. It is an indescribable energy that is unleashed even before the plane touches down. I gaze out at the striking, majestic mountains as the plane makes its approach. I brace for the inescapable heat that greets you upon landing. It hits me; I am home.
The people of Haiti, especially her kids, are my family. No matter how long I've been away, my people always welcome me back with open arms. When I look into their eyes, I see myself, and I am able to savour The connection that we share to a past that I have never really left. That connection came calling unexpectedly on a stormy June night in the summer of 2004. On the advice of a friend, I sat down with my partners to watch raw footage of a documentary by a Danish filmmaker, Asger Leth and his Serbian cinematographer and co-director Milos Loncarevic. Set in a teeming, violent slum on the outskirts of Port-au Prince, GHOSTS OFCITÉ SOLEIL tells the story of the Haitian 2pac, a gang leader. I guess it was somehow fitting that it was raining that summer night. It was as if the lightning from the storm outside suddenly struck all of us inside. As I sat there in my studio, mesmerized by the images on the screen, my instinctive reaction was to hop on a plane for Haiti the next day. Why? I needed to understand. I needed to see these kids with my own eyes and not through the lens of a camera. I needed them to tell me what had happened to that Haitian spirit from my childhood. I needed to understand why their lives had such potential, yet their eyes were filled with so much rage and pain. And I needed to figure out what I could do to change that. 2pac, and so many of the kids like him in Haiti, have been completely written off by the outside world. It's easy to discard those that seem so different, so less than.
They make up faceless statistics in a faraway land and seemingly have nothing to offer to the world. But this movie and the images in this book refuse to let you get away with that, challenging the way that we tolerate the misery around us. The faces on these pages tell you that something has gone horribly wrong in Haiti. But then you realize that there is more to the story. After seeing GHOSTS OFCITÉ SOLEIL, I couldn't shake the image of 2pac from my mind – or any of the other kids desperately trying to find a way out of the mess that was their lives. Of course, music is part of the reason that I identified with them so immediately. 2pac wanted to be a rapper. While living in the Brooklyn projects, my mom put a guitar in my hand. Adjusting to a new, hostile culture, learning a new language, living with the typical angst of a teenage boy - music became my refuge. It saved my life; 2pac looked to it for his salvation as well. But this movie is about much more than a kid who wanted to rap. Whether you are a gang leader in the poorest country in the Western hemisphere or a successful executive in the richest, everyone has dreams, everyone feels pain. GHOSTS OFCITÉ SOLEIL is about the dreams that we all have, the kind that you tuck away only to pull out in the most private of moments. It painstakingly lays bare all of the elements - love, hope, pain, despair- that make 2pac as human as you and I.
In some of the songs from the soundtrack of GHOSTS OFCITÉ SOLEIL, I blend 2pac's music with my own. I work to bring his unique talent, his dreams, his distinctive vision to the world. In other tunes, I try to capture the power of the movie itself, creating tracks that mirror its chaos and serenity - the paradox that is Haiti. This book does the same. You cannot help but to look at the searing, haunting images on these pages and not grasp the beauty and tragedy and potential of 2pac's life - you will never be able to dismiss these images as the faces of expendable human beings. I may have shared stages with kings and presidents all over the world, a long, long way from Croix-des-Bouquets, but I will never forget my beginnings. I may have received awards and accolades at the highest levels, but I will always be able to look at anyone in the eye and connect at that fundamental human level. I may have some of the creature comforts of American fame and fortune, but my work will always reflect and pay tribute to what is uniquely Haitian and yet unmistakably universal. Always reaching back for those who come after me, I choose to live my life in a way that proves worthy of the blessings that I have received. How will you live yours?
