Bagas en lè: Léklènn
Byin avan mô granparen-yé té fé lakonnésens avék ènn-a-lòt dan laparwas Wès Baton-Rouj, mô gran-granmoman Addé – moman a mô granmoman koté mô popa – té né é élvé a Léklènn dan laparwas Lapwint-Koupé.(1) Sô kabònn, bati koté in bayou, té pa tro lwin nabitasyon Alma. Li té élvé en kouri-vini, pélé kréyol o kréyol Lalwizyàn dan tem-çala, osit. Sô kominoté té parlé ça é té fout pa mal apré langaj mérikin-la. Kan mô gran-granmoman té vini gran moun, li déménajé dan Lavil, dan Nouvèl-Òléan. Li kité sô kabònn ki té fé avék sip lokal-yé drét lá akoté bayou-la. Çila ki té gin sochènn kalité lénérji.
Bagas en lè shèrshé shalè trouvé dan bwa.
Pe moun té konnin ki kalité sip yé té sèrvi pou bati kabònn-yé koté Lafòs Rivyè, mé særtin trétè, konm mô gran-granmoman, té kwa ça isit: pou dibwa pou gin in lénérji tèlmen fòr, tèlmen sho, ça dwa ét trété avék likid ki dou, ki blé, ki rouj. Pa dolo. Disan. Pa dolo. Disan. É disik. San disan, sô lénérji sé vini féb féb. Kan Addé kité kabònn-çala pou kouri viv dan Lavil ki t'ê vini mérikin, çé ça ki té rivé.(2)
Bagas en lè shèrshé shalè trouvé dan bwa.
In bon boudtem té pasé avan kominoté-la wá in shanjmen dan bayou-la. Ina dé gro dézè enratour li astè, lá.(3) Pi bayou-la té vini sék sék é plin léféy. Afòs moun mouyé dékònn avék dolo ki sòr larivyè, kanal, é bayou konm dabitid, pèsonn té jonglé apré ça enkò. Ènn jou, in fenm té prommné dan bayou Fuziyé pou profité joli soléy lotonn-la. Li tendé ditrin krazé, ça fé li sòtí shèrshé ki yé té gin laba koté kabònn-la. Koulé. Koulé. Dolo t'ê bouyonnin. Dolo t'ê galopé. Fenm brav-çala rentré. Li shèrshé shak shanm a koushé. Li shèrshé kakatwa. Lá dan lakizinn, li ouvrí ladépens é trouvé dékònn li janmin konnin avan – in kalité kròsh ki gaddé pròsh paréy riban vyolé.
Bagas en lè shèrshé shalè trouvé dan bwa.
Kan li té pli vyé, mô gran-granmoman té parlé apré sô lavi a Léklènn kan li té konnin vizité avék sô famiy enho lari Lorraine. Asit entour latab-la, yé té konnin kozé dan lakizinn a mô granparen dévan mô popa é mô tant ki té pa kapab komprenn okin listwa yé rakonté. Apepré swasant an apré, mo kourí shèrshé kabònn-çala avék in zanmi. Nouzòt renkontré in fenm dan in gran lamézon pa tro lwin bayou-la. Li rakonté nou kabònn-la té vini tro vyé pou chombo sochin pwâ. Té dí nou ça tombé dan bayou Fuziyé, ça fé yé té enlévé ça ina jish kèk lannin avan. Mo toujou kwa ina in lòt kishò sèlmen in défin trétèz kapab rakonté.
Bagas en lè kontinnwé shèrshé shalè.
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1. Addé: manyè kréyolizé pou ékri Addai.
2. ê: in markè avan væb-yé ki indiké in aksyon en progré; sèrvi konm "apé" ou "ap" dan "y'apé". Li prononsé paréy "é". Trouvé en tradisyon dan laparwas Lapwint-Koupé.
3. dézè: klo dékònn. enratour: alentour, otour.
Flying Bagasse: Lakeland
Well before my grandparents came to know one another in West Baton Rouge, my great grandmother Addai – the mother of my grandmother on my father's side – was born and raised in Lakeland in Pointe Coupée Parish. Her cabin, built next to a bayou, was not too far from Alma Plantation. She was raised in Kouri-Vini, called Creole or Louisiana Creole at that time, as well. Her community spoke it, too, and didn't care much about English. When my great grandmother grew up, she moved to the City, to New Orleans. Built with cypress that came from the surrounding land, the cabin she left next to the bayou had its own kind of energy.
Flying bagasse searches for warmth found in the woods.
Few people knew which kind of cypress was used in cabins next to False River, but certain traditional healers, like my great grandmother, had an idea about it: for wood to have an energy so strong, so hot, it must be treated with liquid which is sweet, which is blue, which is red. Not water. Blood. Not water. Blood. And sugar. Without blood, its energy would become faint faint. When Addai left that cabin to go live in the city that was becoming American, that's exactly what happened.
Flying bagasse searches for warmth found in the woods.
Some years passed before the community saw a change in the bayou. Two large sugarcane fields framed it now. Then, the bayou became dry dry and full of leaves. Since people watered sugarcane with water that came from the rivers, canals, and bayous as usual, no one thought about it again. One day, a woman took a stroll in Bayou Fusilier to enjoy the beautiful autumn sun. She heard a crushing noise, so she went to find out what was down there next to the cabin. Leaking. Leaking. Water was boiling. Water was flowing. That brave woman entered. She searched each bedroom. She searched the bathroom. There in the kitchen, she opened the pantry and found sugarcane that she had never seen before – a gnarled and twisted type that closely resembled purple ribbon.
Flying bagasse searches for warmth found in the woods.
When she was much older, my great grandmother spoke about her life in Lakeland when she would visit with her family on Lorraine Street. Seated around the table, they would chat in my grandmother's kitchen in front of my dad and my aunt who were unable to understand any of the stories they told. About sixty years later, I went to find that cabin with a friend. We met a woman in a large house not too far from the bayou. She told us the cabin had become too old to hold its own weight. Told us it fell into Bayou Fusilier, so they had it removed just a few years earlier. I still believe there's something else that only a late healer could tell.
Flying bagasse continues to search for warmth.
Image credit: Kevin Duffy
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