Ai… Ronin

Ai… Ronin

藍 浪人

I do not know when Japan invaded my heart leaving behind a deep fascination to understand more about the world cultures beyond America’s grip. I have met Haitians who traveled, stayed, and lived in Japan. As an artist I find Japanese Culture to be colorful yet very honorably disciplined. In my studies I find Zen to have some similarities of the Vodou beliefs about Nature, Gods, and Dying. Japan’s Kawaii cuteness and colorful charms only awakens my aches for lakay mwen feeling loneliness with a much deeper longing.

ハイチ
haichi

Maybe I used the Japanese language to distance myself from the pain of being born Haitian to only be exiled without a choice. Taken away at a very young age never to know home again.

Maybe I used the Japanese language to heal myself. I was forced to abandon my sweet douce Kreyol in 5th grade at ESL class and by the group of kids that ridiculed me. They never really spoke to me, only acknowledged to merely to count to three.

“Hey you, can you count to three for us?”
“One… Two… Tree…”
“Say three again!”
“Tree?” I heard them giggle and that left me deeply alone.

There is no honor in losing your culture or in losing yourself.
Yet I am no different, my shame is as deep as the Francophone Haitians who looked scornfully down at me for responding with dry mountain man Kreyol when besought in perfectly flowing French.

I am a man of indigo skin, of dark mysterious skin.
When I see the world I want to experience all of its colors
But not every color welcomes my cool indigo into its warm hues

I am an artist

Losing myself… Ai Yori Aoshi ~ Bluer than Indigo

Aiiro no Ronin

An Indigo Ronin a masterless samurai

藍
Indigo

a darker shade of blue

浪人
Ronin

a wave man
An indigo ronin…
A Haitian man, who is tossed about like a wave in the sea.

An Indigo man from,

ハイチ
haichi
Haiti

Still and always will be,

ハイチ人
haichijin
Haitian