More than four decades after she first published her debut novel Le Mal de Vivre [The Agony of Living], Nadine Magloire remains a literary enigma to many. Literary analyst and critic Dr. Myriam J.A. Chancy’s book Framing the Silence: Revolutionary Novels by Haitian Women was many an English speaker’s introduction to this trailblazing writer. Magloire who was born in the early 1930s in Haiti, studied in Port-au-Prince, then London, Paris, and Montreal. These days she lives in the latter city, having made it her home since the late 1970s. For those of us who are curious as to what it was the literary scene was like in Haiti in the late 1960s, and what it was like writing as a woman in Haitian society, Magloire is the person to look to.

Many literary critics agree that Magloire broke ground in Haitian literature, and is a model of feminism in 1960s and 1970s Haiti. In her writings, Magloire is bold, sassy and unflinching. In interviews, she doesn’t hold back. Here is what she had to say about her work, Haitian literature, and being regarded as one of Haiti’s literary pioneers.

Q & A

Do you remember the first work of literature that you wrote?
My first work is Le Mal de Vivre, the first version. I wrote it very quickly, almost without stopping. I was afraid of not getting to that point with it, in other words [the point] where the text is substantial enough to be considered, say, for publication. I had aborted a couple of drafts, just as I mentioned in my “mini-novel”: “This time around will I go beyond a first chapter?” I did worry about it. I wrote the way one walks, not knowing where I’m going. If the path leads nowhere, too bad. I’m used to it. For some time I forgot all about this writing thing, but it just wouldn’t die in me. I quickly released the first draft, a little too fast—in October or November 1967. After a rather praise-filled critical appraisal from Roger Gaillard, I thought I had not been clear enough. I expanded this first version a bit and I published the new text in 1968. This is the one we know. I suppose there are some copies in some libraries.

What do you remember of your childhood?
In the 2009 title Autopsie in Vivo, I say: “My childhood has never left me.” I’m not going to mention it here. I spoke about it at length in my book. Even at the ripe old age of 80 years, I still see my childhood in my dreams. It is curious, my dreams are for a distant past.

You’re a writer, and so is the protagonist in your first novel. Your name is Nadine, and your protagonist’s name in your novel is Claudine. Is the –dine ending just a coincidence—-after all that’s a popular suffix in girls’ names in Haitian culture, or is the novel autobiographical?
I’ll tell you a secret. My heroine in the beginning was called Annie. I changed her name to “Claudine” in order to use the nickname “Dinou” for her that my lover at the time gave me.

Your mother Carmen Brouard was a musical artist. Do you think that when you came on Haiti’s literary scene, the fact that your mother had been a cultural intrepid of sort, made it easier for people to accept the candor of your first novel?
Not at all. My mother, young, returning from Paris shocked Port-au-Prince. My book too. The first person I met after the release of Le Mal de Vivre told me, “Your novel exploded like a bomb!” People were shocked because no Haitian writer had talked about sex as freely as I did and I was a woman. In addition, I had a chapter that criticized the young bourgeois, while I chose to sign my book in the most exclusive club in Port-au-Prince: Le Cercle Bellevue. Members of my family were shocked. In 1975, Le Sexe Mythique was a scandal too.

You wrote your first novel in 1968. Your second novel was published in 1975. Your next literary work was not published until 2009. During that interval, did you give up on writing?
As a matter of fact, I started writing part of the manuscript for Autopsie in Vivo in 1973. I finished it in 1981. I wrote very irregularly. Le Sexe Mythique [The Mythyical Sex] that I published in 1975 had the subtitle Autopsie in Vivo [Live Autopsy]. As I explain in the introduction to my novel in 2009, Le Sexe Mythique should be included. This text was written by my fictional heroine Annie, who wanted to be a writer. As it was independent of the rest, I wanted to publish it before returning to Montreal. In fact, it is from August 1973, when I arrived in Canada as a “landed immigrant.” For some time, I did the back and forth thing. It wasn’t until 1979 that I stopped going back to Haiti. I had Canadian citizenship in 1980. So Le Sexe Mythique should be part Autopsie en Vivo. But eventually I let it stand on its own. And as I wrote: Le Mal de Vivre and Le Sexe Mythique can be considered as a painter sketches before the big picture.

The literary critic Joëlle Vitiello labels you as a feminist. Do you consider yourself one?
Certainly. Le Sexe Mythique is altogether a feminist work. Men did not like it. Same thing with the sequel Autopsie en Vivo. In the first one, I mocked men a bit and their worship of the male genitalia. In the second book, they weren’t depicted in a good light. My heroine is ruthless in describing their shortcomings. She falls in love at first, then she she becomes lucid, and does not mince her words.

Were there other Haitian women writers before you that you admired?
For a long time, books by Haitian authors were not available. They were not reprinted. I read the first edition of Gouverneur de la Rosée [Governor of the Dew]. As well as the collection of poems by [René] Dépestre Gerbes de Sang that I have in my library. In Haiti, I never came across [books by] women writers who preceded me. Fils de Misère by Marie-Thérèse Colimon was published simultaneously with Le Sexe Mythique in 1975. While I was signing my book at the bookstore, she came to La Pléiade to buy my book. I asked her to sit besides me and to sign hers. I say this because I was very sorry to see the rivalry between writers. I think it’s not petty. Among current novelists I read and loved are Jan J. Dominique, Yanick Lahens, Ketly Mars and Myriam Chancy, who is unfortunately not translated into French. Myriam Chancy is for me a great writer. I have not yet had the opportunity to read Edwige Danticat.

In the late 1970s, you moved to Canada for good. Was it because you felt artistically stifled in Haiti?
I always wanted to live abroad, in a large city with an interesting cultural life: concerts, theater, ballet, radio, museums and so on.

According to Joëlle Vitiello in an article for Ile en Ile, practically all the members of your family were artistic types, and people who at one time or another were the center of Haiti’s intellectual scene. Your uncle was the renowned poet Carl Brouard; your dad was Jean Magloire, a government official and a journalist; your paternal grandfather Auguste Magloire was a historian;and your maternal grandfather Raphaël Brouard was one of the backing sponsors of Les Griots, a major literary magazine of the 1930s. How did it feel growing up around those people? Knowing that you were part of this literary and intellectual elite, that you were their seed?
It was natural for me. It was not as if I had been transplanted from one environment to another. I lived amongst [people like] Jean Price Mars during my teenage years and until my departure for Paris. My mother was a friend of Clara Mars and I was a friend of their daughter Marie-Madeleine. There were books in my family. I loved to read. I loved the rosy romance novels at the library at [the school] St. Rose de Lima. Later on, [I read the major] literary works. I was introduced to music early. My mother taught piano and composing. We had all these records. During my adolescence, I loved Wagner, Mahler, Puccini, having discovered [them] in 78s [an ancestor of the CD]. I also liked French singers, Léo Ferré, Serge Gainsbourg, Guy Béart, Juliette Greco, Catherine Sauvage.

At some point, you have studied radio and television broadcasting in France.
In 1955, before leaving for Paris with my mother, I spent some time at Radio Commerce. I don’t remember the name of its director. He gave me a letter of introduction to someone in French radio and television. That’s how I came to enroll at RTF [Radio Diffusion Télé Française]. We were supposed to learn to write for radio. Our scripts for television were to be free of [aspects of] cinema. In principle. We first learned how to do [professional] photography. I would wander in the streets of Paris with a friend and would click and click really fast. I still have a lot of black and white photographs that I developed but never had time to put on paper. We had an internship at Honfleur in Normandy. The professor had a camera; the only student who had one was Claude Lelouch. I must tell you that all these students had turned to television, having been unable to enter IDHEC, the film school in Paris. They were film buffs. In my case, I stopped after a year. I was not planning on returning to Haiti. I knew I had no chance to work in radio and French television. I do not know if some of my colleagues went on to work in the television [industry]. Lelouch went on to become a famous filmmaker. Upon my return to Haiti, I worked in the radio [industry]. I had radio show for women that was aired for years. My program for women [aired] from 1965 to 1973 first on Radio Haïti, then at MBC—Magloire Broadcasting corporation [owned by] my father’s cousin—[then on] Radio Métropole—which still exists and another [station]—I’ve forgotten the name.

Above: Magloire at a launch party for the magazine Le Fil D’Ariane in Pétionville.

What do you wish someone had told you about being a novelist?
Nothing. I took literature writing courses at the University of Quebec in Montreal in 1985. I couldn’t write anymore. I was experiencing a nervous breakdown. I had to write texts that the teacher and other students read and evaluated. This stimulated me. That’s it. I wrote a few short stories.

At one point, you founded a literary magazine in Haiti called Le Fil D’Ariane.
A friend who had a small advertising agency Publigestion asked me to start a literary magazine with her. She would take care of the advertising and I would take care of the writing. Later down the line, she dropped the project. She probably estimated that a monthly magazine would not rake in much. But the idea had already taken root in me; I did not want to give up. When I was working in the radio and I had to find my own advertising. I hated it. I did not want to start having to solicit advertising from customers. A girlfriend of mine assured me that she would get me advertising. So I started in the business. It was a passion for me to prepare my magazine. I did just about everything. The young man who initially did the layout [dropped out of the project] after the first issue. I could not afford to pay a professional for the job. Most of the money that we got from advertising went to editorial and the printing of the magazine. I chose a good printing house—Deschamps. For the articles, I had some voluntary collaborators: Michaële Lafontant Médard, Junie Magloire, Odette Roy Fombrun, Ghislaine Charlier-Rey, Marcus of Radio Métropole, Liliane Devieux-Dehoux, Maximilien Laroche, Myrna Magloire Theodore, Claude Dauphin Andrée Naudé. Lucien Rivière made cartoons for eight issues. Claude Demesmin was the photographer. I wrote a lot.

I was fascinated to this magazine, but it was a constant struggle with the house Deschamps for text composition and printing of each issue. While all the money from the advertising were going to them, they had other projects that were more lucrative than my magazine. It was supposed to be a monthly, but two or three months could pass without [an issue being released]. I wanted to be able to pay employees one day. But I lost advertising. I realized that there was a time that would come when we wouldn’t be able to publish the magazine any longer. I decided to leave for Montreal where meanwhile my mother and my daughter had gone for the latter’s piano lessons. She had enrolled at the University of Ottawa where the piano teacher she wanted was teaching. She eventually earned her Master’s degree from the University of Montreal.

What inspired that title?
It is of course the thread in Greek mythology that guided Theseus through the labyrinth of Crete where he had gone to kill the Minotaur. My magazine held a thread out to readers, numerous sections guided them in various fields. Here is the summary of the first issue: Mes propos [Editor’s Letter], Un pays à découvrir [A Country to Be Discovered], Visages de Port-au-Prince Hier [Past Faces of Port-au-Prince], Visages de Port-au-Prince Aujourd’hui [Contemporary Faces of Port-au-Prince], Notre Amérique [Our America], Parlons française [Let’s Speak French], Livres et auteurs haïtiens [Books by Haitian Authors], Ironie du sort (Irony of Sorts—personal bits about myself), Education [Education], De la musique avant toute chose [Music Before Everything Else], Métier: artiste [Career: artist], Trois Petits Tours et puis s’en vont [Three Little Tours and They’re Gone], Grand Écran [Big Screen], Votre corps et vous [You and Your Body], Pour gourmets seulement [Gourmets Only], Port-au-Prince la nuit [Port-au-Prince at Night], Exploration dans les abysses [Exploring the Abyss], Les Potins d’Ariane [Ariane’s Scoops], A Belles Dents [With Pretty Teeth].

Was it the only one of its kind in Haiti at the time?
I think it is.

How was the literary scene in Haiti in the late 1960s and up to the late 1970s?
Other people other myself can tell you. I find no interest in it.

When you wrote Le Mal de Vivre and Autopsie en Vivo, and when you sit and write any other novel, do you usually want to pass a message across?
I’ve always thought that a Haitian writer couldn’t do art for the sake of art. There are too many horrendous things in the country that should be stigmatized. It seems to be that I am part of the tradition of the novelists of the past. Which has been lost to certain Haitians. It so happens that the release of my novels coincided with the earthquake in Haiti. It seems that because of this terrible occurrence that’s happened to them, it’s all over sudden forbidden to criticize Haitians. Some in Quebec think the same thing. My novel finished in 1981. It laid dormant in a drawer for 28 years. And its realities are more than ever true. There’s no point in blinding oneself to [the truth]. How can one heal if one refuses a live autopsy? That’s what I wanted to do around the time I wrote my novel. Things, far from improving, have gotten even worse.

You were one of the very few Haitian women writers who were writing novels in the 1960s and 1970s. Why do you think that was the case?
I don’t know. The number of writers, men and women, has increased surprisingly. Maybe all those dark years that the country has experienced partly explains this. Those gifted turned to art or to write. It was a refuge. And then what happens elsewhere is quickly known. Minds are open. Another thing I was surprised. People read. And they read the books written by Haitians. This was definitely not the case when I left the country in 1979. Despite this bias to the Creole language, the language of instruction, the literary language of Haiti, Haitian writers write well in French. It is rather paradoxical.

The author and literary critic [Dr.] Myriam J.A. Chancy summed up your book Le Mal de Vivre this way: “Magloire’s novel ultimately reveals that Claudine’s inability to survive is also a function of the fact that to be a woman in the Haitian context is to be denied a privilege; it is for that reason that Claudine clings so fiercely to those privileges that only class can provide.”
Quebec novelist and playwright Michel Tremblay, whose works have attracted many academics, said he has never understood scholarly theses. I think academics write for their peers. I do not see on what [Dr.] Myriam Chancy based her evaluation that Claudine clings to her social privileges. [Her analysis] states that [the character Claudine] has no compassion for those less fortunate than her. This is a very superficial analysis of my heroine. As I already said, I consider Myriam Chancy a great novelist. But she applied this scholarly grid—she cites theorists—that does not fit Claudine. This was was a character sketch in a very short book. I hope that my heroine Annie’s two novels Autopsie in Vivo and In Vivo are less ambiguous. It is true that the reader is involved in reading and brings her own personality into her interpretation of a novel and its characters. The reader has a partial role as creator. That’s the way it is.

Above: Magloire in a photo taken in 1986.

What was the publishing process like in Haiti at the time that you ventured into publishing your book?
Autopsie in Vivo is a novel I finished in 1981. As I explained in the introduction: Based in Montreal, I had lost my natural readership. I didn’t think a publisher in Québec would care to publish me. At the end of 2008, I was 77. I had two cancers. I wanted to leave behind a work to Haitian literature and to the Quebecois if it would be well-received. A friend had self-published his own book. I thought I could do it too. After all, in Haiti, I had been my own publisher: Éditions du Verseau. Obviously, here it would be much more expensive. I tried it under the names of Éditions du Verseau and Frantz Voltaire’s Éditions CIDCHA, a publishing house based in Montreal. The manuscript was bulky. I first published it under the title Autopsie in Vivo. It cost me a lot of money. A year later, in 2010, I fared better. I had a little more experience. The second volume, although it has roughly the same number of pages, was not too expensive. It was suggested that I give it another title as it could be read without [a reader] knowing the previous one. But for me, the two volumes were one. Its title is Autopsie in Vivo—La Suite.

What advice do you have for someone who wants to become a writer?
I will refer you to [a passage] that I wrote in Le Mal de Vivre “I thought that my talent had to expand, my personality had to mature. My experience was insufficient and I wanted to cultivate my future.” Towards the beginning, having the gift [of writing] is necessary. Some experience too; you must have something to say. And it is essential to read a lot in order to master the language of writing. Writing a diary is good practice.

Do you have any regrets?
I regret that Haitians refuse to be lucid. I regret that they do not understand that it is not those who flatter them who truly care about them. I regret this hatred that continues to separate them. Nothing is built with hatred. No progress without solidarity. One is condemned to not progress or to even sink.

Deportation has affected many immigrant groups, in particular Haitian families. When a deportation order is executed, the immediate consequence is the breaking up of a family. But the bigger question often is, what becomes of the deportees? What becomes of the abruptly deported? What are their lives like?

Documentary filmmakers Chantal Regnault and Rachèle Magloire teamed up to seek and deliver answers to those questions through their insightful documentary work Deported. Their collaboration blends two different backgrounds—Magloire was born in Haiti, moved to Canada at the age of four to return two decades later, and Regnault was born in France to French parents, and is a former resident of Haiti.

Deported offers many perspectives in understanding the lives of those who have been deported.

Tell us about yourselves.
RACHÈLE MAGLOIRE: I studied Communications at the University of Quebec in Montreal. In Montreal, I volunteered in community radio, particularly Radio City Centre, on the show “The Voice of Haiti.” I went back to Haiti in February of 1987, and worked as a journalist on Télé Haiti, then briefly at Télévision National D’Haiti before starting Productions Lantern, an audiovisual production company, with Carl Lafontant. I’ve been doing audiovisual productions ever since. And I have made several documentaries, including Kalfou Plezi, Pye Devan and Children of the Coup d’Etat. Since 2004, I have been working with my sister Laurence Magloire and the foundation MWEM in the distribution of films in Haiti through the traveling movie program Sinema Anba Zetwal [Cinema Under the Stars]. In 2006, I joined Chantal Regnault to make Deported.

CHANTAL REGNAULT: I have a degree in Modern Literature from the Sorbonne-Paris-France, and I continued in the same specialty at New York University, when I moved to New York in 1971. In the late 1970s, I left school to devote myself to photography, inspired by the New York street scene and the incredible diversity of human beings from around the globe. From the outset, I was interested in the documentary aspect of photography.

For the next 30 years, I will translate that interest to personal photographic essays, produced independently and through my work with the press, magazines, and institutions. The 1970s was the emergence of hip-hop Culture in New York City. Brooklyn, Bronx: Rap, Graffeurs, Breakdancers will end up being one of my first photo projects. It is also in the late 70s that I made my first trip to Haiti, and its remaining visual wealth will become one of my main sources of inspiration. After multiple trips to Haiti between 1979 and 1983, I will not return for a decade. Back in New York, I’ll rub shoulders with and photograph several Haitian families and Voodoists, who were arriving in the 1970s by any means at hand to New York, Brooklyn, the Bronx, New Jersey. I returned to Haiti in 1993—this time to make it my primary residence until the earthquake of January 12, 2010 chases me out.

Rachèle Magloire (left) and Chantal Regnault (right) pose for a photo.

How did you get interested in filmmaking?
RACHÈLE MAGLOIRE: I already had an interest in film by choosing to study Communication. I had a concentration in radio, but we studied the basics of all the fields: photography, film, television. The interest in film came from my experience in television in Haiti. When I was little, I also loved looking at the pictures of my father, especially on Sunday nights when we watched family slides on the big screen.

CHANTAL REGNAULT: Going from documentary photography to documentary film, isn’t that much of a stretch. The values remains the same. And I’ve always loved the language of images, including movies. I remember as a student in Paris, we spent more time in the art house theaters in the Latin Quarter than in the classroom. In 1993 I was a news photographer for a while with Gamma-Liaison Agency and collaborated with foreign print and broadcast media journalists. I also met Rachèle, who already had several reports and documentaries to her credit at that point. We related to one another, and in 2006 the idea to co-direct a documentary on the U.S. Deportees in Haiti started to take shape.

What was your first encounter with a deported person like?
RACHÈLE MAGLOIRE: Since the mid-nineties, I—like many other Haitians—were convinced that the phenomenon of crime was either introduced or reinforced by the arrival of prisoners in the country. Indeed, it is at this time that we began to talk about them. According to the information we had obtained in our research, it’s following the departure of Jean-Claude Duvalier that the U.S. and Canada began to send people here [in Haiti] who had committed crimes in their home countries. Then I started to meet some of them, mostly young people in the streets of Port-au- Prince, and they gave me the feeling of what it’s like to feel lost in this country.

Then after 1996, deportations became more systematic. In the 2000s, I accompanied an American journalist who was doing a paper on the deportations, and we witnessed the arrival of a group of persons aboard an aircraft of the U.S. Marshall. It was quite shocking to see these guys landing, handcuffed and escorted by heavily-armed police. I started to get interested in what crimes they had committed to be deported. Having had to reestablish myself in this country that I really didn’t know, I wondered how things were going for them since they were in the same predicament, but not by deliberate choice, as they had been sent there by circumstances. I think the big difference was that although I had not grown up in Haiti, I had a lot of interest in the country, its history, its struggles throughout my youth in Montreal.

CHANTAL REGNAULT: The first deportee I met in Haiti was Richard, the main character in the documentary. It was in 1993 at the Holiday Inn Hotel—which will later on become Le Plaza–on Champ de Mars in Port-au-Prince. The events unfolding in Haiti—which lead to the U.S. military intervention in September 1994—brought in the international media, many of whom were staying at Le Plaza. Richard was on the scene; he could be seen at Champs de Mars. He offered his services as a guide and interpreter for English and French journalists and photographers as he spoke English, French and Creole. This thus provided the cash he needed for his addiction to crack. He told his story of being deported from the U.S. and his situation was an isolated case at the time, as he had been sent back in 1988 on a commercial flight [to Haiti] and walked out of the airport freely without any administrative procedure.

In 1998, during a visit to the National Penitentiary, I became aware of the magnitude of this phenomenon. I was literally shocked to happen on a cell crammed with young men who had come straight out of Brooklyn, NY and neighborhoods that were familiar to me. They were deported from the U.S. and illegally imprisoned and that experience was to last until 2006. I must also mention Jean-Pierre—also known as G Money—who I met in 2004. He was the “fixer” for a colleague from the Miami Herald, Joe Mozingo. I was to see him again on multiple occasions in the following years. He does not appear in the film but we were at the very beginning of our work, and he introduced me to a circle of deportees who gravitated around him.

Watch out for the next part of this article, in which the documentarians discuss Deported further. In the meantime, please be sure to view the trailer of the doc below.

[Photos: Photo of filmmakers: @safimag; streets of Brooklyn photo: © Chantal Regnault

What becomes of those who have been deported when they are sent back to Haiti? Rachèle Magloire and Chantal Regnault explore this in their award-winning documentary Deported.

In the first part of the article series, the two filmmakers discussed their backgrounds, how they met, and their first encounters with deportees in Haiti. Here, they discuss their work further.

What was the process like in putting together the documentary?
RACHÈLE MAGLOIRE: First, we did a lot of research to find [deportees]. In fact, we learned quickly that the “deported” love hanging out together. And so, we were able to meet a number of them. We met many officials and key persons involved in the deportation process and deportees’ integration into Haitian society through organizations defending human rights, especially the ECHR, which—at that time—led a study on the issue, in order to make recommendations to the authorities. We also took part in the rehabilitation program of the deportees led by IOM—International Organization for Immigration. Then we started to make contact with their [the deportees’] family members who lived mainly in North America. This is how we were able to follow some of the people we met, so that each of them could recount this terrible experience of deportation.

In 2008, as part of a project with the ECHR for the stigmatization of deportees in Haiti, we made a rough cut of twenty minutes. In January 2010, we finished filming. Then there was the long process of editing. Meanwhile, we showed a first draft to Raoul Peck and his production company Velvet Film. He was interested in our film, and helped us to finish it. We finished editing and post-production in July 2012.

CHANTAL REGNAULT: As Rachèle explained, the first phase of research was conducted from meetings with prisoners, one leading us to the other, allowing us to remember those who become the protagonists of the film, and also a phase of deepening our knowledge of the issue of deportation through reading materials and a series of interviews with government officials and police in Haiti as well as specialists [involved in the] migrant rights in the United States and Canada. This work has not been used since we eventually decided to make the message of the film exclusively about prisoners and their families in North America.

How are deportees viewed in Haiti?
RACHÈLE MAGLOIRE: Deportees are generally frowned upon. And as many times, the highest authorities have associated them with waves of crime in the country, it has reinforced the sense that the deported citizens are actively involved in Haiti’s criminal life. However, we must also say that if someone who is involved in a kidnapping speaks English, he is identified as a deportee, although this is not always the case. There are also people in the Diaspora who are involved in criminal networks, and aren’t deported.

CHANTAL REGNAULT: The Haitian public is generally afraid of deported criminals “made in USA” and also despise them for ruining the opportunity they had to live and work in North America. The fear of the deportees was at its height in December 2006 when the then-Prime Minister clearly linked the rise of crime in Haiti—especially kidnappings—to the presence of the deportees on national territory. We had so much research for the film.

Were you met with a lot of hesitation, when you were looking for interviewees?
RACHÈLE MAGLOIRE: On the side of the deportees themselves, not so much, except for those who had been able to integrate into society, and had managed to make people forget that they had been deported. These guys did want to talk on camera. But in most cases, the individuals who appeared in the documentary film generously shared their experiences—and it was usually quite painful. Also, it was more difficult to get women to talk, but there are nonetheless women deportees—even if they are less in number than the men.

CHANTAL REGNAULT: In the case of deportees with a criminal past, it wasn’t everyone who agreed to participate in the film. We had to rely on our personal contacts and the trust we earned with some. As pointed out by Rachèle, those who were able to integrate [in Haitian society] did not want to re-assume the identity of a deportee given the aura of stigma that surrounds them; it was the same with those with criminal records in Haiti and that for obvious reasons.

Do you think the view of deportees will change?
RACHÈLE MAGLOIRE: Definitely, I think that our film can help change the perception of the deportees in Haiti, and elsewhere, because you know that deportations are done in all countries from the United States and Canada. In the case of the United States, the most massive deportations are to the countries of Central America and the Caribbean.

CHANTAL REGNAULT: I agree with Rachèle about the impact that our film can have on the perception that the public has of Haitian deportees. Screenings in Port-au-Prince at Fokal and in Jacmel at Place d’Armes in December 2012 and again in Fokal in March 2013, have already proved that. It was a great moment when the lights were turned back on and members of the audience found themselves face to face with the film’s protagonists in the flesh! A passionate dialogue that could not stop got started.

[Photos: Furnished by Chantal Regnault and Rachèle Magloire.]

This is the second part in the series of article on the documentary Deported. Be sure to look out for Part 3. And do visit the PAGE FOR THE DEPORTED DOCUMENTARY and the filmmakers’ website

The conversation with filmmakers Rachèle Magloire and Chantal Regnault continues in the last installment of our three-part article on the highly-acclaimed documentary Deported.

What did you note about the deportees?
RACHÈLE MAGLOIRE: Each deportee had a history, and it was usually a history of difficult times. They did not come from the same paths, even if we found commonalities between them. But they all had an experience that marked their passage in a North American prison. This passage and the “return” in a rather hostile society is a life lesson for them. Now it is up to each of them—according to his “background”, his education and family support—to turn this lesson in a positive way. But the film also has scenes shot in North America, which allowed us to provoke further reflection on the integration of immigrants in North America and address the issue of the emergence of crime in that region.
CHANTAL REGNAULT: Same answer as Rachèle.

How long did it take for you to gather material for the documentary and to wrap it up?
RACHÈLE MAGLOIRE: We started the research in 2006 and completed the installation in 2012, so six years!
CHANTAL REGNAULT: I want to clarify that we did not produce it in six consecutive years. Various internal and external factors sometimes slowed filming considerably, and the earthquake of January 12, 2010 occurred when we started mounting the long version of the documentary film. We found the money for the post-production work at the end of 2011.

Do you prefer fiction filmmaking documentary filmmaking over?
RACHÈLE MAGLOIRE: I’ve never made fiction films, except for a few experiments with short films and some commercials. I love the documentary format because it allows you to follow certain ideas, but fiction is also attractive to me. But this form of cinema doesn’t have the same elements. And in the absence of a film industry, it is much more difficult to create the conditions to complete a very successful fiction feature. But time will tell the rest.
CHANTAL REGNAULT: This is my first documentary film. I’ve never done fiction.

What advice do you have for those Who wish to do documentaries?
RACHÈLE MAGLOIRE: To always stay open and listen to a lot of research to understand the subject you’re talking about so you can come out with something intelligent.
CHANTAL REGNAULT: To have a good time on writing the project and to leave room to deviate, take the time to establish trust with the future protagonists of the film, and remain constantly open to elements that luck can bring.

Did you Have a particular goal in making this documentary?
RACHÈLE MAGLOIRE: I didn’t have a particular purpose, except to deepen my knowledge on the subject, and as with other documentaries, open the horizons of the audience to a reality they don’t know too well. Generally, we are interested in marginalized societies and people who don’t really have a place to express themselves. In the case of prisoners, that was exactly the case, but what attracted me the most was that this allowed me to not only explore a Haitian reality on our island, but also to get an understanding of what was happening in the host society that had led to the deportation.
CHANTAL REGNAULT: As I said before, I was long aware of the plight of the deported in Haiti, realized that there was this injustice and the catastrophic human consequences engendered by the policy of systematic abuse and deportation, especially in the the United States. [The purpose] of making the documentary was to firstly shed light on the real situation of these people being cut off from their past life and to lead the viewer to not only question the rights of immigrants who were criminals, but also the very notion of identity. We live in a time when global migration has produced a wide hybrid population that straddles at least two countries, two cultures, two languages.

What do you think of the current Haitian filmmaking industry?
RACHÈLE MAGLOIRE: One cannot speak of a cinema industry in Haiti today. Moreover, there is no movie theater, so no real market opportunities exist for the distribution of films. There are no funds specifically dedicated to cinema for film production, so those who make movies do so on a small scale and use a lot of imagination to finance their production and distribution. Fortunately, there are some institutions like FOKAL supporting such projects. But, you have to convince these institutions.
CHANTAL REGNAULT: What’s also missing is the training of future technicians and screenwriters.

What plans do you have for your filmmaking career?
RACHÈLE MAGLOIRE: I will continue my work. I am working on several projects, but for now they are in their infancy so I prefer not to talk about them. I’ve also worked on other film projects, including Raoul Peck’s Deadly Assistance. I was the Director of Photography, and implementation of the second team in Haiti.
CHANTAL REGNAULT: I don’t have the time for another documentary project. I plan on publishing a book of photos based on the experiences that I had in Haiti during the 25 years I devoted to it.

Be sure to visit the website of Fanal Productions HERE and take a look at the filmmakers’ FACEBOOK PAGE.