Although versed in both African and Jamaican traditional narratives, I had never heard of four of the five Indo-Trinidadian spirits of whom Mahabir writes. I greatly appreciated that with each spirit treated, he not only named them, but also indicated for the general reader how to pronounce those names: The Raakhas – pronounced Rha-khas, Churile – pronounced Choo-ryle, Saapin - Sah-pin, Dee Baba – Dee Bha-bah and the Jinn, Sheik Sadiq – Jin Shake Sah-dik.

Mahabir follows with great effect the plan he concisely lays out in his short introduction. Each of the five chapters provides a description of the spirit, followed by actual testimonies by elders, then mention of similar spirits in the Caribbean, even more interestingly mention of similar spirits in distant cultures, and then, in recognition of modern expectations of forms beyond the written word, he refers to related films, and finally provides occasional explanatory end notes. These, coupled with the bibliography, direct the more than casual reader towards deeper paths of learning.

What makes this volume of especial relevance is that he recognizes the value of orality. In a correspondence to me, he writes: “Time is against us in recording the actual voices of our elders who are passing away with their rich knowledge.” He recognizes that much of what has made the Caribbean a distinct cultural centre is derived from those who migrated without the benefit of the written word, but who nonetheless retained aspects of their cultural heritage through repetition of oral histories and narratives. In this book, Mahabir now shares with us a fragment of that knowledge in depicting five figures from traditional life. These Mahabir accentuates with testimonies after each story. The 13 testimonies included in the book were collected from nine different locales and the age of those interviewed ranges from 70 to 98 years old. These Indian Caribbean folklore spirits, of which the elders speak, form part of the heritage brought by Indians who migrated to Trinidad and Tobago between 1838 and 1917. Much of what the elders heard, they learned as children. Narrators display repeated regret that they didn’t pay more attention to what their grandmothers or aunts related to them. The influence of the ajii, the paternal grandmother, recurs throughout the old-timers’ testimonies.  Says 70 year-old Mrs. Reshma of Biche: “As children, we did not have enough sense to know what was a spirit.”  On the other hand, 88 year-old Mr. Suresh of St. Augustine remembers vividly: “Old time people used to say not to go out after six.

There are some bhoot [evil spirits] that can take many forms, just as water can change into different shapes of ice.” I am not quite sure why Mahabir translates bhoot as an evil spirit here since, in India, the Hindi word is translated to mean a common ghost, not necessarily evil, unless he inferred that from what Mr. Suresh said.The wisdom of elders, whether practiced by old-timers themselves or used to educate and inculcate discipline in their youngsters, obviously intrigues the author. He treats such beliefs with respect for he knows the repositories of these oral histories and customs will not be with us much longer. Mahabir himself was born one of seven children in the countryside of Plum Mitan, near the town of Sangre Grande in 1955 at a time when there was no electricity there. His parents, who had the benefit of primary education only, owned a cocoa plantation, grocery and liquor shop in the village but obviously implanted in him a respect for the knowledge of ancestors since Mahabir chose to pursue a doctorate in Anthropology at the University of Florida in Gainesville. Research for his doctoral dissertation on Traditional Health Beliefs and Practices of Postnatal Women in Trinidad may have given him insights into how some of the narratives have been used to perpetuate the subservience of women. See the notes following the chapter on the Churile where this material may be of interest in gender studies. Another testimony of anthropological interest is that of 74 year-old Mr. Azard’s explicit directions for how to sacrifice a cock to Dee Baba.Mahabir writes that the way in which the old folks speak is just as interesting as the contents of what the old folks say, so in all but one of the testimonies he retains the nuances of their speech. Indeed, the testimonies sound so authentic that one has the feeling of being seated with an elder while he or she recalls tales from their youth, adding immediacy to the experience of reading the material.The author’s attempt to demonstrate similarities in beliefs across cultures throughout the world, whether from Africa, Asia or Europe, contributes to making this Caribbean-produced book something of interest to readers internationally. But it is artist Aneesa Khan’s lush, almost lyrical imagery which elevates this appealing volume into a Caribbean creation of both literary and visual excellence.

Among the most shocking cases:

On September 2, four days after Katrina made landfall, Henry Glover was shot by one officer, then apparently taken hostage by other officers who either killed him directly or burned him alive. His charred remains were found weeks later. Also on September 2, Danny Brumfield Sr., a 45 year old man stranded with his family at the New Orleans Convention Center, was deliberately hit by a patrol car, then shot in the back by police in front of scores of witnesses as he tried to wave down the officers to ask for help. On September 4, 2005, on New Orleans' Danziger Bridge, a group of police officers drove up to several unarmed civilians who were fleeing their flooded homes and opened fire. Two people were killed, including a mentally challenged man named Ronald Madison, and four were seriously injured. Madison was shot in the back by officer Robert Faulcon, and officer Kenneth Bowen then rushed up and kicked and stomped on him, apparently until he was dead. 

Faulcon and Bowen were among those charged this week in a 27-count indictment that lays out the disturbing chain of events on the bridge.

The post-Katrina killings have also led investigators into further inquiries. The feds have already announced that they are looking into at least eight cases, including incidents that occurred in the summer before Katrina and in the years after. And as high-ranking officers confess to manufacturing evidence, their confessions bring doubt to scores of other cases they have worked on.

Endemic Violence

A coalition of criminal justice activists called Community United for Change (CUC) has asked for federal investigations of dozens of other police murders committed over the past three decades, which advocates say have never been properly examined. Activists named a wide range of cases, from the death of 25-year-old Jenard Thomas, who was shot by police in front of his father on March 24, 2005; to Sherry Singleton, shot by police in 1980 while she was naked in a bathtub, in front of her four year old child.

Several parents and other family members of victims of police violence have joined in protests and community forums sponsored by CUC. The parents of Adolph Grimes III, who was shot 14 times by cops on New Year's day in 2009, are among those who have spoken out. "We want those officers incarcerated, so they can live with it like we live with it," said Grimes' father.

"This represents a real opportunity to raise some fundamental questions about the nature of police and what they do," said Malcolm Suber, project director with the New Orleans chapter of the American Friends Service Committee and one of the organizers who formed Community United for Change.

Civil rights attorney Tracie Washington has been among those leading the call for federal intervention in the department. "It is time for the U.S. government, through the Justice Department's Office of Civil Rights, to step in and step up," she said. "We need a solution that addresses the systemic nature of the problem."

Justice Department officials have indicated that they agree on the need for federal assistance. "Criminal prosecutions alone, I have learned, are not enough to change the culture of a police department," said Assistant Attorney General Thomas Perez.

Mayor Mitch Landrieu has also said he agrees on the need for federal supervision. In a letter to Attorney General Holder, Landrieu wrote, "It is clear that nothing short of a complete transformation is necessary and essential to ensure safety for the citizens of New Orleans."

However, many activists fear that Mayor Landrieu is speaking out in support of reform so he can maintain a level of control over the changes dictated by the feds. They are critical of Landrieu's choices so far, such as his selection of NOPD veteran Ronal Serpas for the job of police chief, and have expressed concern that he will not break with the department's troubled history. "This is lukewarm reform," says Rosana Cruz, the associate director of V.O.T.E., an organization that seeks to build power and civic engagement for formerly incarcerated people. "This is reaching the lowest possible bar that we could possibly set."

Beyond Bad Apples

While some form of federal supervision of the department seems likely, Malcolm Suber doesn't think federal oversight is enough.

"I don't think that we can call on a government that murders people all over the world every day to come and supervise a local police department," He says. For Suber, federal control will not offer the wider, more systemic changes needed in other aspects of the system. While Suber wants more federal investigations of police murders, he wants these investigations to go hand in hand with community oversight and control of the department.

While activists may disagree on the role they see for the federal government, one thing Washington, Suber and Cruz agree on is that the problem runs deeper than police department corruption. They say any solution needs to reach beyond the department to other facets of the system like the city's elected coroner, the District Attorney's office, the U.S. Attorney and the city's Independent Police Monitor, who many see as limited by not having the ability to perform its own investigations.

"We have a coroner who always finds police were justified," said Suber, referring to Frank Minyard, an 80-year-old jazz trumpeter who is trained as a gynecologist. Minyard has been city coroner since 1974, and has been the frequent subject of complaints from activists, who contend that he has mislabeled police killings. "We've had independent coroners, forensic doctors come after him," said Suber, "And we found that basically all of his finding were bogus. Just made up."

Henry Glover, last seen in the custody of police then found burned to death in a car, was not flagged by the coroner's office as a potential homicide. In another case now under federal investigation, witnesses say police beat Raymond Robair to death. The coroner ruled that he "fell down or was pushed." This "fall" broke four ribs and caused massive internal injury, including a ruptured spleen.

"If you ask any attorneys who have handled cases of police killings," continued Suber, "When they have hired independent doctors to go after our coroner, nine times out of ten he's wrong."

Activists also complain that the city's District Attorney Leon Cannizzaro has been slow to pursue cases of police violence. "The district attorney just does not file charges," Suber said. "When it's involving police, he finds no crimes committed." Republican US Attorney Jim Letten has also failed, Suber added. "A number of community groups have gone and met with him, asked him to investigate and he didn't do anything."

Organizers have put forward a range of proposals for the reforms they would like to see, including institutional support for community-led programs like CopWatch, the incorporation of a system for language interpretation, and a more powerful Independent Police Monitor. But they all agree that not just the department, but the entire system needs fundamental change, and that change needs to come from outside of city government. "How you gonna get the wolf to watch over the chicken coop?" asks Adolph Grimes, Jr. "It's the system itself that is corrupted."

The Brooklyn Academy of Music made the right bet in choosing popular Muslim super star Youssou N’Dour to open Muslim Voices: Arts & Ideas, a 10-day festival of film, dance, theater and music opening on 5 June 2009. The three festival sponsors, The Brooklyn Academy of Music, Asia Society and The Center for Dialogues at New York University pulled the festival together with the aim of enhancing understanding of Muslim culture.

Opening the festival, the President of the Brooklyn Academy of Music, Karen Brooks Hopkins introduced several major politicians including Brooklyn Borough President, Marty Markowitz and New York City Mayor Mike Bloomberg. Mayor Bloomberg praised Brooklyn’s Muslim community for maintaining its ethnic heritage, while expressing great love for New York City.  Following President Obama’s much anticipated speech aimed at changing Muslim’s perception of America, Bloomberg presented Islam as part of both America’s and New York City’s stories. Bloomberg then introduced Youssou N’Dour as the best singer alive. Dressed in a fancy floor-length African robe, the Senegalese superstar and his band “The Super Etoile” delivered an outstanding performance with his mix of old and new sounds. Electric guitars and keyboards “talked” to traditional African musical instruments to delight a joyful crowd. Youssou’s strong and elastic voice combined with a large band of accomplished musicians produced highly danceable tunes of the music brand called Mballax, an electrifying blend of Senegalese, rock and Caribbean beats. The term Mballax is the word for rhythms in N’Dour’s native language called Wolof. Between songs, Youssou called for a New Africa based upon human dignity and peace. The Senegalese superstar reminds us that the term “Assalam Alaikum” means “peace for all” –not just Muslims but for all people.

Another major highlight of the festival has been the New York premiere of “I bring what I love”, a documentary about Youssou N’dour’s life and the production of “Egypt”, his Grammy Award winning album realized jointly with Egyptian composer and producer Fathy Salama. In this album, Youssou N’Dour focused on his faith in Islam. His praise songs exalted Senegal’s long Islamic history and Sufi saints. In particular, Youssou exalted Muslim icon Cheick Amadou Bamba for preferring the road of peace and exile to the path of violence imposed upon him by the colonizers of Senegal. In an interview with NYIHA MEDIA, filmmaker Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi stated that mainstream media promotes images of Islam as violent and fundamentalist. In this movie, Muslims are portrays in a different way- fighting for freedom and democratic values. The movie, I Bring What I love, offers an alternative vision, the West African Sufi brand of Islam, which is a non dogmatic and sophisticated way of living the Muslim faith.

“We make the mistake of thinking this is something new,” says Harden. She adds that the historic treatment of these communities, as well as the lack of recovery that New Orleanians have seen since Katrina, makes her doubt the federal government will do what is necessary for Gulf recovery. “Since Obama got into office,” she says, “I have yet to see any action that reverses what Bush did after Katrina.”

Harden says Louisiana and the US must fundamentally transform our government’s relationships with corporations. “We’ve got to change the way we allow businesses to be in charge of our health and safety in this country,” she adds. As an example, Harden points to more stringent regulations in other countries, such as Norway, which requires companies to drill relief wells at the same time as any deepwater well.

Pointe-au-Chien

Pointe-au-Chien Indian Tribe is a small band of French speaking Native Americans along Bayou Pointe-au-Chien, south of Houma, on Louisiana’s Gulf Coast. Their ancestors settled here three hundred years ago, and current residents describe the ongoing oil geyser as just the latest step in a long history of displacement and disenfranchisement. “The oil companies never respected our elders,” explains community leader Theresa Dardar. “And they never did respect our land.”

In the early part of this century, the oil companies took advantage of the fact that people living on the coast were isolated by language and distance, and laid claim to their land. Over the past several decades, these companies have devastated these idyllic communities, creating about 10,000 miles of canals through forests, marshes, and homes. “They come in, they cut a little, and it keeps getting wider and wider,” says Donald Dardar, Theresa’s husband and part of the tribe’s leadership. “They didn’t care where they cut.”

The canals have brought salt water, killing trees and plants and speeding erosion. According to Gulf Restoration Network, Louisiana loses about a football field of land every 45 minutes, and almost half of that land loss is as a result of these canals. Meanwhile, Pointe-au-Chien and other tribes have found they have little legal recourse. At least partly as a result of lobbying by oil companies, the state and federal government have refused to officially recognize them as a tribe, which would offer some protection of their land rights.

So late last month, when oil started washing up on the shores of nearby Lake Chien and fishing season was cancelled before it had even begun, members of Pointe-au-Chien took the news as another nail in the coffin of the lifestyle they had been living for generations. On a recent Sunday, a few residents gathered at the Live Oak Baptist Church, on the main road that runs through their community. They described feeling abandoned and abused by the government and corporations. They spoke of losing their language and traditions in addition to their homes.

Sitting on a church pew, Theresa said they had met with indigenous natives from Alaska who discussed their experience in the aftermath of the 1989 Exxon Valdez spill. “We don’t know how long we’ll be without fishing,” said Theresa. “It was 17 years before they could get shrimp.” And, she noted bitterly, this disaster is already much larger than the Valdez, with no end in sight.

BP has promised payouts to those who lose work from the oil, but few trust the company to make good on their promise, and even if they did, they doubt any settlement could make up for what will be lost. “It doesn’t matter how much money they give you,” says Theresa. “If we don’t have our shrimp, fish, crabs and oysters.”

“It’s not just a way of life, its our food,” she added. “It’s the loss of our livelihood and culture.”

The anxiety that Theresa expresses is also increasingly common in New Orleans, a city whose culture is inextricably linked to the Gulf. “How do you deal with this hemorrhaging in the bottom of the Gulf that seems endless?” asks Monique Harden of AEHR. “That is just scary as hell. I’ve been having nightmares about it.”

As the oil continues to flow, people feel both helpless and apocalyptic; depressed and angered. Residents who have just rebuilt from the 2005 hurricanes watch the oil wash up on shore with a building dread. “I never thought I’d be in a situation where I wanted another Katrina,” says Harden. “But I’d rather Katrina than this.”