Haitian-Born Author Dady Chery Discusses ‘We have Dared to Be Free’ With Anita Stewart – Part I
Dady Chery

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The following interview was originally broadcast on Wise Women Media on August 5, 2015 and later rebroadcast as a three-part series on Challenging the Rhetoric, on August 26-28. For the audio for the first part of the series, scroll to … Continue reading

Le festin des dieux: Lien du Vodou à l’agriculture d’Haïti et aux ancêtres
Dady Chery

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Par Dady Chery, Haiti Chery | News Junkie Post. La religion et la culture haïtienne sont intimement liées à l’agriculture locale, à tel point que les cérémonies de Vaudou sont habituellement appelées manje lwa: festin des dieux. Nos lwa (dieux, esprits, divinités) doivent être nourris.

Francois Duvalier Interview in English, 1968

Dr Francois Duvalier President of Haiti 1st December 1957 Haiti / Mono Print

By Alan Whicker and Frank Pocklington, BBC, ITV, Yorkshire Television | Editorial comment by Dady Chery, Haiti Chery. Selected scenes of 1968 Haiti, plus a remarkably extensive and candid interview, in English, between a quite fearless British reporting team and Francois Duvalier.

Haitian Hot Cocoa
Dady Chery

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By Dady Chery, Haiti Chery. In Haiti, a freshly baked roll with a cup of hot cocoa is a typical dinner. We have the Aztecs and Mayans to thank for the elaborate process for manufacturing chocolate from the seeds of Theobroma cacao: “food of the gods.”

Wilson Bigaud: Everyday Haitian Life ‘Bathed in a Golden Light’
Dady Chery

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By Wilson Bigaud | Introduction by Dady Chery, Haiti Chery. The distinguishing feature of Bigaud’s art is that his tableaux lovingly chronicled everyday aspects of Haitian life in his days. Although Bigaud was born in Port-au-Prince, he spent most of his life about 40 miles southwest of the capital in the village of Vialet, near the town of Petit-Goâve. He liked to walk in the countryside, hike little trails, talk to villagers, and return home to paint his day.

Poem From My Mother | Poème de ma mère

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“Le baiser d’une mère” | Introduction by Dady Chery, Haiti Chery. Before I could speak or even breathe, my mother, with a broad smile, read this poem to me. I copy it here from a version she wrote from memory. Based on the style, some of the phrases, and her fondness for Oswald Durand, I think it is his. (French, with introduction in French | English)