It is not surprising that the Caribbean woman pushes her daughter toward higher education, for she sees education as the greatest tool for social mobility. Education becomes more than just a means of expanding one's realm; it is seen as an armor of protection against hostile forces, an opportunity to be successful so that no one can "tek step wid yuh." Traditionally, women have been the custodians of culture. The Caribbean woman must continuously face this question: "How can I keep the culture intact, maintain our song and dance in these changing times, this electronic age of computer, when our children are struggling against the reins of our value system and often we are so perplexed, not knowing what to do? This, then, is the most valuable lesson the Caribbean mother passes on to her daughter: how to be firm in the midst of society's pressures and remain her individual self and nurture her talents and resources to love her mate and nurture her children, even while she pursues her own dreams. The songs and dance continue.
"There was no trial. No formal accusations. They just dumped all of the prisoners like animals into a cage," [Jan Mapou] recalls. "they stripped us and then crammed 14 of us into a small cell. We had no idea if we would ever see our families again. We had no idea if we would even be alive from one second to the next." Tell no one "When I first started working with Jan Mapou and the Sosyete Koukouy, I knew very little about the meanings of the daces I was performing," says Nancy St. Leger, who is now the dance troupe's choreographer. "Mapou opened me up to the significance of each dance. He didn't want the dance troupe to perform anything we didn't understand." "What Mapou is promoting through his work is not just Haitian culture but what Haitian culture represents," says [Yves Colon]. "He keeps alive those ideas of beauty, harmony and black pride which are all a part of what Mapou believes is Haitian culture.
