Think of the last great story you heard. Now think about the last great episode of a show you binge-watched with your best friend or significant other. You may remember the series of events that took you through the end. The plot twists, the OMG moments, and either the lackluster ending or the proverbial cliffhanger that left you wanting more. But, few remember that very thing that made those stories resonate with you; how it made you feel. Now I want to challenge you to take those stories and make them real life, with your family members being the characters. That was what it was like growing up listening to cassette tapes from family in Haiti. Especially, when your parents were making response recordings to send back.
I remember the day we had a telephone installed in our home in the Bahamas. Circa 1994. Cable TV was the business, but if you grew up poor, it was considered a luxury in many Haitian households. Before we got a phone, my parents had to either use a pay phone or go to a business that charged you to use theirs on top of the purchase for minutes. Even then, timing was a factor. Conditions were the same for my parent’s family members in Haiti. There was no guarantee that my parents would reach their intended family members. This was a reality for many Haitians living abroad. Thankfully, there was a method of transmission that went around this problem. Yet it was the same as taking a tanker boat instead of flight. It was effective, but it took forever.
This was how the process worked. A 4 or 5 or 10-pack of either Maxwell and TDK cassette tapes were purchased and used to record a long-form message to be sent to Haiti, via a person flying or sailing to the island. More specifically in the region that the messenger’s family lived in. My father would send me to the store and stressed that I picked up 90-minute capacity cassettes and nothing less. 45 minutes on each side. Back then, you couldn’t find a Haitian household that did not have a stereo radio that did not have recording capabilities. In my case, my parents had the vintage Sharp GF-787 Dual Cassette Stereo Radio Recorder. A radio that was a no-no to touch without their permission. Didn’t stop me or my brother though. That’s a different series of stories.
It was through these tapes that I learned about people I rarely knew; rarely saw . Knowing their voices when they blared through the speakers as they rambled on. It was how I knew my grandmother, my aunts and uncles, and cousins galore. From the initial play button press, one was taken on a rollercoaster of updates and stories. An initial salutation, to asking one-sided questions that could not be answered until they got a response. There was pleasant banter that somehow went into sorrow and anger regarding their daily lives or a significant life event. It was through this method that many Haitians found out that a relative passed away, or that someone was sick. A nephew finished school, or so and so got married to someone that no one cared for. A therapy session for the person candidly speaking, or a reprimand to those listening.
These long-form dissertations were podcasts before their time. Entertaining, heart-wrenching, gossip tea, or a profession of love and regret. For a lot of kids who sat next to their parents as they listened or recorded their replies, it was a crash course in knowing that they were human. Vulnerable, and capable of expressing their feelings, or could not. Y’all know that our old zoes were famous for faking the funk, like nothing got to them. They never did anything wrong, and their background was as immaculate as the scarves tied around their heads for Tuesday night tarrying service.
These tapes were the first accounts of what was going on in the country at the ground level. From philosophical antidotes to weeping outcries. They were time capsules if one was lucky to find one lying around. A forgotten sound that is all too familiar today in all kinds of forms that we now consume. It was truly the sound of survival.
