Roumain goes to prison and comes out a symbol

Jacques Roumain was taken into custody in December 1928 for his nationalist work and for helping to arrange meetings the government called seditious. He was twenty-one. What the arrest produced was the opposite of quiet. Among the students and young writers of Port-au-Prince, men and women who had grown up knowing nothing but a country run by foreigners and who were angry about it in a way their parents had learned not to be, Roumain became the proof of a thesis. Writing had consequences. The state cared what appeared in a small magazine, cared enough to send men to fetch the author, and that told a whole generation their words carried weight. From here Roumain's life runs through prison cells, exile, ethnology, the founding of the Haitian Communist Party in 1934 and finally the novel about a village and its water that is still the best known book to come out of the country. The arrest is where the public figure begins.

American farmers had ploughed marginal land and bought tractors to feed the world during the war. The number of motor vehicles on farms multiplied fivefold in the war years to about eighty five thousand, and by the end of the 1920s nearly a million farmers were driving them. Nine million work animals were slaughtered as machines replaced them, releasing thirty million acres of pasture for wheat, cotton and dairying. When world production returned to its normal channels after the armistice of November 1918, the surplus had nowhere to go. Cotton fell from a wartime high of thirty five cents a pound to sixteen cents in 1920. Corn fell from a dollar and a half a bushel to fifty two cents, wool from nearly sixty cents a pound to under twenty. Prices improved a little after 1921 and did not recover fully until war returned in 1939. Foreclosures rose and owners became tenants.

Every Dahomean who died became a god of his family, and each year the household performed the customs for its ancestors. Herskovits recorded in 1931 that the sacrifices were not confined to the dead whose names people could still recite. At a separate altar, food was given to the spirits of those who had been sent into slavery and to their descendants, together with others whose names had been lost. As the offering was made, the names of New World countries were spoken in order to call the family dead. The practice was still running in the villages of Dahomey more than sixty years after the Atlantic trade ended and well over a century after the last large shipments to Saint Domingue. Herskovits singled it out as the most significant thing the field trip produced for anyone studying the relation between Africans and people of African descent in the Americas.

The Ottoman empire left its successor states a debt owed mostly to French financiers. The new Turkish Republic negotiated its own share down by half. Syria and Lebanon, held under French mandate, went on paying theirs in full, and 164 million francs left the common revenue fund between 1929 and 1934. The same fund carried the Armee du Levant, estimated at 40,000 men in 1926, together with irregular units, the gendarmerie and a large body of imported experts and administrators. Taxes raised locally were held above what the civilian side of government was allowed to spend, and the difference paid for soldiers and creditors. That transfer was 16 percent of civilian revenue in 1928. By the mid 1930s it had reached 30 to 40 percent, and in 1937 it approached 70 percent. Customs rates in the mandate stood near 30 percent of import value while Egypt, Palestine and Iraq charged 15 to 20.