Women leave the Foyer in one group because the dark is safer that way

The Foyer was an evening school for working women in Port-au-Prince, run by the Ligue Feminine d'Action Sociale. Its teachers, Madeleine and Jeanne among them and probably Marguerite as well, intended to lock the doors before seven in the evening. Enrolment made that impossible. The women who came wanted instruction in anything on offer, and the teachers kept the rooms open past the hour. What followed each night was several hundred students leaving at once and walking home through a capital with poor lighting and real danger for a woman on her own. They moved as one body toward the districts they lived in and peeled off in twos and threes near their own doors. Sanders Johnson counts the walk as part of the school. The lesson in the classroom was literacy and a trade. The lesson on the road was that safety for a woman in Port-au-Prince after dark was something these women manufactured for each other, nightly, with no institution and no police force behind them.

Colonial governments began organising local elections, and the elections built the movements that ended the colonies. In Cote d'Ivoire in 1944 cocoa and coffee growers set up the Syndicat Agricole Africain, whose first aim was the abolition of forced labour. The union put its weight behind its leader Felix Houphouet-Boigny, who won a seat in the Assembly in Paris and got the corvee abolished. In Paris he joined with other West African deputies to build the Rassemblement Democratique Africain, the main bloc pressing for reform across French Africa. In Senegal a wider franchise let Leopold Senghor found a party rooted in the countryside, breaking the towns' hold on politics. Between the mid 1940s and the mid 1950s voters in French West Africa went to the polls repeatedly, for the National Assembly in Paris, the Assembly of the French Union, the Grand Councils at Brazzaville and Dakar, territorial assemblies, referenda and constitutions. Belgium did the reverse in the Congo and Ruanda-Urundi, sealing them off from every one of these developments, and their transitions were the worst on the continent.

C. L. R. James published the first edition of The Black Jacobins in 1938, writing in London for the Trotskyist press and organising for African independence. The book takes the revolt that began in Saint-Domingue in 1791 and treats it as a revolution of the first rank, with Toussaint Louverture as a political thinker and the enslaved of the northern plain as the people who decided the outcome. Before it, the standard European account handled Haiti as a colonial disaster with a body count attached. After it, the years from 1791 to 1804 could be set beside 1789 and 1917 and discussed in the same terms. The timing was deliberate. James was writing for readers who would soon be demanding an end to empire in Africa and the Caribbean, and he handed them a case in which enslaved people had beaten France, Spain and Britain in turn and founded a state. The argument outlived its first edition by decades.

Women who quit domestic service in Haitian towns were routinely accused of theft on their way out. Guilt and innocence in these cases were seldom established either way. What the women were doing was leaving, and leaving without notice was the only shape the departure could take. Carolle Charles records the terms in which poor, working-class and peasant women described the thing they were guarding. Kom se kawo tem: my body is a piece of land. Se lajam'm: it is money. Read that literally and it rearranges the sociology. A migrant with no property who sells her labour in a town belongs, by the standard categories, to the urban proletariat. A woman who holds a plot and works it decides for herself how hard to work it and how much of the yield to keep. These women were placing themselves in the second category. The body was the holding. Walking out of the house was how she set the rate.