In a recovery of identity through Papiamentu: the talents of Elis Juliana. (2024)

Translation has a seemingly natural relation to migration in the sense that it transports words, ideas, and the expressions of life in an immediate awareness of other language, cultures, and societies. In the Caribbean Sea lie Aruba, Bonaire, and Curacao, three little islands bathed in the tropical sun, filled with the sounds and smells whispering of long lost ties to other continents. In this milieu a Creole language, Papiamentu, was born to become the mother tongue of those who called the islands home. To the world outside these islands, Creoles are deemed conservative systems of communication used by minuscule populations; however, through the senses and expressions, and especially the writings of Antillean authors, one quickly learns that Papiamentu and its literature has virtually the same features that are found in other languages and literatures. These authors live Papiamentu as their natural and legitimate form of expression wherein to make present the distinctive Afro-Caribbean timbre and rhythm of their language. They celebrate their language in their artistic and literary creations and in doing so aspire to secure a place for it in their culture, society, and history. The Curacaoan perhaps best recognized for his cultural sensitivities and commitments is Elis Juliana. His advanced age has not prevented him from doing what has fascinated him since his youth: documenting, compiling, collecting, and enacting the culture of his native Curacao. Not only has he opened a political and educational space for his beloved Papiamentu, but he has also foregrounded its cultural heritage, oral traditions, slavery, and its songs that mark those times long past.

Elis Juliana was born August 8, 1927, in Willemstad, Curacao, one of the islands of the Netherlands Antilles. The poverty of his youth, as he recalls, was also the energy that ignited his mental and intellectual growth. Nor has the sense of wonder that characterized Elis as a boy abated in advanced age. As a boy he would look for hours at busy anthills imagining himself inside the tunnels working alongside the worker ants. Later, he spent many expeditionary hours capturing the tiniest details as he traveled from inside his own kura [yard] to out of the city and into the kunuku [countryside]. Already then Juliana's understanding exemplified a capacity for responsibility wherein the metric of life finds roots in the visceral sensibility of his body, so evident later in his arts.

Juliana was still a youth when the Shell Petroleum Company attracted many newcomers to Curacao from the neighboring islands as well as from other continents. It was also the time of radio, and Cuban music could be heard everywhere. Theater and other cultural venues had their beginnings and enjoyed a wide following. Amid these cultural and technological changes, the young Juliana found his niche and began to develop a sense of identity. He worked at various jobs, including mechanic and bank teller. He also tried his hand at writing, often reciting his poetry and stories on the radio. While still in his teens, he worked as a comic and joined the Jolly Fellows Society, an organization of young men that was founded in 1946 with the aim to provide a forum for resistance of the Roman Catholic clergy, the official Dutch, as well as the Spanish language, which was much in vogue at the time. The meetings of the Society became an opportunity for reciting their writings in Papiamentu, for re-enacting their traditional tambu [Antillean drum] and seu [harvest] dances, and for reliving their annual carnival celebrations--all in service of giving voice to Papiamentu and its traditions in poetry, song, and dance (Rutgers 273-4).

Flor di Datu [Cactus Flower], one of Juliana's early collections of poetry, endeavored to instill in his fellow Antilleans his sense of identity with Papiamentu, of course, but also with a social-political sense of their homeland. Juliana also extended his reach as an artist at this time and, with passion and patience, studied the history and culture of his native land and developed as a poet, storyteller, painter, and sculptor. Together with that other great explorer and researcher, the Dutch priest, Father Paul Brenneker, Juliana would visit the elderly and collect an invaluable treasure of dates, oral history, and songs that began as a reluctant curiosity but burgeoned into a magnificent passion for this unlikely pair. Juliana had already been privy to some of this oral tradition by way of the voices of his mother and grandmother. He was already a collector not only of stories but also of artifacts, documents, and art forms which are now displayed in various museums in Aruba and Bonaire as well as in the Zinkinza Foundation in Curacao (Martinus 18). Juliana presented authentic renditions of that oral culture that included old Guene songs. In the past this orature was usually presented at night or during the eight-day wakes that accompanied funerals, but Juliana's medium for storytelling was radio, later television, and more recently compact disks. Juliana also contributed to children's writing in Papiamentu, and his collection Aventura di un Kriki [The Adventures of a Cricket], apparently written for children, is also savored by adults as Juliana expertly deploys a tongue-in-cheek approach to the serious themes of life. The beginning of the book where Juliana pokes fun at himself (the cricket) and others is hilarious.

 Halo, ke tal? Eee ... dispensa mi e familiaridat. M'a lubida ku ta ku HENDE mi ta papia. Segun mi a tende, hende no sa gusta pa trata nan ku muchu frankesa. Pero siendo ami un INSEKTO, mi por a lubida esei, komo den nos bida, nos kultura, no ta nesesario hunga papel di hipokrita. Nos--krikinan--semper ta trata otro sin ningun klase di pantomina. No ku ami ta kritika HENDE komo pantomina. Esei no ta mi intenshon. Pero si mi por a hasi esei kaba, anto mi ta pidi mil bes dispensa, komo mi no ke pa hende pensa ku nos--krikinan--ta karese di edukashon, pa nan bin hana mas rabia riba nos di loke nan tin kaba. Nos ta bon eduka den tur sentido. Mi mes, por ehempel, ta doktor den krikilogia. No muchu tempu pasa m'a finalisa mi estudio na e universidat di mas grandi den mundu di kriki. Pero permiti mi introdusi mi mes. Mi nomber ta Krikilokoltafis Sualimethadoris, i pa karino nan ta yamami Kriki. [Hello, how are you? Oh ... forgive me for being informal. I forgot that I am speaking to PEOPLE. According to what I have heard, people usually do not like being treated with such frankness. But seeing that I am an INSECT, I am apt to have forgotten that, because in our way of life, our culture, it is not necessary to play the role of a hypocrite. We--crickets--always treat each other without any kind of pretense. Not that I am criticizing PEOPLE as pretending. That is not my intention. But if indeed I did so already, I ask for forgiveness a thousand times, as I do not want that people think that we--crickets--lack education, so that they will not get even angrier with us than they already are. We have been well-educated in every sense of the word. I, for instance, am a Doctor of Cricketology. Not too long ago, I finished my education at the greatest university in the cricket world. But let me introduce myself. My name is Krikilokoltafis Sualimethadoris, and they call me Kriki for short.] (Adventura 3)

The work won several literary prizes and Juliana's fame spread quickly; he was honored with the erection of a statue, and a film was made of his life, work, and aspirations. Not withstanding his numerous artistic accomplishments, Juliana persists in an aspiration to perfection. When the first author, Helene Garrett, visited Juliana in October of 2003 during the launch of her translation of Un mushi di Haiku [A dram of Haiku], he commented that the haiku he had written were his very first efforts and were not particularly good. He welcomed the opportunity to rewrite them and create better ones.

Juliana's poetry leaves the reader to contemplate the good and the bad in life. Poetry is the soul and pride of a people. There are no people without culture, and Juliana wonders about the claims to a superior and progressive culture. Striking for its rhythmic meter and the musical sound patterns inherent in the language itself, Papiamentu poetry seems a direct descendant from the oral literary traditions of the islands. Juliana's style is uncomplicated, always shying away from affected diction. This simplicity accentuates the rhythm of his poetry. The following poem needs to be read aloud so as to hear the full flavor and Juliana's masterful use of rhythm. Sadly, the printed form is unable to express the powerful rhythmic cadence of the original "duck walk."

 He Patu The Duck He patu ta janga. The duck sashays. He patu ta rondia The duck looks for Hun tiki kuminda A bit of food Pa su muchanan. For her offspring. He pa ki. This-a-way. He pa ya. That-a-way. He pa ki. This way. He pa ya. And that. He patu ta zoja. The duck waddles. Su yuinan den fila. Her chicks in tow. Nan rabu ta zoja Their tails are swishing Mescos cu mama. Just like mama's. He pa ki. This-a-way. He pa ya. That-a-way. He pa ki. This way. He pa ya. And that. He patu ta mira The duck spots Hun tiki cuminda A bit of food Pone den un bleki Placed in a tin Den huki cura. In the corner of the yard. He pa ki. This-a-way. He pa ya. That-a-way. He pa ki. This way. He pa ya And that. He patu ta come. The duck eats. Su yiunan ta come Her chicks eat Te ora nan laga Until they leave He blicki bashi. The tin quite empty. Kiko ta muchanan? What is this chickies? Kiko ta? What is this? He baricanan tur Are all your tummies Ta jena? Quite full? He patu ta canga The duck sways Su saja di patu. Her duck bottom. Su yuinan ta sigi Her chicks all follow Den fila su tras. In a row behind. He pa ki. This-a-way. He pa ya. That-a-way. He pa ki. This way. He pa ya. And that. (Juliana, Flor di Datu 51-2)

Juliana is equally at home in Dutch. Helene Garrett's encounter with Juliana's work was as a youngster when, in one of her school assemblies, someone read He Patu "The Duck." A short while later, she had to learn the poem by heart. A strange occurrence, learning by heart a Papiamentu poem when Dutch was the official language of instruction, and Papiamentu was even forbidden on the school playground! To this day she remembers those first lines of He Patu; not their meaning but the rhythm of the "duck walk" was clear from the refrain: He pa ki, he pa ya. If learning by heart affords the text a clarity of consciousness, it is perhaps not so remarkable that Garrett's own sense of identity led her to learn and study Papiamentu later in life. In any case, her next encounter with Juliana's work was years later when, during her Master's degree studies, she received a copy of Un mushi di Haiku and immediately set out to translate these haiku.

Returning several years later to Curacao and Aruba to do research on Papiamentu, Garrett finally met Juliana in person. Graciously, he granted her several hours, and she was able to ask him about a particular turn of phrase or idiomatic expression. He replied that by reading and re-reading the haiku aloud one would come to understand. While translating Un mushi di Haiku, Garrett also read about Matsuo Basho, the first recognized haiku poet. Juliana tries, like Matsuo, to compress the significances of life into the simple meaning patterns of his haiku. Never a follower of Asian world views, Juliana always did and continues daily to set himself apart in a small atelier behind his home where he writes. It is readily apparent to a discerning reader that Juliana's Papiamentu haiku fully absorbed the harmony and delicately conceived criteria of this Japanese art form. Yet, the rhythm, style, and imagery are just as readily recognizable to the Papiamentu Antillean. Several of the haiku in the Un mushi di Haiku collection are presented below.

Un mama para A mother stands withku su yu karga na seit her child carried on her hipkantu di lama. close by the seashore.(Juliana, Haiku in Papiamentu 89)

Quite banal in translation, it has a haunting quality in Papiamentu. A wife with a child on her hip stands forlornly looking out over the sea waiting for her husband's safe return.

Un machi sinta A woman seatedku su parasol kibra 'neath a broken parasol.ta bende suerte. Seller of good luck.(Haiku 45)

The vivid image of a poor soul sitting underneath a broken parasol under the hot tropical sun, someone whom Lady Luck has passed by, this woman tries to make some money by selling, ironically, biyechi [lottery tickets] or good luck.

Alkoholiko The alcoholicta sunchi asta stupi will kiss even the dirtyshushi di un shap. steps of an outlet.(Haiku 33)Ku masha duele With much sadness thee burache a benta drunkard grudgingly discardse boter afo. the empty bottle.(Haiku 62)

Juliana presents the disturbing image of the drunk as a comic figure in the grips of the disease of an alcoholic, who is down on his luck and in need of a drink, but who stumbles onto the steps of a liquor outlet and ends up kissing the dirty steps. Humor is not only vital to life, but it deflates the seriousness of the event and hence helps us to cope.

Dos strea ta frei Two stars are flirting,ku kinipi di wowo. winking eyes at each other.Noche tropikal. A tropical night! (Haiku 40)

As two lovers the twinkling stars in the dark, velvety tropical sky see the spark in each other's eyes.

Fabor no basha Please do not squanderawa di wowo riba mi. your salty tears upon me.Lagami seku! Let me remain dry!(Haiku 55)

Woven into old Papiamentu songs there is the theme that those slaves who died without ingesting salt in the new world would be able to fly home to Africa. Yet, the salt from their tears even after burial might delay the flight home.

Pa chansa dos bieu Two elders in jestta felisita otro congratulate each other:hopi ana mas. "Many more to come!"(Haiku 22)

Despite their advanced age, there is the dark humor of irony that each wishes the other many more years to come.

Juliana also wrote his haiku in English: in his conversation with Garrett, he composed the following in the moment.

 Each year anew Tiger vows to become a vegetarian.

A defender of women within the context of the islands, Juliana, in an interview with Ieteke Witteveen, comments that most men hang out in bars where they brag about their masculinity and independence:

 Vrouwen lopen niet op te scheppen over hun onafhankelijkheid. Zij doen het, zonder er veel woorden aan vuil te maken. De man, die zich minder voelt, bluft. De vrouw was nooit ondergeschikt. Ze liet de man in de waan dat ze het was, maar ze was het niet. Dat is de politiek van vrouwen. Het in de waan laten. We zijn opgevoed in de politiek van laten geloven. Zo blijft de man met zijn superioriteit complex. Hij voelt zich tegenlijkertijd minderwaarding maar dat camoufleert hij achter een superioriteits gedrag. [Women do not go around bragging about their independence. They just are, without wasting many words. The man who feels inferior just brags. Women were never inferior. They let men believe that they were, but they never were. That is the way of a woman. To make believe. We are raised in a society of make believe. In this way man hangs on to his superiority complex. He does indeed feel inferior, but he hides it by acting superior.]

In his adaptation of the well-known prayer, Hail Mary, Juliana takes up the cause of women in the Caribbean.

Muhe WomanMuhe mi ta kuminda bo Hail woman, I greet you.Bo lucha ta hustifika. Your struggle is justified.Fo'i den temp'i kouchi boulo From the onset of timebo eksistensia ta deskrimina. Your existence has beendiscriminated.Ken a pari Atlas ku ta karga Who bore Atlas who carries themundu ku no por drei sin bo? world which would not function without you?... Tata, yu, spiritu santu ... ... Father, Son, Holy Ghost ...Mama semper a keda afo. Mother is always left out.(Juliana, OPI 25)

When Garrett visited Juliana, she was deeply moved by a poem he recited: Kanta Kweru [Sing Drum]. In his youth, Juliana commented, he greatly admired the Cuban poet, Nicolas Guillen, whose works revealed the richness of African culture and society. Guillen traced the Afro-Cuban experience and denounced the racial discrimination suffered by Negroes and Mulattos alike. A member of the Communist Social Party, Guillen defended the Cuban revolution until his death in 1989. One of his most famous poems is called Sensemaya [a song to sing while killing a snake]. The rhythm of the words in this poem, perhaps more than in any other of Guillen's poems, expresses a mounting frenzy in a scene where participants struggle with each other in a test of wills.

Juliana's Kanta Kweru borrows from Guillen's theme and style in telling the story of a hapless slave who received a terrible beating. In the distance the slave faintly hears the tambu which magically restores his broken body and mind. Through swollen and bloodied lips, he repeatedly mumbles Mi ke lanta [I want to stand up], and each repetition brings him new strength in body and will until he finally speaks Mi a lanta [I stood up].

Kanta, kweru kayente, kanta Sing, hot drum, singkanta, kweru kayente, kanta sing, hot drum, singkweru, kanta eh pa mi lanta, drum, sing hey, so I can get up,pa mi lanta, eh pa mi lanta get up, hey, so I can get upkanta, kweru kayente, kanta sing, hot drum, singkweru, no puntra pa ki'mi ke lanta drum, don't ask why I want to get upmi ke lanta, mi ke lanta I want to get up, I want to get upai, mi lomba, eh mi ke lanta, Oh, my back, hey I want to get upeh mi ke lanta kweru kanta Oh, I want to stand up, hot drummi ke lanta, eh mi ke lanta I want to get up, hey I want to stand upai, mi lomba, eh mi ke lanta Oh, my back, hey I want to get upkanta, kweru kayente, kanta sing, hot drum, singmi ta lanta, eh mi ta lanta, I am standing up, hey I am standingariba, lomba, eh sigi wanta up, back, oh just continue to bear it,mi ta lanta, mi ta lanta I am getting up, I am standing upeh m'a lanta, kweru, m'a lanta hey, I am standing up, drum, I am upkweru, m'a lanta, para wanta drum, I am up, bear itsigi kanta, kweru, m'a lanta continue to sing, drum, I am standingm'a lante, m'a lanta I am up, I am upkanta, kweru kayente, kanta sing, hot drum, singkanta, kweru kayente, kanta, sing, hot drum, sing,kanta, kanta ... sing, sing ... (Broek 214)

Juliana learned to write these feelings and rhythms in availing himself of the wisdom of others, as noted above, together with Brenneker in numerous interviews with the elderly and in recording their songs and stories at harvest feasts, New Year's parties, and the ocho dia [eight-day wakes]. Indeed, many of Juliana's writings echo this traditional orature, and his allusions and insinuations find their origins here. The Curacaoan educator, Joceline Clemencia, notably in her role as the director of the National Language Institute, was instrumental in promoting public interest in Juliana's arts. It is not strange, she remarks, that Juliana is viewed as a witty and humorous writer, for after all he began his public life as a stand-up comic with the Jolly Fellows Society. However, as she notes, Juliana was not always ranked as a serious writer. At times his work was received with derision and surprise at the seemingly unfeeling and even crude expressions in his writings. If there were times of heartfelt appreciation for his courage, there was also outright rejection for his direct confrontation in exposing the truth. Clemencia was able to show in her work, OPI i e Gran Kamuflahe [OPI and the Great Camouflage], that Juliana was in fact a skilled writer who cleverly portrayed the hypocrisy in the political mandates of the time and gave strength to the voice of Antillean relationships between men and women, adults and children, and the everydayness of Papiamentu speakers (Broek 225).

Asked about the significance of the work of a man first ridiculed and later applauded by his compatriots, Joceline Clemencia in her essay De Tien Onthullende Terreinen van het Julianisme [Ten Terrains Revealed in Julianism] presents an extended argument in support of the University of the Netherlands Antilles' intent to confer a Doctor Honoris Causa on Elis Juliana. Reviewing his life, character, and values, Clemencia mentions the many terrains where Juliana's arts have trod and concludes with his immense contribution to Curacaoan society and culture. She coins "Julianism" for a phenomenon nationally and internationally recognized.

Juliana was also a collector in Aruba and Bonaire where Papiamentu is spoken, and Clemencia, who applauds Juliana for his artistic accomplishments, also makes the point that Juliana's grasp of the islands' folklore is not only the identity of Curacaoans, but also the identity of the Antilles. Juliana's identity as established in his collected folklore and writings are the islands' identity, their soul. High praise indeed!

Juliana's arduous and patient collection of folk traditions made possible a reconstruction of the Curacaoan past. His meticulous research methods documented historical facts through stories told by the elderly, and to this day his collection constitutes primary evidence for the oral traditions of Curacao. Juliana is the authoritative interpreter of the tambu. He recounts that the first slaves used to meet in a secret location in the wee hours of the night so as to alleviate their mental and physical pain and anguish in dance and songs of sorrow.

 E sitio di kombitu generalmente tabata planea na un bon distansha di e abitashon (landhuis) di dono i pafo di plantashi. E tamburero, o sea tokado di tambu, tabata toka e tambu den un estilo masha domina, tambu frena o sera, di moda ku e sonido lo no karga bai leu for di e sitio komo si deskubri nan, nan kastigu lo tabata masha severo. Ku bos abou, pisa i karga di temor i amargura, e kantado ta kuminsa murmura un melodia lamentoso, por ehempel, referiendo na nan posishon komo katibu, konsidera i trata komo animal i Shon tabata bendenan meskos ku ta hende galina. [The meeting place generally was planned to be at a good distance away from the house of the landowner, and outside the plantation. The drummer, or he who played the tambu, would play it in a very subdued manner, so that the sound would not carry far beyond the meeting place, because if they were discovered, their punishment would be very severe. In a soft voice, heavy and laden with emotion and bitterness, the singer begins to murmur a sorrowful tune, for instance, referring to their situation as slaves, regarded and treated as animals, and how the owner would sell them in the same way as if he were selling chickens.] (Broek 8)

The gathered slaves would dance in rhythmic movements to the lament of the "caller." These movements were a shaking and shuddering of upper bodies without movement below the waist.

 E bailado ta para stret riba su kurpa, kara dilanti, su brasanan slap kologa na su kurpa. Hisando su hilchi di pia drechi e ta lanta su pia robes kompleto for di suela, pues e ta lanta henter su kurpa i keda na haltu riba su tenchi di pia drechi. Luego e ta laga su peso di kurpa baha riba su pia robes ku un kaida plat, sin dobla e rudia, ke men e rudia robes no ta dobla pa fangu o wanta e kaida. Ku e kaida ei e bailado ta sinti un sagudi o shok pasa den henter su kurpa. Ta manera e ta hana un bano frio for di su kabes te pia o sea un koriente for di den su sesunan ta baha pasa den henter su kurpa bin sali bou di su pia robes plat riba suela. Bo por eksperensia un shok asina ora, por ehempel bahando un stupi, bo dal un stap mal kalkula i bo kai para stret riba hilchi. Ku e kaida ei bo por deskontrola pa un momento i bo wowonan ta bira skur i basta ratu despues bo por keda ta sinti un dolo di kabes. Pues ripitiendo e kaida o sea e pas di baile di tambu tras di otro e katibu ta hinka su mes den un medio-trans komo ku kada paso di kaida e ta kontinua e koriente ku ta pasa di su serebro pa su pia. Den tal estado e ta perde kontakto ku realidat o sea e koriente ku ta pasa den su kurpa pa sali bou di su planta di pia robes, sali tambe ku tur su noshon di dolo i amargura. Pues, baliando tambu e por laba su pena, su desesperashon. Un senor hulandes ku a yega di demostra interes den folklore di Korsou a pensa ku kisas e baile di kokocha aki lo por a origina ku kortamentu di e muskulo di hilchi di e katibunan ku a hui. Despues ku a kapturanan a mankanan di tal forma pa nan no bolbe hui pero asina leu investiga nunka tal kos no a sosode aki na Korsou. [The dancer stands up straight, face forward, the arms hanging loosely alongside the body. Lifting up the heel of the right foot, he lifts up his whole body and stands on tippy toes of the right foot. Then he lets the weight of his body down upon his left foot with a dull thud, flat, without bending the knees, that is to say, the left knee does not bend to break or to shift the weight of the fall. With this downfall, the dancer feels a shaking or a shock pass through his whole body. It is as if one receives a cold shower from head to toes, or as if a current is going through his whole nervous system, exiting under his left foot that is flat against the ground. You can experience such a shock, when for instance, you go down a step and you miscalculate the step and come to land rather unexpectedly flat on your heels. With such a downfall, one could become confused for a moment, even causing your eyes to blur for a while and for some time after, you may be left with a tremendous headache. Thus, executing this footfall or else the tambu dance step repeatedly would cause the slave to enter a semi trance state as with each dance step he would cause the continuation of the current to pass from his brain down to his left foot. In this way he would loose contact with reality or in other words, the same way in which the current would run through the body to exit through the sole of the left foot, all notions of pain and anger would leave the same way. So, while dancing the tambu, he would wash away his pain, his desperation. One Dutchman who showed an interest in Curacaoan folklore came to believe that perhaps this unsteady hobbling could have originated with the cutting of the Achilles heel tendon of the slaves who tried to flee. After catching them, they maimed them in this way to discourage further attempts to flee, but this has never been proved to have happened in Curacao.] (Broek 38-9)

The people of the Antilles possess eccentricities and express nuances that are of a sixth sense. Juliana's haiku express these caprices and nuances with great subtlety, and it is only in reading and re-reading the poet that we come to understand the speakers of Papiamentu. Juliana writes for his people; his is an explicit effort at emancipation. He tries to reinstate a lost collective in the traditions as well as in the memories of those still traumatized. He is an educator in the power of the word and, in pride of heritage, hopes to contribute to the reconstruction of Papiamentu identity.

Identity can benefit from a re-reading, an interpretative translation, in the sense of a re-enactment of the Papiamentu in another tongue by one who has ingested the text. Not merely a knowledge of two languages, nothing less than a creative identity will do. Here, translation reposes on an imaginative re-living and on migration to foreign places wherein the original is brought alive once again. Such is not to split allegiances, rather it is to ground one's identity in the soil of the earth. George Steiner reminds us that one can come to live one presentation against the other in making a past text a "present presence" (13). Juliana's art is one of emancipation, of reconstruction. A re-reading translation inevitably carries the past beyond, not beyond emancipation, of course, nor beyond reconstruction in Papiamentu; rather, beyond the resonances of the English to the other of Papiamentu.

Works Cited

Broek, Aart, Ed. Pa Saka Kara: Historia di Literatura Papiamentu. 3 Vols. Korsou: Fundashon Pierre Lauffer, 1998.

Clemencia, Joceline. De Tien Onthullende Terreinen van het Julianisme. Curacao: NP, 1997.

--. OPI i e Gran Kamuflahe: Tokante poesia di Elis Juliana. Curacao: Teritorio Insular di Korsou, 1989.

Garrett, Helene. "Identity in the Papiamentu Haiku of Elis Juliana." Unpublished Master'sThesis Edmonton: Quality P, 2000.

Juliana, Elis. Aventura di un Kriki. Curacao: Scherpenheuvel N.V., 1960.

--. Flor di Anglo. Willemstad, Korsou: Scherpenheuvel, 1961: 17.

--. Flor di Datu. Curacao: Scherpenheuvel, 1956.

--. Haiku in Papiamentu. Trans. H. Garrett. Edmonton: U of Albert P, 2003.

--. OPI IV (Organisashon Planifikashon Independensha). Korsou: Drukkerij Scherpenheuvel, 1988.

--. "Origen di baile di tambu na Korsou." Pa Saka Kara. Vol 1.2. Aart Broek, ed. Korsou: Foundashon Pierre Lauffer, 1998. 38-46.

--. Personal Interview. 25 and 27 April 2000.

--. Un mushi di Haiku. Korsou: Sede di Papiamentu, 1994.

Martinus, Frank. The Kiss of a Slave: Papiamentu's West-African Connections. Doct. Dis. Amsterdam, 1996.

Rutgers, Wim. Beneden en Boven de Wind: Literatuur van de Nederlandse Antillen en Aruba. Amsterdam: De Bezige Bij, 1996.

Steiner, George. Real presences. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1989.

Witteveen, Ieteke. Interview with Elis Juliana: Ik leef voor de mensen van morgen. Amigoe 23 Aug. 1997, sec Napa: 1.

Zinkinza Foundation. Zinkinza. [Alphabetical list of Guene songs and numerical] list of Guene-tapes]. Curacao, 1974.

HELENE GARRETT (1) AND LEENDERT P. MOS

(1) The first author, Helene Garrett, is the translator throughout.