Six long grey boxes with cream-white handles were lined up on tables covered with a black tablecloth. Resembling coffins in every way, the boxes are made of cardboard and the ties are made of cotton. In the family room of the Musée de l’Homme, on Tuesday morning, 17 September, silence reigns around the remains of Pékapé, Couani, Emo-Marita, Mibipi, Makéré and Miacapo. These Kalina Amerindians, kidnapped in Guyana in early 1892 to be exhibited in Paris, in the human zoos of the Jardin d’Acclimatation, died there of cold before seeing spring. From then on, they were nothing more than objects, in the secret of inalienable public collections. This morning they returned among the living for the first time. And we will pray for the appeasement of their souls.
A delegation of their descendants from Guyana and Suriname arrived at the Trocadéro in the autumn wind. They surrounded a shaman and four traditional chiefs from the villages of Terre-Rouge, Yanou Bellevue, Ayawande (Guyana) and Galibi (Suriname). They all wore the a’angsa, the multicoloured shawl worn during major ceremonies, which they also wore on the shoulders of Aurélie Clemente-Ruiz, the museum’s director.
“This is a historic day. A spiritual moment. For one hundred and thirty-two years, our elders have not heard the Kalina language. We are happy to be with them.”Corinne Toka Devilliers begins with tears in her eyes. She gave the name of her grandmother, Moliko, to the association founded in 2021, Moliko Alet + Po, for the return of corpses to the country. “We came with our forces to speak with our ancestors. It is time for them to return home”immediately adds Cécile Kouyouri, the first traditional Kalina chief appointed in Guyana in 1997.
“We can no longer avoid this story”
As the delegation and guests, led by shaman Reinier Aliamale, sit in front of the six boxes specially designed for the start of the ceremony, the excitement mounts. The Kalina hold hands. Dances and songs help with meditation, around cachiri, the traditional drink made from cassava. The lyrics also evoke the horrors of colonisation. “We can no longer avoid this story. The evidence is there”Corinne Toka Devilliers intervenes, after having placed some archival portraits in the boxes.. “This is how we see them: two women, one with her fetus, four men. The government can no longer keep them in these grey boxes.. »
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