Through the portrait of Kettly Noël, internationally renowned Haitian dancer, actress, and choreographer, Monique Clesca retraces the journey of an artist whose body has become a language and a means of universal expression. From Mirebalais to Paris, we look back at the early years and artistic awakening of a woman who has contributed to the prominence of Haitian culture worldwide. The second part of this text will be published tomorrow, Friday, on the Culture page.<\/strong><\/p>

Movement is everywhere. In the almond-shaped eyes that meet mine at the top of the metro stairs, nestled in the Abbesses neighborhood of Paris where she has her habits. In the graceful momentum with which she climbs the steps amidst the buzzing crowd eager to leave the station. In the sculpted arms that open wide to embrace her counterpart. In the suppleness with which she crosses the boulevard. In the theatrical way she removes her glasses to better showcase the radiant smile on her face. In this series of breathtaking choreographies on complex subjects such as France's debt to Haiti that have rarely, if ever, been represented through dance. In Zabou, this zombie woman, whose regal presence will always be remembered, with her piercing gaze and the laughter of a madwoman wandering in the film Timbuktu<\/i> by Mauritanian director Abderrahmane Sissako. Between dance and performance, Zabou recounts January 12, 2010, in Haiti: "The earthquake is my body, the cracks are me.... I am cracked everywhere, Gonaïves you too<\/i>…" Kettly Noel, with her crown of tightly coiled hair gathered to face the sky, is the lovely and brilliant personification of movement. Her body, average in height, slender yet elegantly muscled, and with a satin sapodilla color, has always spoken for her. She puts it most simply: "I live my life as a dancer and choreographer<\/i>." <\/p>

It is not an exaggeration to say that Kettly Noel has broadened the scope and reach of Haitian culture around the world. If only because of her artistic talent, the themes addressed in her dances, and the gravitas she brings to her projects. After more than 20 years of performances in France and across Africa, she returns to Haiti as the guest of honor at the Festival Quatre Chemins from November 23 to December 5. This dance enthusiast is the star of a program mainly made up of poetry, performance-theater, blending classical shows, theater, and dance.<\/p>

On the day we meet her, the 59-year-old dancer wears light-washed baggy jeans, a striped jacket, silver sneakers, a scarf around her neck, and a huge crocodile bag that could accommodate all of Paris. Kettly Noel has an easy way with words and a troubling habit of letting her sentences die in the wind—more movement again.<\/p>

Raised in the fresh air of Mirebalais by dressmaker Marie-Rose Lucie Noël, her "beautiful, feminine, and stylish<\/i>" mother, Kettly Noel reminisces about her parents who never lived together. In her child’s eyes, most of the teachers were in love with her mother "strong and independent with a fierce character, a woman who has never depended on a man<\/i>" and who now lives in the United States. She is the daughter of a local notable: Judge Molie Quitel, who was also a notary and mayor. From him, who passed away when she was 11, she has vague memories such as "that he drank a lot, that he had a large library and was interested in stars and galaxies<\/i>." Years later, the dancer discovers her large siblings, five half-brothers and a half-sister who is a surgeon and pastor in Brooklyn, when one of them comes to greet her after a performance in Haiti, then introduces her to her big family.<\/p>

Kettly Noel clung to her passion from a young age. Thanks to school, Collège St Pierre de Mirebalais. "There were beautiful female teachers, tall, feminine, and male teachers,<\/i>" she says with her soft voice. "They were people from the elite of the city, the local bourgeoisie, notable people from the countryside.<\/i>" Her first artistic emotions date back to when she started acting in theater during the school’s three major festive periods: Christmas, Easter, and year-end closing, and then she adds with a mischievous smile, that there was also the May 1st celebration, the flag day on May 18, and Mother’s Day. "I’ve always been around cultural things. I loved reciting, I loved reading texts and saying things. I was happy. Artistic endeavors have always been important, and this gave me a particular attention at school and curiosity.<\/i>" She insists on admitting that she gained "a little popularity for my resourcefulness.<\/i>" She discovers the emotions the stage provides, especially as she introduces herself to choreography without knowing: "I had done a dance number called The Storm Calée.<\/i>" <\/p>

She accepted herself in front of others who had called her since childhood "Kettly the artist. They liked me a lot. I met people who always encouraged me to continue. There was no calculation, and I was not afraid. I was rather mischievous with a certain form of intelligence and carefreeness<\/i>." <\/p>

That said, it is in this same provincial society where she grew up that she first observes color and class prejudices. "Before Port-au-Prince, I began to understand that being grimelle, like my mother, was an asset in Haiti. I had not realized what this meant in bourgeois society. I hadn’t understood that I was black before the 'gad figi w non, ou tou nwa' I heard once.<\/i>" <\/p>

Her life changes at nine when her mother moves to Port-au-Prince. She lives with an aunt and starts travelling to the capital for holidays. Two years later, at the age of eleven, with her primary school certificate in hand, she leaves her hometown to settle with her mother in the Bas-Peu-de-Chose neighborhood. Then, the injunctions "be careful with men<\/i>" and "avoid bad company<\/i>" poured in from her mother to her “Joujou”.<\/p>

It is in the capital that she fully dives into her life as a dancer.<\/p>

N.B.: Monique Clesca is the author of Silence and Resistance, Memoir of a Girlhood in Haiti<\/i>, published by Wordeee.<\/p>