A TRIBUTE TO MY FRIEND

Edouard Glissant died yesterday, and I, somehow, think everybody ought to know what that means; what the world has lost. No learned person in the francophone world would claim such ignorance. Edouard's brilliance, activism, poetry and prose; Edouard's scholarship and teaching have left profound and enduring contributions, impressions and influences. Edouard was, and will long remain the Caribbean's foremost Renaissance man. And yes, the Caribbean. Though he lived in Paris, I can still hear him announcing in that rich, heavily accented voice: "I am a West Indian." He was. Born and bred in Martinique, Edouard carried the place in his heart always. He loved the Caribbean--the warmth of the place and the people.

I was a graduate student when I met Edouard and his wife, beautiful Sylvie. We became fast friends. We laughed often. Shared meals and stories. I lived in Edouard and Sylvie's home in Baton Rouge. We were family. When I walked into the room for my dissertation defense, there sat Edouard, grinning. We'd left the same house that morning, but he neglected to tell me that James, my disseratation director, invited him to my defense. After the defense, Edouard revealed that he'd read my disseration and decided that I, indeed, had a "very smart."

I love him. He was a great man, a highly visible figure, sought after by students, colleagues and journalists. Edouard, more than anything, was a great man with a good heart--humble, loving, caring and kind. He was generous with his time, intellect and all material possessions. Edouard knew what mattered in this life.

Many years have passed since Edouard, Sylvie and I have shared the same physical space, but they, Olivier and Mathieu are always in my heart. There has never been a better man than Edouard Glissant. Never. I honor him, and I cherish every moment I was in his presence. Edouard's life was a gift to me and to many. I loved him in life, and I love him in death. Sweet rest, my brother. Sweet rest. Je t'aime.