Milano | CNYCA: Feet in Two Worlds: Talking Hearts: My First Radio Experience

Talking Hearts: My First Radio Experience

by Macollvie Jean-François, reporter, Haitian Times

Some time last year, I was listening to one of NPR’s segments. It was a Sunday morning, I think, and I was driving into Manhattan. Maybe it was to interview a photographer who had just released a new book of Haitians landscapes.

A reporter came on to guide us through the emotions of Mexican cattle ranchers living in some western state who had finally been granted their ancestral farmland after more than a century fighting to reclaim it from the U.S. government.

I was blown away by the ranchers’ relief and joy; their tearful, joy-filled voices vibrated inside my own chest. I felt happy for people everywhere who had fought righteously for something and won.

I don’t remember the specifics, but I remember the feelings. I thought, ‘Wow, I want to do that. How can I do that in my stories?’

When Minnesota Public Radio’s “Feet in Two Worlds” came along, I got tingly over the possibility of learning how that show was produced and experiencing another aspect of journalism. I didn’t get excited for nothing.

Simply put, radio broadcasting is fun. You look like even more of a journalist with a microphone in your hand instead of only a notepad, as we print people do.

Appearances aside, reporting for radio allowed me to see clearly the value of what my editors are telling me: let’s talk and tighten it up. I could go on and on with a story, trying to describe what I’ve seen or want to get across to people. I’ve failed partly because it is just so much harder to do in writing – unless you’re writing a novel – and also because my thoughts are often jumbled.

John Rudolph and I spent most of our time talking, talking, talking. Then the two of us talked some more with the program’s editor Karen Frillmann, after she and John had talked on their own, of course. Having these two-hour chats – sometimes held late at night after most people had left WNYC’s south tower – brought out so many ideas, opinions and counter viewpoints.

It seems simple now: Haitians support their families back home, even as they struggle themselves to adjust and thrive in America. Yes, I know that; what West Indian immigrant doesn’t? How much easier all of our lives would have been if we’d figured this out from the beginning?

And the 13 versions of this five-minute script that we went through? My initial seven-page “manuscript” was reduced to a mere two-and-a-half page document, about 1,000 words I could have written in my sleep.

Yet, it is so much richer than what I could type up. The clips in between my narration tell the story. Their hearts speak directly to the listener, the emotions unmistakable.

Jovens Moncoeur’s voice choked as he described the poverty he saw when he visited Haiti. He got lost in the memories, recounting them as if he were still in Carrefour, watching his little cousin shine shoes. People can hear that for themselves, the way I did when I heard those cattle ranchers’ perseverance, relief and gratitude.

For that, I forgive John and Karen for shortening the script, for suggesting that I rewrite it and for insisting that I redo my voice tracks so many times.

Regrettably, I could not spend as much time in the studio as I would have liked. But I had time to observe, ask questions and understand the technology.

I had not even entertained the thought of buying a minidisc music player when they were all the rage. Little did I know that the minidiscs serve so many functions. All of a sudden, the MDs and recorder became additional fixtures in my already heavy backpack.

I wanted to record everything. My little brother singing, my mother’s phone conversations and the sound of me folding laundry.

Silly, but it helped me feel comfortable when I interviewed people.

Speaking of which, half of the people I recorded did not make it into the story. One of them was a colorful and candid money transfer agent by the name of Gary Rosen. Another was David Landsman, president of the National Money Transmitters’ Association. Another was Dr. Manuel Orozco, a remittances expert at the Inter-American Development Bank.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t time to fit them in, but great quotes like Landsman’s “the reason people come here is so that they could send money back home” said it all.

The way Orozco explained just how important remittances are to sustain Haiti was also priceless. As luck would have it, however, I recorded him in mono instead of stereo. Why? Because on that brisk Sunday in December, when I trekked to City College, to record someone other than my family for the first time, the mic cable malfunctioned and I could not hear him over the headphones.

In a panicked state, I started pressing all the buttons – while he kept talking – and somehow changed the settings. If only I had known. If only I had asked John to check my equipment – just to be sure – before I got on that 1 Train. If only.

I learned though. After sound engineer Wayne Shulmister fixed it and showed me once more how to yank instead of twist the cable out of the recorder I was set.

The result of my five months as a sometime radio broadcaster did not make me want to cry like the ranchers did. While listening to the final edits, I noted at least half-a-dozen places where I could have either used a stronger adjective, enunciated, projected more or used different tape to make it better.

I’m not 100 percent satisfied and wish I had spent more time in the studio, but the money transfer piece is decent. Perhaps, someday, I may deliver a piece in print or on radio that hits someone, driving around somewhere, straight in the heart. But I know that this one should resonate with immigrants like myself straddling two worlds.