Artist. Jacmel.

Artist. Jacmel.

At first, Jadris hesitated.

He listened more than he spoke. But once he began, his words carried the weight of devotion to his city and to what he believes it still holds.

To him, a Jacmelian is someone sensitive. Someone who wears their heart openly. Someone ready to help the poor and the vulnerable, not out of obligation, but instinct.

"Vrè senbòl ki repranzete Jakmel la se on kè."

For Jadris, the true symbol of Jacmel is simple.

A heart.

He speaks of unity with urgency. He believes that if Haitians were to gather together, truly together, the country would change. That insecurity would give way to care. That fear would lose its grip. That Haiti would return to its beauty, the pearl of the Caribbean.

As he speaks, a passerby joins the conversation.

He adds that Jacmel is the union of love and festivity. That joy and responsibility are not separate things here. They live side by side.

Jadris nods. There is no hesitation now.

This conversation now lives inside LAKAY NOUKA.

Some stories become objects.
Others remain words.

 

 

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LAKAY NOUKA

We sit with artists, elders, and dreamers across Ayiti and the diaspora. We ask questions that carry weight. What they share shapes what we create.

Artist. Jacmel.

Artist. Jacmel.

For Jadris, the true symbol of his city is a heart.  A conversation about sensitivity, unity, and the belief that Haiti can return to its beauty.
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Machann Pistach. Jacmel.

Machann Pistach. Jacmel.

She grinds, bags, and sells peanuts by hand so she does not have to rely on anyone. A life shaped by work, continuity, and quiet independence.
Read more
Student. Jacmel.

Student. Jacmel.

When she is on stage, Nesterline forgets the rest of the world. A conversation about presence, movement, and choosing one's own path.
Read more