I salute you, Mr. André Pasquet. I salute you, Dadou.

To you, living monument of Haitian music, and to this country that wounds us even in exile, I offer this simple tribute, yet filled with deep gratitude. Dadou, the last time we spoke, I perceived in your words that calm strength of men who have weathered the seasons without ever betraying their conscience. There was in you that stubborn faith in youth, mixed with the bitterness our country leaves on the tongue of those who love it to the point of pain. This blend of lucidity and hope spoke volumes about your visceral connection with Haiti. You told me you started working very young, barely a teenager, in a place that wasn't your own. You had spent years before understanding that one never truly leaves their country, even when life forces us to keep our distance. This back-and-forth between leaving and returning, between tearing oneself away and hoping, is part of our common destiny. You had returned to settle in the country, with the desire to reconnect with the land, before being forced, once again, to take the path back to the United States. As if Haiti called us without ever managing to hold us back. What a journey, Dadou. And what constancy. Your music has always been a landmark, a reassuring presence, a memory in motion. Your guitar, your vibrant interpretation of the national anthem, your committed voice in Pran konsyans, your profound mark within Magnum Band have accompanied entire generations. I followed Magnum everywhere: in New York, Florida, at Press Café. Wherever you went, I recognized myself. I became a 'magnumiste,' and I will remain one for the rest of my days, faithful to this musical heritage that has shaped an essential part of my identity. At this moment, my thoughts also go to Hervé St-Preux, Jacques Yvon Pierre, and Alin Louis Hall, companions of intense, profound, endless discussions. These conversations about our country's flaws, dreams, and possibilities take on a particular, almost painful resonance today. In my imagination, I made Bel-Air Frankétienne's city. Today, I dare to make Pétion-Ville yours. Not as a geographical claim, but as a symbolic territory where your memory will continue to breathe. While some strive to demolish Haiti, I, for my part, endeavor to rebuild it through music, literature, and transmission. I salute your memory.
I salute your journey.
I salute your immense contribution. My thoughts are with your family, Tico, and all those deeply affected by your departure. You leave behind much more than a memory: an indelible mark, a singular voice, a style, a conscience. And above all, a rare lesson: that of fidelity to Haitian culture, against all odds. And to all those who continue to harm this already wounded land, may they finally hear the urgency to change, to stop making this people suffer, a people who ask only to live upright, in dignity and light. Respect, Dadou. Yves Lafortune
Sunrise, Florida
November 23, 2025