Kiltinou

Krik?

Ten years to know something.
Then a system with no way to pay you for it.

Patrick Jean-Baptiste
Patrick Jean-Baptiste

I have spent five years making the Nèg Mawon podcast. In that time I have sat with more than fifty scholars of Haitian and African studies and asked them to explain what they know. Historians, anthropologists, linguists, art historians. People who have given their working lives to a subject most of the world never gets taught.

Kiltinou came out of those conversations. Not the interviews themselves. What people told me after we stopped recording.

What it costs to know something

A doctorate is not a degree you pick up. It is a decade, and often more. Coursework, then comprehensive exams, then fieldwork in a place you have to fund your own way to, then years of writing while you teach somebody else's classes for a fraction of a salary. You finish in your middle thirties, sometimes later, carrying debt that started accruing before you knew what your dissertation would be about.

What you have at the end of it is rare. A scholar of Haitian history has read the archive in three languages. They have handled documents nobody has cited in fifty years. They can tell you why a thing happened, what everyone got wrong about it, and what it means now. That took ten years of patient, unglamorous, deep thinking, and there are very few people alive who did it.

The system that produced them has almost no way to pay them what it is worth.

The second job nobody mentions

Scholars have told me, quietly, about their side work. Driving for Uber. Freelance editing. Teaching a summer section that pays less than the childcare it requires. Some of these people teach at universities you have heard of, with endowments in the billions.

I want to be careful here, because none of them said it as a complaint. They said it the way you mention the weather. It is the arrangement, and they had made their peace with it long before I came along with a microphone.

I have not made my peace with it.

And the ground is moving

In August 2026, Northwestern University changed the status of its Program of African Studies, founded in 1948 and described by the university as the oldest of its kind in the country. Northwestern said the program had not closed and was transitioning away from its standing as a university-wide research institute. The program's director of outreach and operations told the Chicago Sun-Times that staff had been told weeks earlier the program would close and their jobs would end that month. A former director of the program said its staff had gone from five people to none.

Read the reporting in the Chicago Sun-Times

Whatever the truth of that particular case, the direction is not in dispute. Area studies programs are being consolidated, renamed, folded into something larger, and quietly staffed down to nobody. Every one of those decisions takes a livelihood off the board and a body of knowledge with it.

If the institutions will not carry this work, the work needs somewhere else to stand.

What Kiltinou is

A marketplace. That is the whole of it, and being exact about that matters more than making it sound bigger than it is.

You own everything you make here.
The copyright stays in your name. We publish it for you and we sell it for you. If you leave, it leaves with you.
You set your price.
You know what your course is worth better than we do, and you know who it is for better than we do.
You keep 80 percent of what it earns.
We keep 20. That pays for hosting, transcription, editing, payment processing, and the work of turning your answers into a course. If that number ever has to change, you will hear it from us before it applies to you, and it will never be applied backward.
You are responsible for your work.
Which is the other half of owning it. What you say here is yours. We do not put words in your mouth and we do not speak for you.

Lakou

A capacious lakou

A lakou is the yard. The shared ground a compound is built around, where the cooking happens and the arguments happen and the children run and the ceremonies are held. It belongs to everyone who lives around it and to no one in particular.

That is what I am trying to build here. A capacious lakou, with room in it, where somebody who spent ten years learning something can stand up, say it out loud, and be paid for it by the people who wanted to hear it.

You already know it. The only thing left is to say it.

Krak!

Tell us what you'd teach

A few questions about you and your subject. We read every one.

Start a course

Patrick Jean-Baptiste
Nèg Mawon · Rasanblaj Media Group