The spirit of community, from the neighborhood to the restaurant
When it gets dark, the light from Cantine Burgz, Jackson Joseph's restaurant, lights up the sidewalk like a lantern. In the afternoon, the luminosity of the room almost competes with the light of day. As they pass by the window, many passers-by greet the owner with their hands. “It's like an aquarium here. You can see everything.”
If it is Jackson who is noticed behind the window, he is nevertheless the observer. A resident of the neighborhood, he has only known South-West Montreal, and nothing escapes him.
With the frequency with which young and old wave to him in passing, it's easy to imagine people playing the girl in front of the counter at mealtime. It can be deduced that the restaurant and its owner are well liked in the area. But that, behind his unwavering pragmatism, he is not the one who will tell you.
The human behind the restaurant
At Cantine Burgz, you can enjoy comforting Haitian dishes cooked in a traditional way. Mr. Joseph has combined two things that he particularly enjoys: the cuisine of his country of origin and this neighborhood that is dear to him. And if the recipe is traditional, the chicken is halal here. “I have friends who are from the Muslim community. Out of respect for people who have this faith, I do it,” says the restaurant owner, who does not practice any religion. As summer approaches, he promises us new items on the menu, with dishes to be enjoyed on the go.
The idea to open a counter came to him when his family visited the United States. “I have cousins who came from Boston. They wanted to eat Haitian food and I realized that we didn't have any in this part of town,” he said. Three years later, in the summer of 2020, the restaurant opened its doors on Charlevoix Street in Pointe-Saint-Charles.
“I decided that, despite the pandemic, we had to continue,” he recalls. The difficulties are numerous: labour and materials are difficult to obtain, social distance is required, curfews follow one another. Mr. Joseph believes that the events and the climate generated by the pandemic have caused him to lose significant income. But that did not stop him from moving forward.
Joseph had been employed all his life, but the choice to become an entrepreneur was self-evident. “I worked in the same place for 23 years. I realized that, if I was not at the top, I had difficulty with authority,” says the man who describes himself as a free electron. For Mr. Joseph, the most important thing is to be equal to yourself. “You remain authentic, sometimes crazy in the eyes of some,” says the owner.
Some people must have thought he was crazy to embark on such a project. “When you start a business, you're sure to have failures. But I don't call it failures; it's a learning process. Sometimes, failure is essential and necessary in order to start again better,” he explains as advice to those who would like to get started. He then quotes Mandela on the subject: “I never lose. I either win or I learn.”
So Joseph had no restaurant experience. “Honestly, I really learned on the job,” he says. However, he decided to take advantage of what he knew best: customer service. This is an area that he considers to be particularly important, and where he sometimes notes shortcomings. “It's not me who does the cooking! Mr Joseph points out. I worked in a sports center. Customer service is something that I have in me, that I have experienced, that I know well.”
The service thus becomes his Modus operandi. “A customer is a human,” says Mr. Joseph. When the restaurant opened, the customers felt the need to maintain relationships. “At the beginning of the pandemic, I knew that I had a role to play, almost psychological follow-up,” he recalls. At that time, people had few opportunities to go out. It therefore lets restaurant visitors express themselves, or simply enjoy each other's presence. He also feels the effect of such a welcome. “Telling someone that we thought of him, or taking the time to say something to him, it took me out of isolation,” he says. Nearly three years later, he remains in the same spirit. “Every human being needs to be listened to. Listening is a beautiful thing. Talking is good, but listening is better.”
According to the owner, word of mouth is the reason for the restaurant's success. It is well known that the restaurant business is a difficult business in terms of turnover. “I wanted organic growth. But that's not enough, given the circumstances,” he says, wondering what to do next. Some residents of the neighborhood come on a weekly basis, others who tell him that they did not know the place when they stopped to take a look. Mr. Jackson believes that the majority of his customers are not of Haitian origin. They are also, he believes, the most difficult customers.
Little Burgundy tattooed on the heart
Jackson Joseph has lived in this neighborhood forever. His parents settled there before he was born. “I thank my parents very much for making this choice. Now, honestly, I can't see myself living anywhere else. We are close to everything. We have a gem here, like the Lachine Canal. It's a vibrant neighborhood, which is very lively,” he explains. Mr. Jackson recounts how his father, whom he describes as a visionary, saw the full potential of the place over 40 years ago. ” He told me when I was very small: “These neighborhoods are going to be overpriced. People will no longer be able to live there,” reports the entrepreneur.
These neighborhoods are Little Burgundy and its surroundings, that is to say, the neighboring neighborhoods with unclear outlines for the local population: Griffintown, Saint-Henri and Pointe-Saint-Charles, where the Burgz Cantine is located.
The restaurant's name is a tribute to Little Burgundy, which locals sometimes call “Burgundy.” Mr. Joseph had to resolve to set up his business on the other side of the Lachine Canal. “I tried everything to get a space. The reality is that, currently, in Little Burgundy, commercial rent is exorbitant,” he laments.
This neighborhood, which is historically working-class, is the cradle of jazz and Montreal's black populations. It was originally the multi-ethnic district of the city. Nowadays, Little Burgundy consists mainly of social housing. However, Notre-Dame Street, its main artery, has a large number of luxury shops. It's hard to ignore it and not be struck by the contrast when you're aware of it.
Joseph was at the forefront of the transformation of neighborhoods in South-West Montreal. “I saw the transformation, which I call “the disfiguration.” For me, it's not a nice development, it's disfiguring a neighborhood,” he says.
Even though he is far from the age of his elders, Mr. Jackson could be a dean of Little Burgundy. Before the Burgz Cantine, he worked for a long time in the community as a counsellor. “I did a lot of interventions with families and with young people,” he says. He has also coached soccer and basketball. He left his mark at the Little Burgundy Sports Center, where he was once involved in management. “I put up posters in the corridor that talk about our entire heritage,” he says.
He did the same thing at the restaurant. “What's on the walls are people from the community,” he explains, pointing to Oliver Jones and others who have made history. He does not hesitate to dive into archives and newspaper clippings to find fragments of the past and places. “And the restaurant is a wink of an eye so as not to forget our steps. We lived, we told our story. It is our responsibility to perpetuate it,” he believes. “If we don't tell the story, it's quickly forgotten with gentrification,” he said before adding that, despite everything, history cannot be erased.
He regrets the fate reserved for Little Burgundy and the hiding of its rich past: “This district deserves more attention, deserves to be known. It must have a special status.” He has the dream of carrying out a project linked to the history of the neighborhood and thus be able to make it known to the younger generations: who lived in the neighborhood? Why did we live there? And what happened there? For him, one thing is certain: “The “Harlem of the North” is still there! ” It is this heritage that he wishes to bequeath to the communities that have settled there, recently or always.
Joseph testifies to the strong sense of belonging that unites people in the neighborhood, even those who have just moved there. “One of the things that strikes me is the mutual support,” he notes.
He sees it in young people, with whom he has worked for a long time. “Young people are brought together in the schoolyard not by their skin color or ethnicity, but by their identity. It's a strong image that I have in my head,” he explains. Identity, sometimes, is a neighborhood that sees them grow. What does he want for them now? “To not do what our generation did, to be able, even at a very young age, to identify certain things and to have a plan for the next generation. To have a legacy, to transmit culture”, says Mr. Joseph. He goes on to highlight the work that young people need to do. “We don't want them to hit walls like we did. You have to prepare the ground, leave them fertile ground.”
Although he is aware of the racism that persists and the systems of discrimination, Jackson Joseph wants to open the windows of opportunities. “You have to roll up your sleeves, get along, create wealth in the community,” he lists. “I try to break down doors. There is a lot of education to do, even for people who are educated. Some people don't understand the basic principles of helping one another in a community. There are consequences of neo-colonialism,” he believes.
The neighborhood is one of Mr. Joseph's two great loves; the other is Haiti. “I cherish the dream of living there,” he said. And that love, as he says so well, no one will be able to take away from him.