Whoclef? Whatclef? Whenclef? Whereclef? Howclef? Why…? Clef? Dear Jean, Well, hello, my friend. Where do I begin? For starters, your turntables put the city underwater and put you on the level of a martyr.But my city wants more, Wyclef Jean. Voodoo is where you belong. You’re not from Jersey, the way I see. Forget about Brooklyn, from way back when. You’re not a Haitian refugee, like you said in Friday’s decree. You said you got New Orleans running through your veins.Won’t you please come back to Voodoo and bring the Carnival with you? You said you’d be gone ‘til November. The last time I heard that I can’t remember. But Election Day’s only a week away. Don’t take this the wrong way, but Wyclef, Bumaye. Forget about the jungle, you let us rumble in the swamp before my Tigers got stomped. You said no coke, no speed, no ecstasy, no LSD, not for me. But you smoke the marijuana.You undressed us with your lyrics, raising up our spirits. You made us wave it. And wave it. And wave it.And wave it.Calling out every t-shirt revolutionary, you made them think to the contrary.You made Lil’ Wayne look as lame as John McCain, then you said to vote for change. And I know I’ll cause drama by not voting for Obama. But as for the next 1600 block resident, I’ll vote Wyclef for President. Because if you were president, you’d get elected on Friday, assassinated on Saturday, buried on Sunday then back to work on Monday.We want a Carnival revival. It’s essential to our social survival. Please make it your mission to make this a tradition as a musical magician: Come back to Voodoo next year too because just one show is still, too, few!All right. I give up. Give me a break. I’m white. I can’t do it like you, Wyclef.What can I say about your performance at Voodoo Fest on Friday night that hasn’t already been said? I’ve been to plenty of live shows, and yours was one of the most memorable shows I’ve ever seen.You are perhaps the only artist alive who can create a fusion of hip-hop, Caribbean beats, funk, reggae and hard rock and turn it in to more than just noise. You coupled an eclectic style with a delivery only you can convey.The world was your stage. The audience was your canvas. And you were kind enough to let me be a part of it. But I’m afraid you’ve made me a dependant. I’ve got a new addiction, in a sense.Your performance alone transformed me into a global citizen. You sang in English, Spanish and French and brought a message of peace and festivity. Because if we could all party like you do, we’d never find the time to fight.You wished Katrina spoke French to New Orleans, so you could tell her “Please, don’t rain on my people.”You cleared your throat before you made us jump around. You made a YouTube video with a girl and a hula hoop as you sang about “the girl that make me do the hula hoop around the gym.”The son of a minister, the grandson of a Voodoo priest — you are a national treasure. You introduced me to a new landscape. You got me lost in the music.And for at least one afternoon I got to live in the Utopian States of Americlef.So I’m asking you, Wyclef, please come back soon so I can get my ticket to the next Carnival.—-Contact Daniel Lumetta at [email protected]