17547: Lemieux: Orlando Sentinel : Turmoil in Haiti (fwd)

[Bob Corbett <corbetre@webster.edu>]

From: JD Lemieux <lxhaiti@yahoo.com>

>From Orlando Sentinel

Turmoil in Haiti
The slaying of an ex-Haiti insider deepened some Central
Floridians' fears for a home country mired in turmoil.



By Kelly Brewington
Sentinel Staff Writer

December 8, 2003

Clotilde Claudius arrived in Orlando a decade ago to join
more than 30,000 Haitians who have come here to escape
their country's political and economic chaos.

But her son, Amiot "Cubain" Metayer, stayed behind to serve
President Jean-Bertrand Aristide, leading a movement
designed to quell opposition to the president.

Over the years, the armed group known as the "Cannibal
Army" would become feared, allegations of drug trafficking
and human-rights abuses would follow, and Metayer's
relationship with Aristide would become strained.

In the end, Metayer would pay with his life. He was found
in his seaside home of Gonaives in September -- his eyes
shot out and his body disfigured. He was 42.

His killers are still at large, and rumors abound about who
is responsible. Some are blaming the president himself,
while others say Aristide's opposition is to blame.

Metayer's story is as confounding as the politics of Haiti
itself. His Orlando family has protected his memory,
asserting Metayer fought fiercely on behalf of the poor and
the disenfranchised. But human-rights groups and experts on
Haitian politics have called him a violent and dangerous
man.

Since his death, Gonaives has erupted in violence, and
elsewhere students have protested the Aristide government.
On Friday, about a dozen students were hurt by rocks and
bullets during an anti-Aristide demonstration at the
National University of Haiti.

The poorest nation in the Western Hemisphere is drowning in
debt, poverty and worsening political upheaval. And as
Haitians prepare to celebrate their 200th year of
independence from France next year, the country appears
further than ever from achieving a peaceful democracy.

Those who study Haitian politics say this latest string of
violence is symptomatic of the overarching problems in
Haiti. Groups such as the Cannibal Army -- which many view
simply as gangs -- have become the norm as Aristide's
popularity fades. And people on both ends of the political
spectrum have become caught in the ensuing violence.

Such ceaseless chaos and bloodshed are what bring so many
Haitians to the Orlando area each year. The 2000 U.S.
Census found about 30,000 people of Haitian descent living
in Central Florida, but local leaders assert the figure is
double that.

And today more than ever, Haitians fear for their families
back home.

Gonaives, especially, has been a flash point in Haitian
politics. From its very beginnings, it was known for its
outspoken residents. The Haitian flag was designed in
Gonaives during independence. And in the mid-1980s, it was
Haitians in Gonaives who spurred the loudest protest
against the repressive Duvalier family dictatorship, said
Bob Maguire, director of international affairs programs at
Trinity College in Washington, D.C.

So when Metayer was found dead several months ago, the
protests and the police's forceful, bloody response to
suppress them, were not surprising.

"This will not blow over," said Jocelyn McCalla, executive
director of the National Coalition for Haitian Rights, a
New York-based nonprofit that monitors human rights in
Haiti. "This is a sign of festering impatience with the
pace of things. These demonstrations have indicated that
people are tired and frustrated that the government has not
delivered on its promises of economic empowerment and
political freedom."

Turning point

Metayer was once a believer in Aristide's promise of a new
Haiti. In 1990, he and so many other Haitians cast ballots
for the first time in their lives to elect a president.
They thought Aristide was the nation's savior.

Metayer would become loyal to Aristide, supporting the poor
and controlling resistance in Gonaives, the fourth-largest
city in Haiti. It was a natural progression for Metayer, a
charismatic young law student from a well-known family. His
father had a decent-paying job in a salt mine and his
mother, Claudius, sold food in a local market.

Metayer seemed to excel at anything he set his mind to --
from a casual soccer match to his law studies, his family
said.

"He was a really funny man," said his sister Gertrude
Metayer, 30, who lives in Orlando. "He always wanted to
help people, and people always seemed to trust him."

Aristide's rule was rocky at first. A violent military coup
forced the president into exile just a year after being
elected.

When Aristide returned to Haiti, aided by the U.S.
military, Metayer dropped out of law school to work for
Aristide full time.

Metayer was so fierce in his support that he would show
flashes of anger at anyone who doubted Aristide's rule.
Metayer's family said he argued with critics often but
never was violent.

When much of his family fled to the United States seeking
stability, Metayer stayed behind to fight for the president
he believed in, said his brother Belanguer, 27.

"He was the one who stayed and said, 'This is not right,' "
Belanguer said. "Sometimes other people are afraid to speak
up and do something. He wasn't like that."

His family acknowledges that Metayer profited from working
for Aristide. But they said his work was solely on behalf
of the poor. While critics would call Metayer a killer and
a bully, his family says he paid for schooling for poor
children and handed out money and food to anyone who needed
it.

When Haitians went to the polls in 2000, the elections were
a disaster. Aristide resumed power amid allegations of
voter fraud. Some of his most loyal supporters began losing
trust.

Metayer was caught in the middle, his family said. Then
came what many call the turning point in Metayer's
relationship with Aristide. In July 2002, Metayer was
captured and put in jail. His family said they never were
told of the allegations against him. But Haitian
authorities accused him of being involved in political
violence and killing after a 2001 attack on the National
Palace in Port-au-Prince by Aristide opponents.

In August, Metayer supporters helped him break out of jail.
Disenchanted with Aristide, Metayer then made a break with
politics, his family said. And although he remained a
critic of the administration, calling for Aristide to be
overthrown, he did not involve himself in the Cannibal
Army's activity, his family said.

Truth is a casualty

On Sept. 22 Metayer was found dead.

"I know the government in Haiti killed my brother,"
Belanguer said. "We have to do something to bring him
justice."

But experts on Haitian politics are convinced Metayer's
story is more complicated than that.

Since 1995 gangs have grown in Haiti's urban areas. Some
began with government affiliations and were considered
popular organizations representing disenfranchised people.
But others have been known for illegal activity, from drug
activity to police corruption, said Maguire, who has
studied Haitian politics and U.S.-Haiti relations.

"Metayer was certainly a part of that," he said. "For
people in these gangs, they are poor, they have limited
opportunities and the gangs provide them with opportunities
of money and power. And in Haiti that's basically what
politics is about."

Aristide used street gangs to control the slums, he said.
But alliances shifted often, and just how gangs achieve
control is unclear, he said.

"There is a lot of speculation on this, but no one knows
the truth," Maguire said.

McCalla, with the National Coalition for Haitian Rights,
said one thing is clear: Metayer was not a modern day Robin
Hood, as followers portrayed him.

"He stole from the government in order to feed himself and
the people around him -- to feed his political base," he
said. "He did not steal from the wealthy to build roads --
he was not that kind of Robin Hood."

McCalla asserts that today, the escalating lawlessness
promoted by gangs, coupled with desperate economic
conditions, have brought Haiti to the brink of political
collapse.

"I think President Aristide is hanging on by his teeth for
power," he said.

The United Nations Development Programme said in a report
last year that "Haiti will need more than 50 years, or the
equivalent of two generations, to recover from its current
state if the process of recovery were to start now."

The U.N. agency reported Haiti's human-development ranking
dropped from 146th in the world in 2002 to 150th in 2003,
with life expectancy decreasing from 52.9 years in 2002 to
49.1 in 2003.

"In many ways the economy in Haiti is worse than it was
when [Jean-Claude] Duvalier was in office," McCalla said.
"At least then you had some meaningful foreign investment.
Today, you have a situation in which the basic structures
related to health, education and housing are a shadow of
what they were under Duvalier."

Haiti's worsening political and economic conditions are one
point that political analysts, human-rights groups and
Haitian-Americans in Central Florida agree upon. Everything
else -- the cause of the problems and their solutions -- is
open to debate. The discussions range from blaming Aristide
for being incompetent to accusing the Bush Administration
of neglecting Haiti.

In Central Florida, the debate takes place in Creole over
the AM airwaves. But recently something has changed. Those
so vehemently in support of Aristide are no longer as
vocal. It used to be that a pro-Aristide remark made around
Aristide opponents would elicit a screaming match, or even
some pushing and shoving. Not anymore, say some local
Haitians.

"Ten years ago, you would see people fighting in the street
in support of Aristide; there was this passion," said
Joseph Barthelemy, who organized Central Florida's Haitian
Community Center and now works to promote cultural
festivals. "Now people feel like he let them down. They
feel betrayed and they feel like supporting him is a waste
of time."

That is certainly true for Claudius, who upon return to
Haiti for her son's funeral, watched her home burn to the
ground by her son's foes. She is frail and emotional when
discussing her son, often becoming disengaged and will
leave the room midsentence. At the sight of a photograph of
him, she runs away crying.

"He told me before he died, he would build me a house," she
said. "Now, I'm scared. I have no reason to return to
Haiti."

Kelly Brewington can be reached at
kbrewington@orlandosentinel.com or 407-420-6186.
Copyright © 2003, Orlando Sentinel


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