17557: (Hermantin)Sun-Sentinel-Turmoil in Haiti (fwd)

[Bob Corbett <corbetre@webster.edu>]

From: leonie hermantin <lhermantin@hotmail.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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