18688: (hermantin)Palm Beach Post-Editorial-Life in Haiti comes full circle (fwd)

[Bob Corbett <corbetre@webster.edu>]

From: leonie hermantin <lhermantin@hotmail.com>

Life in Haiti comes full circle

By Mike Williams, Palm Beach Post-Cox News Service
Monday, February 16, 2004



ST. MARC, Haiti -- The boys stand silently on the barren slope, some kicking
at pebbles in the dust between stolen glances, while the grown-ups murmur in
hushed voices.

The gruesome sight has sucked the sound and life from this place for a
moment: a man's mangled body -- a victim of Haiti's political violence --
partially eaten by animals, sprawled in a dirt gully on the steep hillside
overlooking this port city.

"He was shot as he ran from the attackers," murmurs one of the grown-ups.
"There are other bodies nearby. Nobody comes for them because their families
ran away, afraid for their lives."

The shocking tableau may be new to the boys who tagged along when the men
took foreign visitors to view the ghastly scene and prove their claims. But,
sadly, it is nothing novel for their beleaguered country.

"It makes me scared," said Louis Ness, a handsome child of 13. "I don't know
what this means."

But others in Haiti do know.

Roused from their lives of utter poverty, thousands in recent weeks have
fled their homes in some cities, running from the political violence that
has flared like a wildfire and threatens to engulf the entire country.

Others try to go about their business as if all were normal. But behind
closed doors, they repeat the wild, bloody rumors rampant in the streets,
even while on those streets they wear masks of indifference, their tongues
locked by fear.

No, no, nods a man questioned by journalists near a row of houses -- some
containing more grotesque corpses -- burned last week when one of the
warring factions cut loose in a binge of retaliation.

"They cannot talk about these things," said a Haitian translator, warning
the reporters not to ask pointed questions. "They must keep their mouths
shut, or people will come to their houses in the night to take them away."

Haiti is on the brink of a familiar abyss, perhaps already sliding into
another dark nightmare of bloody attacks and reprisals, repeating the sad,
brutal history that has been its lot for many decades.

Preoccupied by other concerns, the international community is standing idly
by, perhaps too focused on fears of terrorism, perhaps simply reluctant to
step boldly into a mess with no tidy, quick solutions.

"I don't see it coming to an end anytime soon," said Jim Morrell of the
Haitian Democracy Project in Washington, D.C., a longtime student of the
island's woes. "These things take awhile to unfold in Haiti. I'm afraid this
will continue."

Haiti's crisis comes as the apparent bitter end to what many prayed would be
a new era of democracy and hope that began with the election of
Jean-Bertrand Aristide as president in 1990.

A Catholic priest who ministered to the poor, Aristide was hailed as a
savior by many, a fresh face in a country wracked for decades by
dictatorship and brutal repression. Ousted in a military coup in 1992, he
returned to power thanks to a U.S. military incursion in 1994.

His political party, called "Lavalas," was Haiti's first political voice for
the poor, promising jobs, social programs and hope for the estimated 80
percent of the nation's 8 million residents mired in abject poverty.

A decade later, Aristide is midway through his second term, his promises of
a new beginning for Haiti lost in a fresh wave of bickering, violence,
neglect, accusations and attacks.

Secretary of State Colin Powell told Congress last week he is disappointed
with Aristide's government but insisted "regime change" is not the way to
end the violence. Powell noted instability in Haiti 11 years ago had caused
a humanitarian crisis when tens of thousands of Haitians headed for Florida
in boats.

Aristide's opponents say the one-time priest has become little more than a
dictator himself, surrounded by corrupt allies who are robbing the national
treasury and building empires based on fear, intimidation and criminal acts.
Gangs of thugs, often shouting his praises, have taken to the streets in
recent months in his defense, harassing anti-government demonstrators,
attacking opposition politicians and burning down their homes.

"It's clear that Aristide is an outlaw and a delinquent," said Evans Paul,
an outspoken leader of the political opposition.

Aristide has denied the charges repeatedly in interviews with foreign
reporters, claiming he has no connections -- and little control -- over the
gangs. The opposition, he says, is determined to drive him from office and
snuff the fledgling democratic process that put him in office in the
nation's first free elections in decades.

But it was the most recent elections, in 2000, that served as a trigger for
the international community's withdrawal of some $500 million in badly
needed aid for Haiti. Aristide's party won several legislative seats through
fraudulent means, elections observers charged.

Aristide and the political opposition -- a fractured group with little
popular support -- have failed at several attempts to fashion a framework
for new elections, leading to the current political stalemate.

Opponents now demand he step down, while Aristide vows to remain in office
until his term ends in 2006.

Meanwhile, the violence escalates. An attack by pro-Aristide forces against
student protesters in December shocked the nation, leading to a series of
anti-government marches that have spread from the capital to the provinces.

Ten days ago, an armed group of former Aristide supporters who broke ranks
with him last fall took control of Gonaives, a large city north of
Port-au-Prince. Their actions sparked more rebellions in a handful of other
towns, where police stations were burned and officers driven away.

Aristide has decried the rebellion, but his tiny police force of less than
5,000 has been unwilling or unable to retake several of the lost towns.
Haiti's army was disbanded after the 1994 U.S. incursion, and the seesaw
battle between the forces seems likely to drag on indefinitely.

Aristide's once-strong appeal among the poor has diminished, but he still
commands the loyalty of a significant segment of the population.

Foreign aid groups and the United Nations have issued warnings that the
stalemate and anarchy in the countryside is blocking food shipments and
could soon trigger a humanitarian crisis.

But Aristide's support in the capital remains strong, and there seems little
chance that protests in Port-au-Prince could reach a critical mass that
might convince the president to step down.

Meanwhile, Haiti's poor wonder how their lives can get any worse. Many
gather around radios to hear news of the latest developments, some hopeful
of a resolution to the crisis but most resigned to fresh waves of violence
and terror.

Amazil Jean Baptiste, 44, saw the violence erupt in St. Marc last week when
police and pro-Aristide forces came to retake the town from anti-government
rebels.

"My son was shot, and when I tried to take him to the hospital, men came and
took him away," she said, standing before the burned out home of a neighbor,
her arms outstretched in a plea for help, tears rolling down her cheeks. "He
was a woodworker on his way home from work. He had nothing to do with
politics. What can I do? What can I do?"

mikew@coxnews.com

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