19140: radtimes: Dispatch: Haiti (fwd)

[Bob Corbett <corbetre@webster.edu>]

From: radtimes <resist@best.com>

Dispatch: Haiti

http://www.guerrillanews.com/human_rights/doc3966.html

by Sarah Robbins,  February 24, 2004

Despite Colin Powell's misguided enthusiasm for a diplomatic solution to
the crisis in Haiti, such a resolution may take a miracle to happen. I can
hear Lucia Newman trying to explain this to Wolf Blitzer, who can't seem to
grasp the idea that a rebellion in a country, against an unpopular leader,
is not something that can be resolved with words. Were he to spend half an
hour walking around, looking at people's faces, he would understand that a
nominal change in leadership, or even a power-sharing agreement, is not
enough. They want Aristide out. Comprende?

Around the streets of Port au Prince, there is an edgy and combative
atmosphere - which breaks out daily into brutal street battles between pro-
and anti- Aristide groups. Amongst the unarmed - there is a corporeal sense
of people waiting for the worst. They know their quality of life is
slipping through their fingers, and give the impression that hope has been
pretty much abandoned. With polarizing intensity, they feel that President
Aristide, once revered as one of them, has left them: to a hell they see
every day while walking through rubbish-filled streets. The poor have been
duped and those in charge have lost their grasp on reality.

The most glaring truth is that the economy is in ruins. At the market in
the once posh district of Petionville, I hovered over a fetid sewage pit to
talk to a woman who was trying to sell apples at a street stand. She said
it could take her from dawn to dusk to sell one - and it could take all
week to sell the case. At fifteen cents apiece, that's not much to feed
your children with. Another man complained that the economic situation of
the country was a complete disaster - he spoke in virtually perfect
soundbites: "the people have nothing to eat, the poor can't afford to send
their kids to school and they have no access to healthcare and basic
supplies," he declared, his eyes nearly bursting with anger.

And if it's not the economy that gets you, it's the daily repression. Armed
thugs allegedly linked to Aristide, called the chimeres ("ghosts") roam the
streets: attacking security guards to steal their weapons, assassinating
with impunity, terrorizing the commonfolk. And there's no one to complain
to. Opposition marches have been fairly effectively shut down since the
first day we got here, when a march we were headed for was over before it
began, the route cut off by tires set alight by supporters of Aristide. A
few days later, we joined the ranks of a renewed effort to take to the
streets, feeling for a few glorious moments the adrenaline of chanting
masses, but it was clear the numbers weren't there. Eventually the crowd
weakened, differing factions split to go different ways, and riot police
stepped in with tear gas and gunshots in the air - splintering the crowds.

The institutions are crumbling and going to see the Prime Minister, Yvon
Neptune, was like revisiting the press conferences of the Iraqi information
minister last spring. Problems, what problems? Well, more than 70 people
killed in the last few weeks, for one. The entire visit was surreal. To get
there, we negotiated a steep, gated driveway set back from the street, and
were brought to a plush waiting room with couches you could sink into and
fall asleep in. We were led into a dark room, where an official cameraman
set up alongside us. Another envoy from state sponsored radio station
clunked a tape recorder on the desk. A man in a white linen suit - whose
job I wasn't sure of - watched carefully. Another mute guard with a pistol
in his jeans also stared impassively. The most interesting insight was
Neptune's take on the U.S. - remarkably, he seems to blame the
international community for Haiti's problems. Not only since 1994, but
since the 1800s. He also launched into a tirade about how the people of
Haiti have chosen democracy - although he admits, "We do not have the means
to build democracy but we have the will." On the way out, we were given
presents - a calendar (to help mark the days until his ouster?) - and a
book about the National palace - the White House look alike, now the symbol
of a government in demise. Needless to say, one of the primary positions in
the proposed contract with the international community for transition out
of the conflict involves unseating Mr. Neptune.

When the U.S.' ambivalence towards intervention morphed into a plain old
admission by Colin Powell that "right now just isn't a good time for the
U.S. to get involved," no one was surprised. It must have been a "good
time" back in 1994, when 20,000 troops brought Aristide back to
Port-au-Prince after a coup d'etat sent him into exile. But the Americans
failed to stay long enough to make sure democracy stuck. This time, in a
further insensitive blow to ordinary Haitians, the Americans have sent in a
team of 50 marines to "guard the Embassy." They arrived in Jessica-Lynch
style drama, with certainly more cameramen than insurgents recording the
landing.

In the north, rebels are garnering more and more support from the populace.
Or perhaps they are scaring the living daylights out of them - just as the
pro-Aristide thugs did until last weekend. Before the road was cut off, we
drove up to Gonaives, the fourth largest city in the country, which has
been held by the Resistance Front rebels for almost a month now. We had to
negotiate barricades of burned and broken vehicle parts, and felt
uncertainty but a strange safety with the rebels. Everybody crowding
around, eager to tell us how much happier they were since the fall of the
city from government control. You couldn't help but appreciate their zest
for a new leadership but, casting an eye about, the total destruction of
the city and loss of productivity was overwhelming. They were enjoying a
very naïve adrenaline rush of power. A man was singing with guitar on porch
about Aristide had tried to "eat" them but they escaped. Crews patrolled
the city in back of van with doors swinging open, guns hanging out. A
bizarre vision of Mad Max or Somalia. Or both. One man showed us the ID
cards of those who had been killed - to prove they were Aristide
infiltrators, he said. We sat down with the rebel leader, Butteur Metayer,
who kicked off the interview by swigging bottle of rum for courage. "We
will lay down our arms if Aristide leaves power," he said. "We got these
guns from Aristide - to fight against the opposition. Now we use them to
get rid of Aristide." He said he would march on the capital, if necessary.
It seems closer and closer to becoming a certainty.

I can understand why trying to explain this mess to Wolf Blitzer would be
difficult. There's no easy right and wrong. The struggle in Haiti is
composed of three sides, maybe four, if you count the people trying not to
be involved. They're caught in the middle between Aristide and his gangs,
the formal political opposition (made up of bourgeois politicians and
student groups, calling themselves the Group of 184, they're a rather messy
amalgamation of political as well as social coalitions) and their thus-far
fruitless non-violent demands, and then there is Metayer's sad army, which
couldn't handle it alone - he has now reinforced himself with dissatisfied
ex-military men and heavily armed former policemen and soldiers returned
from exile in the Dominican Republic. Among these shady characters, Guy
Philippe, the former national police chief during the coup that ousted
Aristide ten years ago, and Louis Jodel Chamblain, a notorious perpetrator
of human rights violations. Chamblain belonged to the paramilitary group,
the FRAPH, which was formed by military authorities who led the country
following the 1991 coup against then-President Aristide. Before Aristide's
return in 1994, the FRAPH struck fear into the lives of ordinary Haitians
through daily violence - our translator explained that during that time
Philippe and Chamblain were household names, and not in the sense of
Coca-cola or Tide. Philippe and Chamblain have helped widen the uprising:
the rebel armies (an exaggeration in terms of strength if not in efficacy)
have taken over Cap Haitien, Haiti's second largest city. Upping the ante,
they have also become more repressive, carrying out reprisals against
suspected pro-Aristide townspeople, showing little mercy, despite protests
that they are beginning to erase the difference in methodology between
themselves and the dreaded pro-Aristide chimeres. The threat to human
rights in Haiti is scarcely less fierce from the rebels now than from their
sworn enemies.

In Port-au-Prince, among the formal opposition to Aristide, there is
sympathy for the rebels, although the meeting of minds is for one goal
only: to get the President out of power. Many have been risking their lives
for years to make this happen, although they've banked on the non-violent
path. We met with a student opposition leader in his room - where he can't
sleep any more for fear of attack from chimeres. It was a dark room painted
red, with a single bare light bulb running off a car battery illuminating a
poster of Che Guevara. I looked at him in profile while he talked and
thought warily about the risks he takes every day. Just having us there
could get him in trouble, yet he was idealistic and committed. His
girlfriend left him, he says. She couldn't take the pressure. But he's
fighting for a better future for Haiti, he feels. I find it heartening that
there are still some people who lack my cynicism.

Is it all about drugs? Hard to say. The government wants us to think so.
But then again, there are rumors that most of the instability is sponsored
by the government to make the international community take pity and help
re-instate Aristide, despite grave lack of internal support. It is true
that Haiti has become one of the major transit points between Colombia and
the Miami, at one point recently registering shipments of up to 15% of
cocaine trade to the U.S. Recent figures are hard to find. The de-facto
anti-drugs czar feels that in large part the recent uprisings reflect drug
lords frustration over recent crack downs by government after signing
international accords to improve control over the trade. But that would be
a convenient stain with which to paint the rebels.

Aristide, a former priest, rode to power on the platform of helping the
little people. He was poor, he was unknown, he had no political past - and
people loved him. He gained the support of many sectors, which felt that
Aristide could be a good transition leader as the country moved to
democracy. But he proved to be more of the kind of charismatic, despotic
leader that Latin America has known too much of. Andre Joseph, a former
teachers' union leader, supported Aristide and campaigned for him, but has
now, like many, become seriously disillusioned and has joined the
opposition to force Aristide's ouster. Andre's wife Louloune, grumbled to
me that "Haiti needed change, we thought this was the guy to do it, now we
have this disaster." Andre says the current troubles are bloodier than when
Baby Doc Duvalier fled to France. Aristide is calling the rebels "killers"
but many have killed in his name as well.

The gloomiest and most poignant bit is that Haiti could be a beautiful
place, a prime tourist destination. Sitting on the balcony of the Hotel
Montana, on the crest of a hill overlooking the whole town, I can feel the
humid air, and the cool breeze of a cloudy tropical afternoon. I can see
down to the port and the ocean and across to the ghettos on the hill. A
plume of smoke of something burning, trash maybe, rising in the distance.
There's a half finished building to the left, which reminds me of the glass
half-empty, half-full analogy - for now, I'm not sure which one Haiti is.
-----------
GNN contributor Sarah Robbins is a TV and radio producer with BBC News and
has been in Haiti covering the current crisis there.

.