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27503: Hermantin(News)No election fever for S. Florida Haitians (fwd)





Lhermantin@hotmail.com
Miami Herald

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Posted on Mon, Feb. 06, 2006


HAITI ELECTIONS

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Posted on Mon, Feb. 06, 2006


HAITI ELECTIONS
No election fever for S. Florida Haitians
Disappointment is sweeping South Florida's Haitian community as its homeland heads toward elections.
BY JACQUELINE CHARLES
jcharles@MiamiHerald.com

Not that long ago, Gustave Acacia was flashing his Haitian voter ID card, boasting to friends that he planned to travel home on election day and vote for the presidential candidate he hoped might deliver the country from turmoil.

That was five long months ago. It was before the vote was delayed four times, before violence blossomed into chaos, before kidnapping turned into a virtual industry and before one of Acacia's friends was shot dead by thugs yards from a U.N. peacekeepers' checkpoint.

''For me to go to Haiti and waste my vote, it could cost me my life,'' said Acacia, a Fort Lauderdale healthcare coordinator, as he looked toward the vote Tuesday. ``It's ridiculous. I can't even talk about elections right now.''

Neither can countless others in the 245,000-strong Haitian community in South Florida, ground zero for Haiti's overseas presidential politics. There is no election fever palpable here, only frustration and disillusionment.

''There is Haiti fatigue,'' said Lavarice Gaudin, a leader of Veye Yo, a Miami-based grassroots political group that supports former President Jean-Bertrand Aristide. His ouster in 2004 sparked the current round of chaos.

LUKEWARM RESPONSE

The kind of excitement that washed over South Florida streets in 1990, when Haitians turned out in droves to give Aristide a landslide win in the country's first-ever fully democratic elections, is all but gone today. Back then, campaign signs landscaped the streets of Haitian neighborhoods, Haitians turned their homes into campaign offices and joined scores of street rallies.

Today, election talk is left to Creole-language radio, jitney rides, dinner time at home and the occasional debates in Little Haiti restaurants and convenience stores. ''Right now the response is lukewarm given the general mood of the country. The elections are not really a priority,'' said Herntz Phanord, host of an afternoon Creole talk show on 1700 AM (Planet 17). ``They have a wait-and-see attitude.''

There's frustration with the political bickering that has delayed the elections and the violence that continues, members of the community say. There's even a generalized doubt that the vote will take place on Tuesday as scheduled because of the deteriorating security.

''Right now when you talk about Haiti, everybody shakes their head,'' said Marie Florence Bell, former chairwoman of a task force created by Gov. Jeb Bush to help Floridians find ways to help Haiti. ``It's hopeless. We are starting to feel like maybe it can't be helped.''

The disillusionment is not totally a reflection of what is happening back home. The community here also feels blocked from playing important roles in the future of their country.

When Boca Raton resident Gérard Latortue was named interim prime minister after Aristide's ouster, many hoped he would sympathize with efforts to allow Haitians in South Florida to vote at the local consulate. Latortue initially endorsed the idea but then said it would be too costly and logistically impossible to arrange for these elections.

Further irking Haitians here was the Latortue government's decision to block the presidential candidacy of Texas millionaire Dumarsais Siméus. The government said the constitution bars Siméus, a U.S. citizen, from holding dual citizenship. But many saw it as a snub of expatriates.

As in Haiti, the community in South Florida is politically divided along class and color lines, although there are increasingly more shades of gray as it becomes more assimilated and its economic status rises.

Supporters of Aristide, a former slum priest elected in 1990 and again in 2000, still wield considerable influence among the bulk of those who arrived here as refugees and still closely identify with the struggles of Haiti's poor.

Although Aristide's Lavalas Family Party is officially boycotting the elections, former president and Aristide protégée René Préval is the front-running candidate with strong support among grassroots Aristide supporters. Préval has tried to distance himself from Aristide, and has not officially run a campaign in South Florida. But Aristide supporters believe he is their ticket back into power.

''I believe that he would be a good thing for Haiti if he could be in charge,'' said Lavalas spokesman Jonas Petit, who splits his time between Ft. Lauderdale and New Jersey. ``Our hope is that the political and social environment can be more tolerant and would let . . . Lavalas act as a political party.''

ACTIVIST ENDORSEMENT

Former Miami-based Haitian rights activist Gérard Jean-Juste, who just months ago criticized the elections, changed his tune after polls showed Préval leading the pack of candidates and urged Haitians to vote. Jean-Juste, jailed until last week by the Latortue government, plans to annouce his endorsement of Préval today in Miami, two days after announcing it on the airwaves in Haiti.

''Things will change for the better in Haiti,'' he said after arriving in Miami for cancer treatment.

On the other side of the political fence, South Florida supporters of candidate Charles Henri Baker, most of them members of the business class or professionals, have been telephoning and e-mailing expatriates here and in Canada to urge them, to call home and encourage relatives and friends to vote for Baker.

Early in the campaign, Baker attracted a lot support during a three-day tour of South Florida. In October, more than 300 people showed up at one of several events that have helped the businessman raise $1.4 million for his campaign.

But what began with standing-room crowds soon dwindled as the election was delayed again and again and plans for other fundraisers were zapped. A week ago, less than 150 people attended a fundraiser at a Coral Gables art gallery on behalf of Baker, running second to Préval in most polls.

Other presidential candidates who have made campaign visits to South Florida include Serge Gilles, Rigaud Duplan, Paul Denis, Evans Paul and Chavannes Jeune.

Still, Haitians in South Florida can't completely remove themselves from what is happening in their homeland, and on a recent afternoon at a Little Haiti beauty supply shop the talk turn to elections.

Patrons couldn't agree which former president, Préval or Leslie Manigat, would be the best new president for the country but agreed that life had not improved in the two years since Aristide's ouster.

''The country is worse,'' said Enold Alcegaire, 38, adding that guns had now replaced machetes as the instrument of violence around his hometown near Jeremie, about 150 miles west of the capital Port-au-Prince.

''People are dying,'' said hairdresser Elsie Mayant, 37. ``Even if they sent me back to Haiti, I would not go.''

Still she, like countless Haitians living abroad, yearns to return home; not to the Haiti of today, but the Haiti of yesterday when the streets were safe and the word kidnapping wasn't part of the Creole vocabulary. ''I would love a beautiful change for Haiti,'' she said.



Disappointment is sweeping South Florida's Haitian community as its homeland heads toward elections.
BY JACQUELINE CHARLES
jcharles@MiamiHerald.com

Not that long ago, Gustave Acacia was flashing his Haitian voter ID card, boasting to friends that he planned to travel home on election day and vote for the presidential candidate he hoped might deliver the country from turmoil.

That was five long months ago. It was before the vote was delayed four times, before violence blossomed into chaos, before kidnapping turned into a virtual industry and before one of Acacia's friends was shot dead by thugs yards from a U.N. peacekeepers' checkpoint.

''For me to go to Haiti and waste my vote, it could cost me my life,'' said Acacia, a Fort Lauderdale healthcare coordinator, as he looked toward the vote Tuesday. ``It's ridiculous. I can't even talk about elections right now.''

Neither can countless others in the 245,000-strong Haitian community in South Florida, ground zero for Haiti's overseas presidential politics. There is no election fever palpable here, only frustration and disillusionment.

''There is Haiti fatigue,'' said Lavarice Gaudin, a leader of Veye Yo, a Miami-based grassroots political group that supports former President Jean-Bertrand Aristide. His ouster in 2004 sparked the current round of chaos.

LUKEWARM RESPONSE

The kind of excitement that washed over South Florida streets in 1990, when Haitians turned out in droves to give Aristide a landslide win in the country's first-ever fully democratic elections, is all but gone today. Back then, campaign signs landscaped the streets of Haitian neighborhoods, Haitians turned their homes into campaign offices and joined scores of street rallies.

Today, election talk is left to Creole-language radio, jitney rides, dinner time at home and the occasional debates in Little Haiti restaurants and convenience stores. ''Right now the response is lukewarm given the general mood of the country. The elections are not really a priority,'' said Herntz Phanord, host of an afternoon Creole talk show on 1700 AM (Planet 17). ``They have a wait-and-see attitude.''

There's frustration with the political bickering that has delayed the elections and the violence that continues, members of the community say. There's even a generalized doubt that the vote will take place on Tuesday as scheduled because of the deteriorating security.

''Right now when you talk about Haiti, everybody shakes their head,'' said Marie Florence Bell, former chairwoman of a task force created by Gov. Jeb Bush to help Floridians find ways to help Haiti. ``It's hopeless. We are starting to feel like maybe it can't be helped.''

The disillusionment is not totally a reflection of what is happening back home. The community here also feels blocked from playing important roles in the future of their country.

When Boca Raton resident Gérard Latortue was named interim prime minister after Aristide's ouster, many hoped he would sympathize with efforts to allow Haitians in South Florida to vote at the local consulate. Latortue initially endorsed the idea but then said it would be too costly and logistically impossible to arrange for these elections.

Further irking Haitians here was the Latortue government's decision to block the presidential candidacy of Texas millionaire Dumarsais Siméus. The government said the constitution bars Siméus, a U.S. citizen, from holding dual citizenship. But many saw it as a snub of expatriates.

As in Haiti, the community in South Florida is politically divided along class and color lines, although there are increasingly more shades of gray as it becomes more assimilated and its economic status rises.

Supporters of Aristide, a former slum priest elected in 1990 and again in 2000, still wield considerable influence among the bulk of those who arrived here as refugees and still closely identify with the struggles of Haiti's poor.

Although Aristide's Lavalas Family Party is officially boycotting the elections, former president and Aristide protégée René Préval is the front-running candidate with strong support among grassroots Aristide supporters. Préval has tried to distance himself from Aristide, and has not officially run a campaign in South Florida. But Aristide supporters believe he is their ticket back into power.

''I believe that he would be a good thing for Haiti if he could be in charge,'' said Lavalas spokesman Jonas Petit, who splits his time between Ft. Lauderdale and New Jersey. ``Our hope is that the political and social environment can be more tolerant and would let . . . Lavalas act as a political party.''

ACTIVIST ENDORSEMENT

Former Miami-based Haitian rights activist Gérard Jean-Juste, who just months ago criticized the elections, changed his tune after polls showed Préval leading the pack of candidates and urged Haitians to vote. Jean-Juste, jailed until last week by the Latortue government, plans to annouce his endorsement of Préval today in Miami, two days after announcing it on the airwaves in Haiti.

''Things will change for the better in Haiti,'' he said after arriving in Miami for cancer treatment.

On the other side of the political fence, South Florida supporters of candidate Charles Henri Baker, most of them members of the business class or professionals, have been telephoning and e-mailing expatriates here and in Canada to urge them, to call home and encourage relatives and friends to vote for Baker.

Early in the campaign, Baker attracted a lot support during a three-day tour of South Florida. In October, more than 300 people showed up at one of several events that have helped the businessman raise $1.4 million for his campaign.

But what began with standing-room crowds soon dwindled as the election was delayed again and again and plans for other fundraisers were zapped. A week ago, less than 150 people attended a fundraiser at a Coral Gables art gallery on behalf of Baker, running second to Préval in most polls.

Other presidential candidates who have made campaign visits to South Florida include Serge Gilles, Rigaud Duplan, Paul Denis, Evans Paul and Chavannes Jeune.

Still, Haitians in South Florida can't completely remove themselves from what is happening in their homeland, and on a recent afternoon at a Little Haiti beauty supply shop the talk turn to elections.

Patrons couldn't agree which former president, Préval or Leslie Manigat, would be the best new president for the country but agreed that life had not improved in the two years since Aristide's ouster.

''The country is worse,'' said Enold Alcegaire, 38, adding that guns had now replaced machetes as the instrument of violence around his hometown near Jeremie, about 150 miles west of the capital Port-au-Prince.

''People are dying,'' said hairdresser Elsie Mayant, 37. ``Even if they sent me back to Haiti, I would not go.''

Still she, like countless Haitians living abroad, yearns to return home; not to the Haiti of today, but the Haiti of yesterday when the streets were safe and the word kidnapping wasn't part of the Creole vocabulary. ''I would love a beautiful change for Haiti,'' she said.