Aristide p2

I'll start this out by responding to a comment by one Brendan Bollman on my last entry regarding Aristide. I don't know Mr. Bollman personally, but a lot of the things he writes have been themes for me while reading and conversing about the Aristide phenomenon.

Forgive me if this gets esoteric.

First of all, I agree that it's well known that Group 184 -- which backed a lot of the protests against Aristide -- was funded by the International Republican Institute, an organization funded by US tax dollars. The leadership of Group 184 was somewhat split between two men, one of whom was calling for change within the democratic process, and another who once endorsed assasination in one candid moment. FRAPH, the group of mostly Haitian ex-soldiers that "invaded" Haiti from the DR, is not as clearly linked with the US government, but there's plenty of shadiness there too.

For me, it's telling that people like Noam Chomsky and Naomi Klein, whose opinions I value a lot, either acknowledge Aristide did go astray, or harbor suspicion that at least some of the rumors are true. Paul Farmer has not been so critical, but his support seems carefully worded, and after all he is a personal friend of Aristide. I was struck reading one passage of Mountains Beyond Mountains: it mentioned a time when Farmer was hanging out with Aristide when he was still a priest. He said something along the lines of "hey, can you believe the crazy rumors about you running for president? As if you would ever get involved in something as corrupt as Haitian politics!" Aristide dodged the question and publicly announced his candidacy a week later. Farmer has remained a loyal friend, but maybe he was on to something even then.

The strongest support for Aristide is still, as it always was, among the poorest Haitians. But that's not to say that all poor Haitians support him. On the same token there are rich and middle class Haitians who still support him. I get the sense that there are those who know he did wrong, but still support him because they detest the double standard Mr. Bollard mentioned. And there are those who support him because they personally benefited when he was in power. Two things come to mind: Port-au-Prince's worst slum, Cite Soleil, getting electricity 24-hours a day, when the rest of the city had to make do with much less; and the time Aristide bought TV sets for every house in Cite Soleil for the World Cup. A little gimicky, no? Better than the DC lobbying industry, but still.

One last thing I'll say for now, on the question of violence. I guess there's a chance that Aristide never armed any youth gangs, and was just framed. But this is beyond the level of rumor here. And when he describes himself as a pacifist, I find that a little hard to swallow. Liberation theology walks a fine line when it warns that poor people will react violently if they don't receive justice. The fine line is crossed when violence is threatened, or even encouraged. I can think of a couple examples in Aristide's book, "In the Parish of the Poor" where such threats, though very subtle, are made. He's a master of inuendo, and his speeches often contain things that can be taken a number of ways.

At the end of the day, it's absolutely true that Aristide's downfall was caused by many factors, not least the impossible double standard that is applied only to leftist and populist leaders, especially in Latin America. But that's still no excuse. He probably did blow it.

In other news, I recently finished reading 100 Years of Solitude. Yesterday felt like a scene from the book. The MCC guesthouse in Port-au-Prince has an enormous backyard that could be turned into all kinds of things. After weeks of talking about what to do there -- garden, plantain orchard, pigsty, picnic area -- we decided to do all four. And yesterday work started. Clearing brush, picking up garbage, hacking at vines with machetes, I kept thinking of how many other MCCers or other previous tenants had put hours of work into making the yard a useful space, only to watch their work diminish and disappear with time. After a few hours of raking and shoveling, with my clothes soaked in sweat, it started to rain. At first it was nice and refreshing, then it got stronger and stronger. We called it a day and Jes and I started driving up the hill to Petion-Ville.

The streets were turned to rivers. The whole city is built on a steep hill, and even where we were starting from, which is relatively uphill, the water was already flowing with a fierce strength. People trudged up the sidewalk with the water beating against their shins. Bags of garbage floated happily down the street. Children soaped up and rinsed under gutter spouts. In front of us was a tap tap, a pickup with two benches in the back and some kind of covering. The guys in the last two seats didn't quite fit under the canopy, and sat there laughing at each other as they went from wet to couldn't-possibly-be-wetter. One handed his cellphone to a dry stranger who was a little more sheltered. The whole scene was joyful, bordering on chaotic. At one point a troop of guys came jogging by, laughing and chanting in a big splash, with huge drops pounding them relentlessly. But traffic was more hectic, more desperate, with the feeling that anything could happen. One car parked on the side of the road looked like it actually might wash away.

It all made me think of Haiti as a state of ongoing disruption. In the first world, big storms are exciting. When the power is knocked out, isn't it fun to take a break from the computer or TV or whatever and fumble around for some candles? Disruptive moments like this happen all the time in Haiti. And a lot of the time it's just as fun. Sometimes it's incredibly frustrating. Seattle has plenty of bad traffic, but I don't think I've ever been forced to simply give up on my plans and turn around and go home because there are so many jams. But that's not so uncommon here. Or when insecurity is at such a level that school is canceled for fear of children being kindapped, it's equal parts snow day and 9/11. I don't mean to be trite, I just think it's interesting how disruptions can be frustrating and even terrifying, but on some level they can also be a relief. There's a strange satisfaction in scrapping your plans because you have no choice.