Get the Counter!

Scroll down and look at the sidebar of the blog, you'll notice something new: a "cholera counter."

Friends at Just Foreign Policy have created the counter to raise awareness about the cholera epidemic, and to apply pressure on the United Nations to do the right thing - accept responsibility for introducing cholera to Haiti and step up efforts to address it.

You can get the counter for your own blog or website here.

Ben learned this week from someone at Doctors Without Borders (who are currently managing the bulk of the country's cholera treatment centers) that all but one of their centers is maxed out. Today's update from the Center for Economic and Policy Research rounds up the very sobering statistics. 

Just Foreign Policy says:

"We created this counter in order to educate the public about the ongoing cholera crisis in Haiti.

Prior to October 2010, there had not been a reported incident of cholera in Haiti in over a century. Since then, over 500,000 cases have been reported, including 7,000 deaths. Scientific evidence strongly suggests that UN troops from Nepal, which was suffering from an outbreak of the disease at the time, carried cholera with them to their assignment in Haiti. Then the UN's faulty sanitation system contaminated a tributary of the Artibonite River, the longest and most important river in Haiti. Even a UN panel has conceded this point. Bill Clinton, who serves as UN Special Envoy to Haiti, has admitted that UN troops were the "proximate cause" of the epidemic, and US Ambassador to the UN Susan Rice has acknowledged that the UN played a role. Yet, the UN refuses to accept formal responsibility and it has done little to help treat, prevent, and control the disease.

A number of initiatives are underway to pressure the UN to do more in addressing Haiti's cholera crisis. The Institute for Justice and Democracy in Haiti has filed a lawsuit on behalf of 5,000 cholera victims. A Congressional letter to Ambassador Rice urges UN authorities to play a central role in addressing the epidemic. Recently, a New York Times editorial made a strong statement in support of this goal. And we have set up a petition that presses the UN to take formal responsibility.

But in order to make the pressure effective, we need to raise awareness. That's where this counter—and you—come in."

Get the counter here. And while you're at it, sign the petition.

Another Flag Day, Come and Gone

[9:30 Friday night: I was just getting ready to publish the post below when Ben rolled in from a long, nerve-wracking day covering the paramilitary march. 

Little did I know, an hour later we would both be stuck in a Haitian police station for trying to deliver insulin to an arrested American. I was allowed to go home around 1 AM, but Ben (along with two others that brought medication to the station) was detained for another 24 hours while authorities investigated suspected conspiracy with the paramilitaries. He was finally released late last night.

It was all over the news yesterday and high-level calls were placed on Ben's behalf, for which we have many journalist, activist and human rights friends to thank.  

This article provides a good general summary of what happened. 

It's been a harrowing weekend. We're exhausted and I'll be honest, a little traumatized.]

A girl watches as the displacement camp where she lives is torn down in an eviction.

Today was Fèt Drapo, Flag Day. 209 years ago today Catherine Flon stitched together the first Haitian flag in Archaie. (Hop on over to Kreyolicious for some interesting Haitian flag trivia). 

There are a lot of proud Haitians and proud-to-be-Haiti-lovers out there: "Happy Haitian Flag Day" was actually trending today on Twitter (along with #SignsUrAHoodratMother and We Will Never Let Justin [Bieber] Go).

Today was also the day that the would-be army planned to storm the city with guns a-blazing. Instead, there was a slightly more sedate parade of uniformed and lightly armed paramilitaries, a number of whom were arrested. The UN and police currently have the paramilitary base in Carrefour surrounded and we're waiting to see what happens.

(An aside: my best Flag Day ever was spent boating across Lac de Péligre in search of flamingos in 2010.)

Grace Village (Post removed temporarily)

Friends,

Yesterday I shared information about rights abuses in Grace Village camp in Carrefour, along with an action alert from Amnesty International. 

I stand by everything that I wrote, knowing that my information comes from credible first-hand sources (the camp residents themselves, along with the community activists and human rights lawyers - who are also trusted friends - that are working on their behalf).

However, the post has already generated vehement responses from individuals and organizations that are supporting Grace International, which I feel a responsibility to address thoughtfully. In the meantime, I will temporarily take down this post. To those of you that did send comments in defense of Grace International and the situation at Grace Village: I would love to have a conversation about this with you. Please email me directly through the profile on this blog.

Meanwhile, to contact Haitian authorities and demand an end to the human rights abuses that are most certainly occurring in Grace Village, you can download Amnesty's Action Alert here in English, French and Spanish.

With love,
Alexis

What's Going on with the Haitian Army?

First of all, there is no army. There are several thousand guys that want for there to be an army. Of these, a small percentage are former members of the former FAd'H (Haitian Armed Forces). The rest are new, young and largely unemployed recruits.

This unofficial paramilitary force has taken over a dozen or so former army bases around the country. They have a couple of new vehicles, they have guns, they have uniforms (traditional camouflage fare and, for the higher-ups, nylon Get Money jackets featuring Benjamin Franklin), and they are in "training."

While Martelly was campaigning for president, he talked about (and later came up with a $95 million plan for) restoring the army. Originally part of Duvalier's brutal security apparatus, FAd'H has a less-than stellar human rights record and when disbanded by President Aristide in 1995, was replaced by the Haitian National Police (PNH). International donors haven't been thrilled about the idea of funding the reinstatement of the Haitian army (given its history and the resources being pumped into beefing up the police force) and Martelly has had to retreat from this idea, at least publicly, while a government commission debates its feasibility.

Here's where it gets murky: No one knows exactly who is providing the would-be troops with those new vehicles, guns and Get Money jackets. Some think Martelly is doing some behind-the-scenes maneuvering, others believe that anti-Martelly factions within the government are, at worst, looking to instigate a coup d'etat, or, at best, make Martelly look bad. I've heard that they're being funded by Duvalier, who is raising the money from among Haiti's largest and wealthiest families, and also by a well-known drug runner who wants to see UN troops outed in favor of more corruptible local troops. Another theory is that the US government is behind it all. According to a friend, "On the one hand, the ambassador says Haiti doesn't need an army that the US is providing support to the police. Secretly, military and political high-ups are creating plans at the embassy to strengthen the army. They've already given Martelly guns for the army."

The Haitian government has demanded that the paramilitary forces disband, and voluntarily turn over their weapons. Instead, one of the paramilitary groups stormed the national palace while Martelly was in the US for surgery. Though the government has offered back pay and pensions to the former FAd'H members, most have refused, saying instead that they're willing to fight to get their jobs back.

Meanwhile, they have given the government Friday, May 18 - Haitian Flag Day - as an ultimatum: Reinstate the army... or else. Speculation as to what, if anything, will occur that day is as varied as the theories behind who may be backing them. Certainly, though, these guys talk big. They've repeatedly told journalists that that they are willing to fight to the death over this issue. 

Link Round-up:

CBC Dispatches: Haiti's Rogue Paramilitaries (Start listening around minute 18:00 for Susana Ferreira's great radio piece)

Video: Haiti's Military Mess 

Haiti Rogue Force Refuses to Disband

In Haiti, Ex-Troops' Bid for Army Threatens Stability

Haiti's Former Soldiers Demand Reinstatement of the Army

Happy Harvest

 Basil. From our garden. For pesto. Tonight.

Prestige! Award(s)!

It's no secret -- we love to tilt back a cold one. In Haiti, we have our choice of one domestically produced beer: Prestige. It's a light lager, cold & delicious on a hot day (which is every day) and costs 85 cents at the cybercafe/ barbershop across the street. And for twelve years, Prestige has made the very most of having won the 2000 World Beer Cup. See the picture above of the bottle's label (taken by Ben).

Ladies and gentlemen, this tired label is about to change. Yesterday, Prestige took home another gold at the 2012 World Beer Cup, in which 3,921 beers competed in 95 categories. To quote the Miami Herald, who quotes the president of the US Brewers Association, "It's called 'The Olympics of Beer Competition' for good reason."

Read more here: http://www.miamiherald.com/2012/05/06/2786372/world-beer-cup-winners-announced.html#storylink=cpy

Given our obligatory allegiance to Prestige, it feels a little blasphemous to post the following youtube review, but it had us howling with laughter. Choice excerpts include:

"It's from Haiti, and they've had a lot of problems over there in Haiti, so definitely probably a good thing to support them right about now."

"It says it's a World Beer Cup Winner, but probably not many beer companies competing in that one, just to be diplomatic about it." ... Yeah? Well, look who's laughing now, dude.

Sick Days

We've spent the past days nursing the vile colds bequeathed upon us by last week's inclement weather. Over the weekend, we went through more than 2 lbs of sitwon, Creole key limes, Ben let me cheat at Scrabble, and even Luna was well cared-for.

My, what shocking red rain boots you have on!

Yesterday was the first all-sunny day we've had this week. Even during rainy season, a gray day is rare in Haiti but the past week has been cold and drizzly, scattered with pummeling rains.

When I had to go out on Monday afternoon, I pulled on my sturdy boots, my rain jacket, and grabbed an umbrella -- as any practically-minded woman would do, right? Without a functional waste management system or drainage ditches, the streets in this city become rivers of nastiness when it rains.

My feet are my favorite mode of transport and, maybe I'm just oblivious, but I don't think I typically draw that much attention when I walk around. To get where I was going on Monday, I walked the equivalent of 4 blocks and counted the highest number of stares and jokes EVER, every single one directed at the fact that I was wearing rain boots. In the rain.

Here's the thing: in Haiti, city folk don't wear rain boots. Rural 'peasant' farmers wear rain boots to work in their fields. Construction workers wear rain boots on job sites (and it doesn't have to be raining). But, never ever have I seen anyone heading home from an office job thus adorned.

Social and class divisions run deep here, and the urban-rural divide is one of the most acute. Though most people living in and around Port-au-Prince have come to the city within the past thirty years or so, the social status (and norms) gained by education, a desk job or perhaps just by general city living precludes use of rain boots and other things associated with rural life and manual labor. Instead, people in the city take off their shoes -- to keep from ruining them -- and walk barefoot when it rains.

It's a good thing I've always had a rebellious streak.   

(On a far more serious note, we don't remember past year's rainy seasons beginning with so much ferocity. This week's rains have been devastating. By midweek, 9 people were drowned or killed by landslides in Haiti and 11,000 displaced by flooding in the Dominican Republic. Roads have been damaged, bridges washed out, streets are blocked up, and the situation for those still in earthquake displacement camps is beyond abysmal. Cholera is on the uptick, too.)

Coming Together for Environmental Restoration in Haiti

"The problem is that the market promotes individualism and a spirit of competition. It can’t instill the feeling of community and citizenship needed to stimulate Haitians to take part in the rehabilitation of the environment..." -- Yves-André Wainright

In honor of Earth Day, Other Worlds ran an interview with Yves-André Wainright, who discusses ways that poor governance and the role of foreign donors have contributed to the country’s environmental catastrophe. He also lays out a blueprint for what could turn the situation around, effectively mobilizing both government and the population to begin restoring the environment.

Wainright served twice as Haiti’s Minister of Environment. Trained as an agronomist, Yves-André’s work has focused on environmental management, especially management of natural resources and waste.

Read the interview here.

 "We have to start working collaboratively," says former Minister of the Environment 

Yves-André Wainright. Photo by Roberto (Bear) Guerra.

What a Circus!

Oh, Haiti. The longer we're here, the more perplexing things seem to get.

A rumor that a ti machann (merchant) selling street food in the Delmas 33 area was arrested for having killed and cooked up an 8-year old child has turned our stomachs.

But, wait... how could she have been arrested when the national police are on strike?

Wait, wait... why would the police choose to go on strike precisely when paramilitary wannabes are occupying camps around the country and just last week forced entry to the grounds of the national palace? 

Strike or no strike, at the end of the Haiti Diaspora Marathon yesterday (which was actually a half marathon with only a few diaspora), a police officer performed chest compressions and full-on mouth to mouth resuscitation on two still-breathing but collapsed runners. I imagine this was for the benefit of the TV cameras trained on him. Apparently our cop, who was outfitted in a lab coat and stethoscope, is also a doctor.  

Speaking of doctors, President Martelly has just been discharged from a Miami hospital. Word on the street is that he was cursed by black magic and plop! landed in the hospital. Word in the news is that he had a pulmonary embolism. He hasn't mentioned yet when he'll be back in country.

Meanwhile, Haiti has been without a functional government since the prime minister resigned on February 24th, and elections have yet to be organized for municipal authorities or for the 1/3 of the Senate whose terms are about to expire. 

If you told me there were elephants and zebras parading down Route Delmas right now, I would believe you (and probably just chalk it up to a Clowns Without Borders PR event).

For Earth Day

There are no unsacred places; there are only sacred places and dessecrated places.

The care of the Earth is our most ancient and most worthy, and after all our most pleasing responsibility. To cherish what remains of it and to foster its renewal is our only hope.

-- Wendell Berry

After the Earthquake, but Before the Flood

By Ben Fountain
Originally published here, in the Wall Street Journal

I arrived in Port-au-Prince last December to find my friends coughing, sniffling, hacking and struggling for breath amid the orange smog that hung over the city like a cloud of Cheetos dust. Soon Haiti would mark the second anniversary of the earthquake, and I was back to do more of what I usually do there: try to figure out why things are the way they are.

"N'ap boukiné dlo," my friend Faubert said when he picked me up at the airport. We're grilling water. In other words, amid the matrix of Haiti's macro-catastrophes, your own daily striving often seemed futile.

Faubert took me up the hill to the house of my friend Gary, an expat American who had married a Haitian woman 20 years before. The smog didn't bother Gary, his theory being that a two-packs-a-day habit had immunized him against airborne crud. Mornings we'd sit out on what was left of his small patio, drinking coffee and watching the bucket brigades in the ravine below, hauling away the rubble one pail at a time. "They're probably making about 10 bucks a day," he said of the laborers. Not starvation wages; not quite.

For regular folks it seemed hand-to-mouth as usual, but soon I became aware of something new stirring: a tidal wave of foreign capital was bearing down on Haiti's shores. The TV news was full of announcements for new beach resorts, industrial parks, luxury hotels for visiting businessmen. The song "Billionaire" by Travie McCoy was getting heavy play ("I wanna be a billionaire so [expletive] bad/Buy all of the things I never had…"). A glossy lifestyle magazine had recently launched, its sexy ads and features aimed squarely at the local One Percent.

Meanwhile, there was the problem of the 600,000 people—or was it 700,000?—still living in tents. Authorities had recently cut services to the camps in hopes that people would move out. One day at the sprawling camp across from the National Palace, a neatly dressed man with piercing hazel eyes grabbed my hand. He had something urgent to tell me, urgent! Something about the camps and Ogoun, voodoo god of iron, fire and war. Did I know? Had I heard? I listened as politely as I could while wriggling free, but not before he leaned close and vigorously rubbed his head against mine.

"I think it was voodoo," said my friend the ophthalmologist. "I think he was trying to put Ogoun in your head." Disappointingly, I didn't feel any different. The ophthalmologist and his family were still living in tents, although they did, thanks to extension cords running from their half-destroyed house, have electricity now. These days his practice consisted largely of street clinics, where he charged about $2.20 for a diagnosis.

He was skeptical about all the foreign investment. "A few people will make millions," he predicted. "Everyone else, maybe their income will go from $500 a year to $800, but their misery will increase from being surrounded by all this wealth they can never have."

 I went up into the mountains, to the farm of a beautiful woman whose work with native plants and sustainable methods showed the kind of decent life that was possible. At a gallery opening in Jacmel I met an artist who'd spent the '60s tending bar at jazz clubs in New York. He'd seen all the greats, and a lot of them—Blakey, Mingus, Roach—had made the pilgrimage to Haiti, whose music has some of the world's most complex rhythms. Back in Port-au-Prince, Gary and I resumed our morning sessions on his broken patio. The sounds of the city roiled around us. Crowing roosters, barking dogs, the scrape of shovels and saws, music blaring, traffic. We watched the bucket brigades, drank coffee and talked about our kids. Shortly after the quake Gary had sent his son and daughter to live with family in the U.S. He could barely say their names without tearing up.

One night I sat on the patio contemplating the honeycomb of cinder block houses that filled the ravine. The power went out, and a collective groan rose up. Pinpricks of flashlights appeared, then someone started a fire on an open patch of ground. By the time power was restored, a roaring bonfire was going.

Word came that lots of men in dark suits had taken up residence at the fancy Karibe Hotel. Soon the other shoe dropped: Oprah! Her visit was part of a celebrity invasion—Louis Farrakhan, Ben Stiller, one of the Kardashians. Oprah did a tour of Sean Penn's refugee camp. An evening reception feting the Ghetto Biennale artists coincided with Mr. Farrakhan's visit to a nearby mosque, creating a traffic jam that paralyzed downtown for hours.

I left one morning at 6 o'clock. Gary and I waited on his patio for my ride. Nearby, someone was hammering a piece of metal with maniacal industriousness. Gary laughed. "It doesn't matter what time it is," he said. "Wherever you are in Haiti, there's always some guy hammering on something."


Somehow Ben Fountain always manages to capture what it is about Haiti. Ben, who we met shortly after the earthquake through our neighbor Gary, has become a dear friend. His book of short stories, Brief Encounters with Che Guevara, is a favorite and his next book, Billy's Long Halftime Walk, will be published in May.