hope for a new year

No one can deny that the people of Haiti have had--only barely metaphorically--one hell of a year.

On this day a year ago, the country's capital and surrounding areas experienced a shaky start to the new year with an earthquake that many Haitians heralded as an apocalyptic warning. The country could hardly be said to have gotten back on its feet when, in October, the country was hit with a cholera epidemic for which it was not at all prepared and which spread rapidly to all areas of the country. In the midst of this unprecedented illness, Haiti's citizens prepared for and participated in a highly disputed and unpredictable presidential election, the results of which led to riots and roadblocks in its major cities.

On my recent trip to Haiti, I experienced, in some way at least, the repercussions of each of these major events: I saw the sprawling tent cities which, in many cases, are becoming more permanent rather than being dismantled; I worked in a cholera clinic; and I saw the lines of election posters, heard the pre-election rumors, and experienced the frustration of people stuck in the post-election roadblocks.

Throughout my journey, I experienced a gamut of emotions that I know was only a drop in the bucket compared to the emotional roller coaster that the Haitian people rode this year. But the feeling that emerged on top, somehow, was admiration.

I spent time with many Haitians of different classes and witnessed in all of them attitudes better than the ones I have on my bad days--days which, even if strung together at their worst would create a year that could not begin to compete with the year the Haitian people just experienced.

For many Haitians, their good attitude is based on hope: hope that the earthquake's destruction could be an opportunity to build a better infrastructure; hope that cholera could spur someone to promote better sanitation methods and education; hope that this election could bring about a change. Along with all these hopes, the Haitian people cling to a traditional hope--a hope in the proverbial new morning, a hope that this year will be better than the last.

political unrest

Before we left Port-au-Prince, I wrote a post about excitement and tension surrounding the then upcoming elections. I mentioned that the main feeling surrounding Haitian elections is usually uncertainty, combined with a realistic acknowledgement of the violent history of Haitian politics.


Well, the elections came and went with relatively little mass violence, but with plenty of ill-concealed fraudulence. There were wide-spread reports of stuffed ballot boxes and armed thugs "monitoring" people's votes. However, even given these reports and an outcry by most of the main candidates for a re-vote, some political leaders were calling the election fair. However, the results were not to be announced until a set period of time later (in accordance with the constitution).


The results were announced late Tuesday night--and no one was very happy about them. Including some of my fellow volunteers, who were supposed to fly home on Wednesday, but could not get to the airport because of the roadblocks on the way to Cap Haitian. It turns out that they wouldn't have made it even if they had gotten to Cap Haitian, because all flights into and out of the country were cancelled for two days. Today, however, the way was clear--at least for long enough that four volunteers made it to the airport and safely home.

Other than this, we have mostly just heard rumors about the demostrations--both peaceful and otherwise--that have been rampant in other areas of the country. In one community, a couple people were killed and a few others injured, and all the government buildings were burnt to the ground.

Our friends in Petionville said that, on the night the results were announced, they heard gunshots, sirens, and burning tires all night long. On the brighter side, we also heard that one of the main candidates held a peaceful demonstration that included hundreds of people marching down the streets of Port-au-Prince.

According to our original plans, Mom and I would have been in Petionville/Port-au-Prince right now, so we are happy to have missed the commotion. We plan to return to Port on Tuesday; we hope that things have settled down by then!

election expectations

You know how web pages detect things about you and use the information to tailor their ads toward your apparent interests, location, etc? Some people might find this considerate or helpful; Personally, I think it's creepy. However, I can't help but be fascinated by this technological phenomenon that I don't understand.

Gmail does this to me: I write an email about a race I ran--Voila! The ad bar tells me about an online running store. The longer I lived in Viet Nam, the more my ads started to appear in Vietnamese. I even had ads asking me, "Do you speak Tieng Viet?" At first I was really excited--I knew what Tieng Viet meant! Later, I hit a block in language classes and decided that the ad was trying to rub it in. Of course, sometimes even technology can be wrong, like when my ads ask, "Single and bored? Chat with Alyssa (insert picture of large-chested woman) at singleandbored.com!" Yeah, not so much...

Last night, Gmail was half-right. It told me, "Vote for Charles-Henri Baker!" I guess someone was observant enough to pick up on my location, but neglected to detect my nationality. I laughed, thinking, I just can't escape these upcoming elections, can I?

The Haitian presidential elections that are coming up the weekend of Thanksgiving are all around us here. It was actually one of the first things I noticed when we arrived. On the way home from the airport, I noticed that the street walls were plastered with campaign ads. When I mentioned them, Jean-Claude was off and running--introducing us to a few of the 19 (!) candidates (with his opinions on each, of course), and relating stories of past elections--manipulated or accurate, violent or (rarely) peaceful--and the demonstrations that went along with them.

People have rearranged trips to make sure they are in the country to vote. Even young people are interested. The other day at lunch, Jean-Claude's fifteen-year-old daughter Sophie asked everyone present who they were planning to vote for.

With 19 candidates, I don't know about all of them. But a recent poll revealed the main players, people whose names I have become familiar with over the last two weeks:

Mirlande Manigat--this female candidate was on the top. Both she and her husband have been involved in Haitian politics before.
Jude Celestin--this guy is backed by the current president and his party. Apparently, no one had heard of him until six months ago; people laugh at the interesting coincidence that he happens to be very good looking.
Michel Martelly--this guy is more commonly known as Sweet Mickey. He is a famous entertainer/musician who doesn't have any background in politics, but who was involved in various social issues even before he began his campaign.
Jean Henry Ceant--I don't know much about this guy.
Charles-Henri Baker--the guy Gmail told me I should vote for. He seems to be pretty well-respected, but he is very light-skinned, a factor that many think will go against him.

Even more interesting to me than the actual election (I must admit, I'm pretty much politically illiterate) is the anticipation about the upcoming events, and what this reveals about Haiti's history, a history that affects how Haitians--of all classes--think and live.

Elections are something you have to prepare for. I don't mean that you just have to research and decide who you are going to vote for. No, you have to plan your life around the event. When you plan for election weekend, you plan for the unexpected.

Last night, Jean-Claude and Annouck came back a little late and brought a lot of groceries. After they put them away, Annouck gave a satisfied sigh and said, "Good! I have enough to last through election weekend, so I won't have to go out."

Mom and I went out to listen to live music Saturday night, and people told us that it will be the last night it's advisable to be out until the elections are over. During the week prior to the event, no one goes out more than they have to. It is not that anything bad will necessarily happen; things could be completely quiet and peaceful. But people know the history and plan accordingly, because no one wants to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

You might say, "At least all this planning for uncertain events only lasts a short period every few years." But with so many candidates and the Haitian laws regarding elections, it is more than likely that there will have to be a re-vote. To win, a candidate must receive fifty percent of the votes plus one. In the poll I mentioned, the most anyone received was 30 percent.

And all of that is, of course, dependent on whether the election is fair or rigged--a big question in everyone's minds.

I guess it just goes to show that, even in our technological age, there are some things that even Gmail can't predict.