Viktim

[bcholmes]

Urk. I've managed to get behind in my blogging. Bad BC. No biscuit.

Saturday morning, we went back to Mario's office to finally get to hear Mario, himself, talk.

Mario Joseph is the primary force behind the Bureau des Avocats Internationaux. Before he arrived, Kevin and I were talking about Lovinsky and, once again, I learned new things. Kevin made the point that although some people have been kidnapped and murdered, Lovinsky is the only case that we can think of in which a Haitian was kidnapped and completely disappeared.

Shortly after Lovinsky disappeared, another prominent Lavalas member was kidnapped, but returned after a ransom was paid. For my part, I've never known what to make of that. Did the kidnappers get scared off because he was all over the news? Did the kidnappers know that the police were involved? Some people have asserted that the kidnapping is a ruse -- that the plan was always to make Lovinsky disappear, but to make it look like a kidnapping that went sour. For my part, that second kidnapping has always nagged at me, made me think that we had a chance to get him back but lost it somehow. Kevin's point has made me doubt that once again.

Kevin also knew a few more things that I didn't know. Apparently one of the calls that the kidnappers made to Lovinsky's family was relayed through a cell tower in Leogann. That's halfway to Jakmel. Quite some distance from where we're always assumed that Lovinsky was held: Site Soley. Did the kidnappers go there specifically to make a phone call? Or was Lovinsky there as well? So many questions.

Mario arrived after that, and gave us a fiery speech. He covered a lot of the ground that others covered but was able to speak more clearly about some of the ways in which the elections council worked. Apparently, nine sectors of the public provide delegates to comprise the electoral council. These include the ecclesiastic community, the journalists, the unions, etc. Préval asked each group to nominate two candidates, from which he had final pick. This process isn't quite in synch with the Haitian Constitution, but recall that this is a Provisional Elections Council -- that it's been provisional for three elections now is immaterial.

There's another (relatively minor) oddity in the process. Préval finagled the system to ensure that his party is in the number one slot on the ballot. In a country where a lot of people can't read, the ballots need special aids -- numbers, etc. -- to ensure that people can figure out what party they're voting for. There's supposed to be a random process to assign party numbers for the ballot, but Préval wanted the number one slot. It's a minor point, but it's had the effect of making a number of parties hugely distrustful that Préval is playing fair.

After lunch, we decided to head up to Bel Air to meet with some activists, there. At one point, while waiting, we could see this great view of the palace, looking down the road from a slightly higher vantage point. The contrast between the dull grey buildings and white palace makes for an interesting juxtaposition, I think.

The people we wanted to talk to weren't around, but Kevin knew a number of people in the neighbourhood who had been injured by MINUSTAH shooting.

I took this photo while standing in a shared 'yard'. The area was about seven feet by three feet. An older woman was cooking her dinner over a small flame in one part. the entrances to three residences opened up into the space. We were visiting a man who'd lost the use of his legs in a MINUSTAH raid. As he tells the story, he was afraid to run away from the MINUSTAH soldiers, and lay down on the ground with his hands above his head. One of the MINUSTAH soldiers deliberately shot him. We could see the scars on his neck. Spine damage paralyzed his legs. He lives in a one-room residence, about six and a half feet by three and a half feet. It's made of steel sheetings, pieces of wood, and wallpapered with cardboard boxes.

I couldn't bring myself to photograph any of this. Instead, I saw this one concrete building, sticking up above the surrounding dwellings, and photographed that instead.

My Lonely Planet guide often talks about how nobody likes foreigners gawking at the misery of poverty. To photograph some of this stuff feels like it would rob people of their dignity. But what do I know?

Other people we spoke to had similar stories. Wounded by MINUSTAH. No viable access to recompense.

When I was coming down here for my delegation in 2007, I was half-looking for people that might be some of the people I'd meet up with. By coincidence, another blan was seated next to me, so I asked him what he was headed to Haiti for. He said that he worked for MINUSTAH. You know those moments where you're pretty sure that you're not going to get along with a person?

Anyway, he told me he worked in a section that processed claims by the Haitian people. If someone suffered damages from MINUSTAH, they could file a claim, and he'd vet it.

"Are the claims generally believed?" I asked.

He rolled his eyes, and cocked his head and said, "well... that's the thing." His body language spoke volumes. What he was saying was that the Haitians weren't credible. I actively tried to get out of the conversation at that point.

I found myself thinking about this conversation in Bel Air.

Later in the afternoon, we had a visit from Fondasyon Trant Septamn, Lovinsky's organization. Fondasyon Trant Septamn -- the September 30th Foundation -- is named for the 1991 coup against Aristide on September 30th, 1991. The organization lobbied for justice for victims of that coup and the brutal regime that existed in the post-coup years. Here was a group of people angry, still, two years later that neither the Haitian government nor the international community has made any public statement about Lovinsky's disappearance. They looked at us to continue to call on our governments to do something about this.

I don't even know where to begin talking about this. Just the facts, ma'am.

The group's current leader, Wilson Mesilien, has himself been threatened. He was followed from Fr. Jean-Juste's triel by an armed man on a motorcycle. His partner received mock 'we've kidnapped Wilson' calls. He's received death threats. There were Amnesty International alerts that were promptly ignored by people everywhere.

We had other guests: Rene Civil, an important activist. And Loulou came to tell us his side of the story we heard the other day. It was a very long day, and I was glad when it ended. Our translator seemed pretty tired by the end of the day.