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 September
27, 2005, MIAMI – In
light of the sluggish response to the
unprecedented destruction of Hurricane Katrina,
media organizations across the globe have made
snide remarks about how one might expect such
ineptitude from Third World governments -- Haiti
in particular -- but were stupefied that such a
thing could happen here in the United States,
the world's richest and most powerful country.
Lambasting the Haitian government is
understandable, given its poor track record on
just about everything. But faced with the
daunting and complex rescue, recovery and
reparations required after Tropical Storm Jeanne
swept through Gonaives last September and killed
about 3,000 people, the Haitian government's
lack of an immediate response appears to be
linked more to a dearth of resources than
indifference. Meanwhile, the United States had
the resources to respond to Katrina yet appeared
indifferent -- or at least ill informed -- for
days after the significance of the destruction
was evident.
Touring Gonaives, Haiti's second largest city,
it's hard to tell today where the destruction of
Jeanne ends and the accumulation of decades of
neglect, mismanagement and/or abuse begin. The
same might be said for New Orleans' poorest
parishes -- those sections of town that until
last month were practically invisible. It was as
if, by ignoring the hundreds of thousands of
black parishes where people lived below the
poverty line, the government hoped they might
somehow disappear. Their houses did, but the
population's exit was punctuated with a roar
that exposed our country's shameful disregard to
the rest of the world.
Stories of the displaced
Whenever a population is marginalized, be it
First or Third World, basic human rights are
violated. The degree to which the poor in New
Orleans suffered is no less appalling than the
injustices suffered every day by the 200,000
inhabitants of Gonaives.
Because of the enormity of Katrina, stories of
the displaced will continue to make headlines
for weeks, if not months to come. While that
doesn't guarantee that there will be adequate
compensation and aid for the evacuees, there
will be some demands for accountability of
services and money spent. That has not been true
for victims of Tropical Storm Jeanne. Their
stories disappeared before they even made it to
the front page of local newspapers, though the
death toll was far greater.
To commemorate the one-year anniversary of
Haiti's inundation, a protest resembling a
funeral march meandered through the
garbage-filled streets of the seaside town on
Sept. 18. Dressed in black or white garb, men,
women and children held signs and chanted
jingles denouncing the government, which
remained characteristically, and disgracefully,
silent. It was international aid agencies,
spearheaded by CARE, that came in after the
waters subsided and removed 114,000 metric tons
of debris and mud. Through the World Health
Program, CARE distributed 2,200 tons of food and
110,000 half-liter bags of water. Convoys of
other aid trucks were ransacked by rogue gangs,
which the government was unable or unwilling to
control.
Today, the city still looks like a discarded
carcass of picked over bones, dust and sewage.
The lake that formed on the desert plane after
the waters receded is still visible from the
pocked-marked road, where eight miles an hour is
considered a fast clip. Not surprisingly, the
worst off are the ones who have always been
worst off. Just as residents in the poorer
parishes may ultimately be the last ones to
rebuild their lives here in the States, the
impoverished in Gonaives have been unable to
access the vast majority of resources that were
allegedly made available to them.
Gone with the storm
Janine Jedeus, for example, has yet to cover
the top of her tin shack -- she watched it float
away in the torrential flood as she stood atop
the tin roof of her neighbor's home where, two
days later, she delivered her 11th child. She
survives by selling sugar cane and from the
compassion of neighbors who seem to have little
more than her.
Louisno Clairvoyant lost his entire livelihood
in the storm -- about $500 worth of commercial
goods that were carried away when water raced
through his home. He received food aid of rice,
beans and oil, but he was not one of the 2,000
people receiving $400 each (according to CARE)
to restart a microenterprise. ''My government,''
he said, ``did worse than nothing because to
them, we are nothing.''
We might not be able to get it right in Haiti,
but we have a chance to get it right here. It is
up to us to make sure that the cameras stay
focused on the displaced. If we are not careful,
in just a few months time it will be business as
usual, and a year from now we may be looking
back at Katrina and wondering why, when we had
the chance, we didn't do right by the people who
most needed our help.
Kathie Klarreich is the author of Madame Dread: A Tale of
Love, Vodou, and Civil Strife in Haiti.
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