Lives on Hold

By J.F.O. McAllister/Washington

Bill Clinton's Inauguration Day was much like any other in Haiti, full of hunger, fear, gunfire and, most of all, uncertainty about the future. In the slums of Port-au-Prince, there were high hopes for "the democrat Clinton" with a small d. Deep in a warren of concrete hovels without running water or sanitation, a voodoo priest sat beneath the corrugated tin roof of his temple. The people of his neighborhood, he said, had supported Clinton despite reprisals from the army that rules the country. "A lot of people were beaten up here because we believed in Clinton, and the Haitian authorities wanted Bush re-elected," he said. "We couldn't talk about Clinton, but we believed. We still believe."

Virtually none of the Haitian boat people brought back by the U.S. Coast Guard that day had even heard of Clinton, much less his decision to continue Bush's policy of returning boat people by force, without checking if any were fleeing persecution by the thugs who run Haiti. Batteries for radios are hard to come by in the countryside where these people had lived. Elias Volcaire, a 24-year-old farmer from St. Marc, just stared blankly when asked if he was angry at Clinton's change of policy. "Clinton? Who's that?" he asked. Only one of the returnees seemed to know. "Before he was President, Clinton said he wasn't going to turn us back," he said. "But I can't be mad. That's life." A priest outside the capital was not so resigned. "We don't know what Clinton stands for," he said. "It's unbelievable that he changed his mind about the refugees."

Hundreds of boats -- some still unfinished -- that were reportedly being readied to transport thousands of refugees to the U.S. after Jan. 20 stood idle at docks all over the island last week as Haitians tried to figure out what to do. A barricade of 17 U.S. Coast Guard cutters and five Navy ships offshore has temporarily halted the threatened exodus inspired by Clinton's campaign promise to ease asylum rules. When Haitians took his election victory as a guarantee of Uncle Sam's embrace and began to build more boats, Clinton quickly announced he would follow Bush's policy of forced return "for the time being."

The Clinton team has sought to dampen expectations in Haiti while it works out a new policy. To soften criticism that the U.S. was violating international law by forcing refugees back into the arms of their persecutors -- a practice candidate Clinton had denounced as "a blow to America's moral authority in defending the rights of refugees" -- the new Administration said it would open up new refugee-processing centers around the country. But Clinton recognizes that no mere modifications of asylum rules, however humanely intended, can permanently stop the wave of immigrants to U.S. shores. It is much harder -- and much more essential -- to improve the basic economic and political conditions in Haiti that cause its citizens to flee.

Many Haitians are hungry for quicker solutions. Rumors persist in Port-au- Prince that the American ships offshore harbor U.S. Marines who could land, just as they did in 1915 to restore stability and protect American investments following racial clashes between the country's mulatto and black citizens. Forgetting that the subsequent occupation lasted 19 years -- and was not always a happy one -- Haitian nationalists whisper that U.S. intervention may be the only answer. "You have to impose a solution. You can't negotiate," says one, who never thought he would welcome U.S. troops.

Such a prospect is unlikely. Clinton and most people in Haiti are pinning their hopes on a political settlement that will make Haitians want to stay home. For the first time since last February, diplomats are finding signs of life in the talks the U.N. and the Organization of American States are sponsoring in an effort to restore democracy and reinstate Jean-Bertrand Aristide, the democratically elected President who was ousted in a September 1991 coup.

As a first step, Lieut. General Raoul Cedras, leader of the armed forces, and his Prime Minister Marc Bazin have agreed to accept up to 400 international observers who are supposed to deter human rights violations and create a climate for free political activity. The first batch is slated to arrive in Port-au-Prince early next week. Negotiators hope this will eventually lead to a pardon of the coup plotters, a new Prime Minister agreed upon by Cedras and Aristide, and an end to the trade embargo that has crippled an already weak economy. At this point the sanctions are punishing the poor while sustaining the rich monopolists who conspired with the army to get rid of the populist Aristide.

What really matters to most Haitians is Aristide's return. Many of those who are building boats to flee say they will stay home if he comes back, as he urged them in a special Creole broadcast on Voice of America. "The people will not leave now," said a Haitian man in the slum of Cite Boston. "We are waiting for him -- for Aristide." While conceding that he was not the perfect President, Haitians like the priest in the town of Jeremite say "restoring Aristide to power is restoring the democratic process." The exiled President, however, has been less popular in Washington, where Bush officials thought him too radical and mercurial to do business with. They often alluded to the inflammatory rhetoric, poor command and crime under his administration.

The plan being brokered by U.N. and OAS envoy Dante Caputo is far from completion, and Aristide's return is months away -- if ever. Many suspect the military is only playing along to get the international community off its back. Hard-liners within the army, furious at the prospect of international monitors, tried to mount a coup two weeks ago, and a group of young soldiers at the Freres army camp outside Port-au-Prince mutinied on Jan. 20. The 8,400- man army is dangerously riven: its rank and file fear that its leaders will cut and run into comfortable exile, leaving subordinates to face the people's anger. Aristide too suspects the army is bargaining in bad faith, but he is cooperating because there is no other way to rope the Clinton Administration into supporting his cause.

The chances of a peaceful transition to civilian rule under Aristide are slim. A similar peace plan collapsed a year ago after all sides had signed on. So far, the international observers have secured only $1 million in funds, enough to support 50 people for three months.

That will not do much to help the thousands of poor Haitians who live in fear and oppression. The current 16-member OAS monitoring team has been bottled up in the capital since September: they have no credentials, no cars and no permission to venture into the countryside. When people seeking asylum venture into the U.S. center for processing refugees in Port-au-Prince, they can see the army headquarters just two blocks away. Some are risking their life by even crossing the threshold. When they leave, informers loitering downstairs -- some posing as money changers -- are waiting to report their names to the police.

Aristide supporter Pierre Fequiere, 29, was one of the lucky ones who won the right to seek asylum in the U.S. Arrested after the 1991 coup, he was bound with a cord around his neck and marched off to jail. He lost two teeth when an officer hit him with the butt of a gun. Released provisionally, he fled into the wilderness like the slaves of old. When he returned home, the police tried to gun him down. Days before he got his exit visa to the U.S., soldiers stopped him and kicked him. "If Aristide comes back," he says, "I will return. People aren't leaving Haiti because of food. We leave because they beat us."

Stories like these will force the Clinton Administration to put Haiti near the top of its agenda. "The situation is being radicalized," says a young Haitian activist. "If these negotiations are another farce, God save us. The people will take to the streets." The Clinton team is probably safe from a crisis as long as Haitians believe Aristide might really be restored to power. But if he isn't, Haitian eyes will soon turn again toward the U.S. Leaning on a car door to listen to the new President's Inaugural Address on the radio, 10-year-old Reynold looked happy. What did he want from Clinton? He replied, "I want him to come and get me in Haiti."

With reporting by Cathy Booth and Bernard Diederich/Port-au-Prince