the evictions

Having adopted a subtitle for this blog earlier, "random contributions to the better understanding of Haiti in the aftermath of an earthquake" (or should I say: the earthquake), I should perhaps get back to business again, after some recent digressions.

The most pressing issue here at the moment is forced evictions. There have been several instances where IDPs (remember? Internally Displaced People, the people in the camps) have been evicted from the areas where they had set up their tents and tarpaulins. Of course this is totally unacceptable, people have nowhere else to go, and they do have some rights (although, interestingly, IDPs don't not many, under international legislation). But look further, and the issue becomes quite complex, as with so many issues that we have to deal with.


Take the schools: the government has decreed that schools must open again on 5 April, and many did, or did in the weeks thereafter. But many of the large schools have large school yards, too, and as with every piece of free space in Port-au-Prince, this has been occupied by IDPs. There is certainly a case to be made in favour of children that need education, as otherwise they may not pass their exams at the end of the schoolyear (which in any case has been extended to mid August, to make up for lost time). Children have no doubt: they have taken to the streets to demand the removal of IDPs and re-opening of their schools, and even demonstrated in front of the Ministry of Education last week (how they do that I don't know exactly, as the Ministry has been totally destroyed by the earthquake, and has since been cleared of rubble, there is nothing left).


More dubious are the claims of municipalities that life has to return to normal, and that thus the municipal football pitches need to be evacuated, the football season is about to start again. Stadiums are popular camp places, as you may have seen from previous installments, and are public land. Perhaps we need to accept that we skip a season, we as humanitarian community are definitely advocating for that. In any case, compensation is underway in the form of the Worldcup, coming summer, an event that transforms this country. And then there is the case of private land owners, who have land that normally yields an economic return, but is now unusable. They surely have rights. As far as I am concerned, and I voice that frequently, we - the government, donors - should reimburse the land owner for the use of his land as temporary shelter camp for IDPs, it cannot be difficult to establish a fair price. Or is it? There are also land owners who keep land for speculative purposes, yet others have a claim to the title of the land which is not entirely clear, or contested. Do we reimburse these people? Who do we reimburse?


You see, things are never clear-cut. For the time being we have achieved a moratorium on forced evictions, verbally agreed by the president - but not yet formally published. This means that, in principle, the police cannot be used anymore for evictions from private land. Of course, anybody can just hire a gang to do the job, and even if this was against the moratorium, what are you going to do if you have just been thrown out of the camp where you have lived with everything you have, for the last thee months. Are you going to go back? Are you going to protest? Where do you seek justice? We are now pushing for this to be clarified, but chances are that by the time we have everything in place, the two months may be over. Better to start thinking about solutions, like let's inventorise the school problem, let's develop options for the people that have to move - give them a package, offer relocation to Corail, the site near Cabaret that I have written about before -, and let's make moving away from the camps attractive by offering services in their neighbourhoods, to encourage them to return, at least for the 50% or so whose houses are still OK. Better to start thinking ahead of the challenges that are still to come, and define timely responses, well before we are confronted with the need for emergency measures.



(1) demonstration of school children demanding their school back, and (2) I happen to run into this demonstration whilst showing a BBC Panorama crew around; they loved it, of course!

(3, 4) clearly, the stadiums in Petionville and in Leogane - note the stands at the back, stands since the seats have been removed for one of our child-friendly spaces - are still occupied, no chance of a football match here soon; imagine what the pitch looks like - but then, that may not have been much different before.

the break-in

Not in our house, don't worry.

As you know, I share the apartment with Johnny, our Lebanese security adviser. When we were having dinner this evening, he received a call from one of our colleagues living in Petionville, further down the hill from us, that they thought there was somebody in the house, and they also heard footsteps on the roof. Sensibly, they had locked themselves in the bedroom, behind a metal grill, but what to do next?

So Johnny and I jumped in the car (never mind that I had just had four rum-punches celebrating the Dutch Queen's birthday - even in Haiti we have a large enough Dutch community for the national anthem) and rushed down the hill to the house of our colleagues. On the way, Johnny called the police, the UN emegency number and our own security company. When we reached the house - obviously we were the first ones - we passed once, observing, then drove around and approached again, stopping in front of the gate. Johnny knew what he was doing (I didn't), he must have done this before. We found the guards, who knew something was amiss and thus tried to stay as far away as possible, at the gate to the property; a few minutes later the security company arrived, with more guards, who also congregated around the gate. Then the UN police arrived, with no less than two batallions of MINUSTAH troops. They also congregated around the gate, but nothing happened, really. A few flash lights were shone onto the roof, and inside. We called the people inside, they were still holed up in the bedroom, but now more concerened because they thought they had seen a flashlight inside - the connection with us shining lights through the window was, understandably, not made; how could they have known? Finally the PNH, the Police National d'Haiti arrived too, in combat outfit - but they always wear combat outfit, even if they regulate the traffic, so that doesn't mean much. And then, somehow without anybody noticing in the pandemonium, they left again, so that when the troops finally - this is now some 20 minutes later - decided that they should enter the compound, they couldn't, because they have no mandate to operate without the PNH. In the mean time the landlord, who lives next door, had also appeared on the scene, with a massive shotgun, and 20 bullets stuck in a belt around his waist. Really! Rambo, only a little older. He congregated around the gate, too, occasionally threatening to shoot, but mostly with his huge gun pointing to the sky, in one arm. Still, nothing happened.

And then everything changed. Another UN car pulled up, and two huge black policemen got out. They wanted to talk to the people in the house (and it transpired later that they questioned them on the lay-out, where they were, their situation etc.), then they wanted to talk to the MINUSTAH commander, a Jordanian who didn't speak French neither English - at these moments it helps if you have a Lebanese security guy who also speaks Arabic! They took full control, gave orders, and everybody listened. They called once again for the PNH - who miraculously showed up again, immediately. Then they went inside, accompanid by PNH and guards. I am not sure how the situation played out afterwards - I was watching from the back, to be sure - but a few minutes later they had been around the house, on to the roof, and also inside - whilst the door had been locked, and they didn't have keys: interesting. And then they arrested a guy, outside, whether the intruder or somebody in the wrong place at the wrong time, we will never know - but they probably got the right guy. And he was lucky; I think that if the landlord had gotten to him first, he would not have survived. Our colleagues got out of the house, and then the whole thing was over, five minutes after these two policemen arrived. Americans, as it later turned out, but boy, were they professional! Very impressive!

I wrote in one of the comments on a previous blog that my main security concern was the random, or targeted, break-in, in my own house. Having seen this, I am a lot more comfortable, there is in fact an extremely efficient force to deal with these things, and they are accessible. And, as so often, cocktail party talk for years to come!!

the bad day

I am writing this on a piece of paper.

It has been one of those days. The outlook was already not good. I had to sack somebody in Leogane, and give somebody else a warning letter, never a nice thing to do. Then I needed to continue to Jacmel to discuss various projects and demands to which I was almost certainly going to say no. How to make yourself really popular in one day.

We left really early from Port-au-Prince this morning, to avoid the rush hour. Yet, even before 7 am we were well and truly stuck in traffic in Martissart, one of the slum suburbs south of town. We thus arrived late in Leogane, where I conducted my unpleasant business - even more unpleasant because the warning letter was related to breaches of security measures to which I personally have some doubts about their needs. There was no coffee in Leogane.

On to Jacmel, where we also arrived late, but still unexpectedly early, as the local field director had misunderstood my email, a euphemism for not having read it well. Somewhere between Leogane and Jacmel my Blackberry packed up, or perhaps somebody just forgot to pay the bills: I cannot get it to work anymore.

The field visit was totally unprepared, none of the technical staff that could have made such visit interesting was notified, and thus they were unavailable - in fact, many have not been recruited yet. The project I wanted to question - cancel, really - had already advanced much more than I had expected, based of far more miscommunication - non-communication, rather - than I had ever thought possible.

When I finally got to the hotel it turned out that I would have the share the room - a closet in which one person could hardly breath - with a colleague; I just about didn't have to share the bed. In the end we did manage to find another room for him. I then had a shower, only to discover that there were no towels in the bathroom - after I had had the shower. The restaurant had a menu that listed well over 20 dishes, of which only three were available, all fried, and served by possibly the most un-Haitian Haitian waitress I have ever seen, throroughly unfriendly. That somebody can be so miserable! Back in my room, doing emails, I found that my computer battery was almost empty, and when I wanted to plug in the power cable, I discovered that the Ozana Hotel (really!) in Jacmel is probably one of the very few hotels in Haiti that uses, for no apparent reason, European sockets instead of the American type.

Which is why I am writing this on a piece of paper.

the apartment (2)

Things have changed somewhat, since I last wrote about my living conditions.

Firstly, my flatmates changed. Shortly after I wrote about my apartment, way back then, I got an American colleague to stay. At the same time, Save the Children was promoting a wellness program for its staff, from openly talking about your traumas to dealing with excessive workload and stress. From here it was just a small step to developing our personal wellness program, complete with copious quantities of wellness consumables. This was also the time that we were a male-only crowd, which became instantly visible in having the pans on the table, instead of proper serving dishes. Men are just so much more pragmatic. Luckily, we then had, for a brief spell, a female colleague, whose main contribution, in terms of wellness, was the reintroduction of avocados, and guacamole. An excellent combination with some of the other wellness consumables, it must be said. Then, with further staff changes, our security adviser came to live in the apartment, a friendly fellow from Lebanon. The wellness program was immediately dropped, and replaced by a daily survival package, incidentally with a conspicuously similar contents in terms of consumables. I wonder who is next. (We also have, temporarily, another colleague at the house, but he is a bit of a hermit, locks himself in his room for most of the time).

Another change is that Legrand, our domestic cleaning helper, has left. I never understood why he had to clean under the breakfast table every day whilst we were having breakfast, as in theory he had the whole rest of the day to do so, no? Right! He has been shipped off to another house we opened, which created a place for Fleurissant, the guy who used to work for us 10 years ago, and who I found back by accident. The world is small, indeed. Not Fleurissant, he has grown a lot fatter, but for the rest he hasn't changed much, he came 20 minutes late on his first day of work, and is just as lazy as he always was. At least he doesn't clean under the breakfast table whilst we are having breakfast. But he is good fun, an he deserves another chance. On the positive side, after I told him off on his first day, he has been showing up in time every day since, a full three days in a row.

The only one who has returned after having been away for a while is our four-footed, long-tailed, sharp-snouted grey-coated friend the rat. Or maybe he never left, just kept a low profile for a while. If I ever under-estimated a rat's intelligence, I apologise. This one is just unbelievable. Never mind that he eats half a mango, and a quarter avocado (there goes another good guacamole). Last night he managed to pull two Snicker bars and a Kitkat to his hiding place, which we found out is behind the stove. Seriously! My flatmate had bought them, that afternoon, and the next morning the were missing. Did I eat them? No. The hermit? No chance, he would have had to leave his kingdom. And sure enough, we found a little paper trace next to the stove, and after pulling the stove out, there they were, half opened, half eaten. In the mean time all the traps we have set remain untouched, apart from the food that we have strategically placed inside the trap, which has miraculously disappeared. I don't question a rat's intelligence anymore.

the schools

All the time there was something missing in the streets of Port-au-Prince, but I didn't know what. Now I remember. The schools have opened for the first time since the earthquake, and in the mornings the streets are filled, once again, with children, in colourful school uniforms, carrying their books in backpacks - the smallest kids seem to have the biggest packs.


Initially, the government had decreed that schools had to open by the 1st of March, but this proved unrealistic. One of the biggest problems was that children didn't want to get back into the buildings, even if they were deemed safe: fear is a powerful driver. Then the date was postponed to 5 April, immediately after Easter, and even if not all schools made this deadline, two weeks later most have opened. And it is noticeable, and not only because of the children in the streets. Morning traffic jam has returned with a vengeance, as parents will still bring their kids to school in the car if they can - I think it is actually something of a status symbol. Did anybody mention fuel shortage, recently?


But what does it mean, "schools have opened"? Many schools, especially the bigger ones, have collapsed, so somehow we need to create alternative learning space. In some places we have installed tarpaulins, in others we have set up school tents - we call them emergency schools, they are not going to last long with heavy rains and hurricanes coming, but it is a start. We are contemplating temporary schools, wooden or metal structures with plastic sheeting as roof and walls, or perhaps we should move straight away to transitional schools, similar structures but with more durable walls and roofs. The main considerations are time - if we go directly to transitional schools, children will need to stay longer in the emergency tents - and costs, obviously taking out the temporary schools phase saves money. And then there are the schools that have no room, especially urban schools suffer from this inconvenience: there is only limited space available, and if we want to replace, say, the emergency tent with a more durable structure, we need to pull down the tent first, ie interrupt classes for a while - and children have already missed so much school in the past three months. Not easy!


A minor issue I have not yet mentioned is that 80% of the schools in Haiti are private schools, not like the top level schools you have in some countries, hugely expensive but better than the government schools, no, these are mostly very basic for-profit institutions that spring up in places - and there are many - where there are no government schools, and can thus charge hefty fees without providing the quality. Supporting the rebuilding of those schools may serve children's interest, but will mostly serve the school director's interest. Not easy! We would mostly try to negotiate with the school that they forfeit school fees for a while, in return for our support, but who is then going to pay the teachers? Not easy! Yet, you cannot NOT work with them, because you would disadvantage so many children, who after all are not to blame. Not easy!


And all of this is not helped by some of the attitudes we experience in schools. Last week one of our staff members was threatened by some of the school directors that have not been included in our program, after all, we can only do so much (and only if you agree to our not unreasonable, and fairly generous terms). The director of the school where this happened then stepped in and talked the others out of the school again, only to demand a fee for his protection services afterwards. A fee as in 'if you don't pay up, I don't let you go'. In another school one of our staff members was asked to pay for the salaries of four security people, brought in specially to protect her during the visit to the school. Not that we had asked for the protection, this was at the initiative of the school director, but paying she did, in the end. All very unpleasant, and obviously jeopardizing our ability to work. And in the long term, jeopardizing children's opportunities to attend school.


But, for the time being, children are back in school, some form of school, and the streets of Port-au-Prince have returned to normal, again. I suppose any of the above challenges are considered normal, too.


(1) for the moment we do emergency schools, in tents, or (2) under tarpaulins. I know he pictures are rather disappointing, given the subject - very photogenic in Haiti; I'll try to improve on this. Check out the extra pictures under "the fuel shortage".

the criminals

Much has been made of the fact that the main prison in Port-au-Prince collapsed after the earthquake, which allowed more than 4500 prisoners to escape. My first reaction at the time was that there were in fact far more criminals outside the prisons in Haiti than that there were inside, but I may have to adjust this somewhat. It does appear that in 2006 and 2007, at the height of the kidnapping wave, a joint effort of the Haitian Police and MINUSTAH, the UN stabilisation force here, was very successful in rounding up many of the gang leaders and putting them behind bars. Apparently, Brazilian MINUSTAH troops fought an urban battle in Cite Soleil, from street corner to street corner, and gradually took control of this neighbourhood, Haiti's most famous slum.

So the prison population did include the worst criminals. And they did escape, even though the prison - locally known as the Titanic - doesn't seem to be that badly damaged (see photo). In fact, there is a lot of suspicion about the mass escape, as it appears that the inner walls, those that immediately surrounded the blocks of cells, have held up pretty well. Guards may have panicked, leaving their weapons behind, but that still doesn't open the doors: it may well be that some guards actually helped the prisoners escape.

Whatever happened, the heavy criminals are outside again, and not many have been recaptured. One of the problems is that all the prison records have been destroyed after the earthquake, including photos of the criminals - just as strange as the escape: if most of the prison held up so well, why would the records have been destroyed? There was no fire, no cupboards or computers crumbling under collapsing walls, like what happened in some of the ministries. In any case, criminals are re-establishing themselves again, re-taking their territories - not always peacefully, as increasing number of gun battles in the slums seem to testify, after all a gangleader position doesn't stay vacant for long (unlike some of the positions in our office, strangely enough). There is also a noticeable increase in crime, although I am not sure whether the explanation often used in newspapers and magazines writing about Haiti, simply blaming this on the great escape, is correct. The upturn in kidnappings is indeed likely to be the result of gangsters taking up their old trade again, armed robbery and car jacking too. Yet, the increase in petty theft is probably more related to the fact that people have a far more difficult time to make ends meet after the earthquake than before. And the high incidence of rape, once again blamed on all these escaped gangsters, is perhaps more to do with something that has been rampant in Haiti society from long before the earthquake: lack of respect for women, and for young girls, and plenty of sexual opportunism, currently enhanced by the fact that so many people live close to each other in densly populated and poorly-lit camps where many are strangers. Another reason to work on strategies to empty these camps as soon as we can.

(photo) this is it, the Titanic, by far not as badly damaged as its more famous namesake!

the fuel shortage

It was bound to happen, one day - in fact I remember this from the past, when it happened when the Haitian government didn't have money to pay the bills. The country is running out of fuel. Several sources report different reasons, from an incident in Antigua that has delayed a fuel tanker, to unspecified " internal developments in Venezuela", Venezuela heavily subsidizing Haiti's cheap petroleum imports. But the bottom line is that many fuel stations have run dry, and others that still have some supplies have started to ration fuel distribution. Result 1: less traffic, occasionally we wheeze to the office, or back home, without the usual "blockus" at the ever-present rush hour. Result 2: long lines in front of the service stations, causing total "blockus" of some streets in Petionville, not having been designed for long lines in front of service stations. It is kind of ironic that less fuel still manages to cause a traffic jam.


But the real gem occurred this afternoon, when a water truck, one of these real heavy ones that you don't just push aside, broke down in front of our office gate. Broke down? Not exactly, it actually ran out of fuel! And in the process, it blocked our office gate, preventing any movement in or out of our compound. Unfortunately, I had to leave for a meeting outside. No problem, of course, because we have just as many cars that cannot get into the compound as that cannot leave, so just take one of the cars that are outside. Except that all of those had also almost ran out of fuel.


Perhaps it is this type of incidents that could demonstrate to the world why it is in fact very difficult to quickly deliver the necessary help to earthquake victims in Haiti. We, the humanitarian community, are sometimes being criticised for the slow progress of aid delivery, for the fact that, with the rainy season upon us, there are still people in camps that have not received shelter materials. In the mean time, we need to deal with the specific challenges of Haiti, this fuel shortage just being one minor one, but oh so illustrative!


The government has promised that the next ship will arrive coming Sunday, and that within a few days more there will be plenty of fuel available again. So, no need to stock up then, everything will be OK in no time. Except that the Haitians themselves don't believe it, and line the streets in front of the few service stations still selling fuel....




(photos) lining up in front of the service station, or for those less lucky, just bringing your jerrycan on the back of a bicycle.