Election Thoughts

Last night Haitian officials announced the results last week's presidential election. The three frontrunners are Mirlande Manigat (a Sorbonne-educated law professor and former senator, who would be the first female Haitian president), Jude Celestin (a businessman; the candidate of the current, very corrupt, administration; I haven't found a single person who actually supports him, so how he came out in second place is highly suspect), and Michelle Martelly (a very popular Haitian musician whose platform is almost entirely based on the popularity of his music). 3 guesses which one I'd like to see win? Ah, yes, the one who actually has an education and more than a vague shred of political experience. It's encouraging that in the first round she
(Manigat) was in the lead by 100%.


The next stage of the election is supposed to be a run-off between the top two candidates.  Martelly is fighting to be included because he came out less than 1% behind Celestin, and because it acknowledged by pretty much everyone (Haitians, the UN, the OAS, every foreign ambassador, etc.) that there was ballot-stuffing and other election fraud by the current administration on behalf of Celestin. Basically President Preval and his whole party are concerned, with good reason, that they will be exiled from Haiti if anybody besides their candidate wins. Also, there is a ridiculous amount of Earthquake Relief money that is being held until it can be given to the new administration, due to fear that Preval will just take all the money with him when he leave office. So his party, INITE, has very good political and financial reasons to remain in office at all costs.

The news was announced last night at around 8pm, and through the open windows I could literally hear the whole city reacting to the results. The noise was a mixture of celebration for Manigat, and outrage at Celestin. On the wide streets down in the city center, Martelly supporters took to the streets lighting things on fire and generally causing a ruckus. From the roof I could see the fires, from this distance nothing more than little dancing orange lights. In our neighborhood though, it was quiet. There wasn't a soul on the streets; everyone was in their homes or with friends gathered around radio or television sets. Then at one point, a group of people nearby started clapping and singing (Haitians make up funny songs/chants about any kind of situation). In the silence of the night, the noise echoed up and down the hillside. Someone on the hillside facing started banging on a metal drum in time with the music. All over the hills and valleys of our neighborhood people stood framed in the light of doorways and windows, calling back and forth, singing, clapping, banging on drums and metal roofs and anything that made noise. Rafael, one of the orphanage's security/maintenance guys was up on the roof with me. He was looking out, expressionless, and I wondered if he's seen too much to be surprised by anything that happens in this country anymore. I asked him if the people were happy or angry. He was silent for a while and then just said, "They are young." And he was right. The voices weren't celebrating Manigat, weren't bashing Celestin, weren't angry about Martelly. It was like the cacophany of sound became a living thing, celebrating, saying "We have a voice. It will be heard. Change will come. You will not rob us this time. We are watching."
I think maybe it was a voice of hope.