Fun Time Back Again In Haiti Pre-Lenten Celebration ‘The Carnival Of Hope

With the country living under a military dictatorship and harsh economic sanctions, Haitians did not feel much like celebrating the annual pre-Lenten Carnival last year. No wonder, then, that with President Jean-Bertrand Aristide back in power, this year’s celebration was quickly baptized “The Carnival of Hope.”

Signs of Haiti’s newly relaxed political atmosphere have been everywhere during the 72 hours of nationwide festivities.

Here in the capital, a few participants have dressed as roosters, the symbol of the Lavalas movement of Aristide, or worn Uncle Sam costumes - masquerades that would have earned them a beating, or much worse, just last year.

As marchers paraded Sunday and Monday nights past the National Palace, where a special reviewing stand has been built for Aristide and invited guests from Haiti and abroad, many chanted the president’s name.

Over and over again, others sang the politically charged song that has emerged as the popular favorite of this year’s Carnival, “Pale Yo,” or “Tell Them,” which proclaims that the Haitian people are “like little matches, catching fire.”

“We’ve had to endure three long years of Lent” during Aristide’s exile, said Etienne Jean-Louis, a young reveler whose face was speckled with glitter and painted red and blue, Haiti’s national colors. “Now we finally get to have three true days of Carnival.”

Even so, the fragile security situation of the country and its precarious economy have managed to intrude on the celebrations. On Feb. 21, the Justice, Defense and Interior ministries issued an unusual joint communique, warning that Haitian intelligence had detected what was called “an attempt to destabilize the country on the occasion of Carnival.”

The main target of the unidentified plotters, the government said, was “vital installations in the metropolitan area” as well as Carnival events.

As a result, the multitudes that have taken to the streets here each night are dancing, singing, marching and kissing under the watchful eyes of American soldiers and international police monitors.

Concerns that anti-Aristide forces might attempt, under the cover of Carnival, to provoke violence also led the government to decree a one-week prohibition on the sale of alcohol as of last Wednesday. That ban, though only selectively enforced, has proved unpopular and appears to have put a bit of a damper on the festivities.

“Carnival just isn’t Carnival without plenty of beer and rum,” Ghislaine Baptiste, a toothless street vendor who was forced by the measure to switch to sales of soda, fruit juice and sugar cane, lamented Monday night. Besides, she added, “they are interfering with my livelihood.”

In many neighborhoods, the electricity shortage that has afflicted the capital since Christmas also kept many celebrators at home or from watching Carnival events on television.

The government had promised a large increase in the electricity supply, but managed to illuminate little more than the parade route and the surrounding downtown area.

If the festivities themselves had a certain slapdash, homemade look, that too may have been evidence of the Aristide government’s economic circumstances. Despite Culture Minister Jean-Claude Bajeux’s early vow that this year’s Carnival would be “built on new bases” to allow the people to express themselves, the government could come up with only 12 million gourdes, about $900,000, less than a quarter of the amount initially promised.

But in a country as poor as Haiti, even those relatively small amounts of money are seen as spoils and sources of political patronage.