In November 1997 we were invited to visit a village called Chenot in order to investigate the possibilities of presenting a workshop exploring non-violent conflict resolution. We found that there was so much interest from varying sectors of the community that we ended up facilitating two workshops, one in March, the other in May.
We hope that in reading these two reports, you will understand our approach to this part of our work, which we would like to think goes some way to enabling Haitians to explore ways in which they can create lasting and viable approaches to the problems that they face.
A Visit to a Provincial Village
A Conflict Resolution Workshop in a Provincial Village
Nearly everyone in the area works some land, but to say that the local population subsists on what it grows would be untrue. Much of Haiti is suffering drought at the moment. The rains had only just come to Chenot in late April we were there. They were already a month late. There had not been enough rainfall to guarantee a good crop by the time we left. Amongst the many proverbs of this region is one that says that a child born in June will always be small. This is because there is usually not enough to eat in the month before the harvest. This year July risks being a hungry month as well.
The local Catholic priest in the area is involved in a community project to build a road which reaches further up the mountainside. He told us that when paying the men who have worked on the project he has to take into account that some of them live in communities where notes worth more than 25 gourdes - approximately $1.50 - are too large to use. In this climate of economic insecurity, it is not surprising that trees are cut down in vast numbers to be made into charcoal and sold, even if deforestation speeds up the process of soil erosion. It is equally unsurprising that conflicts relating to natural resources - access to arable land, water and trees - are often at the root of conflicts. It was due to the wide-spread problem of conflict that we were originally invited to visit Chenot last November, and subsequently asked by several local organisations to present two workshops exploring the non-violent resolution of conflicts.
By 8.30 the first morning of the workshop all of the participants were gathered and we could begin. The task in itself was somewhat daunting. Justin is from the USA and I am from Britain but we would be presenting the three days in Haitian Creole. Normally, we try to always work with a Haitian when preparing and presenting a workshop in an attempt to adapt the techniques that we use to Haitian culture, and to ensure that there is good understanding during the workshops themselves. During the preparation for this workshop we were lucky enough to collaborate with Gracita Osias, the Haitian woman who had co-presented the first workshop in Chenot, and with Bazile Wesner. Unfortunately, personal circumstances meant that our Haitian co-facilitator could not come with us at the last moment and Justin and I were on our own.
One of the objectives in any of the workshops that we run is to empower the participants by creating a space where everyone is valued for the contribution she or he makes. We have found it difficult at times to explain to groups participating in our workshops, particularly those that explore non-violent conflict resolution, that we the presenters do not have the answers. The education system in Haiti, as in many countries, is based on the idea that teachers have the answers and students listen and learn. It can therefore be extremely difficult to break that mould and create a space in which the participants believe themselves capable of coming up with ideas themselves rather than expecting us, the presenters, to do that for them. But it is absolutely necessary. Any so-called solution imposed by people from outside a community is almost bound to fail.
The mix of people that we met on that first, somewhat nerve-wracking, day was wide-ranging. Only about a quarter of the participants were women. This is a situation that happens fairly often and we have to continually think about strategies to boost the number of women to a more equitable level without imposing our own judgements on the communities and groups with which we work. Aside from this discrepancy, the participants were drawn from all economic levels of the local society and included both young and old. Religion is very important in Haiti, and along with members of both Catholic and Protestant congregations, the group included several voodoo practitioners, a houngan (priest) and a doctor of herbal remedies.
At the moment, banditry is such a problem in the area that several participants understood completely that strangers who arrived at a hospital demanding to come in should not be allowed to enter. This was countered by the story of another who had suffered such a refusal. His fifteen year old daughter had become gravely ill, and the nurse who works in the area had written him a note asking for certain medicines from the local hospital which was a six hour walk away. When he arrived he was not allowed in and was sent home. The next day the nurse told him to try a local dispensary, a four hour walk away, which she did not think was likely to have the necessary medication, but which was the only hope. The dispensary did in fact have what was required, but unfortunately it was already too late when he got back. His daughter was dead. It is in hearing such stories, told in such a matter-of-fact way, that I find myself face to face with the enormous gulf in experience between myself, raised in a country where a functioning health service is considered to be a fundamental right, and Haiti, where the lack of even basic health services and malnutrition have lead to a life expectancy of about 53 years.
At the point of conflict the scene is stopped and is restarted from the beginning. Now Forum Theatre comes into its own. The idea is that any member of the audience can stop the action at any time and can replace one of the actors in order to try to resolve the conflict. The scene can be restarted any number of times and the audience can stop the action at any time. Unlike Europe, where I have presented many workshops, the idea of acting or ‘role-playing’ seemed to hold no fear for the Haitians in the group. Even more extraordinary was the audience that the Forum Theatre drew, without really trying. There had been another meeting in the church where we were holding the workshop, and the windows to the church are open to the elements, as is usual in Haiti. As our group experimented with the scene, people started gathering, until there was an audience of about twenty-five watching from the sanctum of the church and through the windows. The scene was riveting, dealing with a problem with which every inhabitant of Chenot is familiar. As various attempts at solving the problem were tried, the audience would discuss in whispers what had been done and what they would have done. No more proof is needed to my mind to show the possibilities for using theatre to create debate about social problems and conflict within a community.
I was already impressed by the commitment of the participants who attended the workshop during the first rains for many months, when planting is a priority. Finishing this article in Port-au-Prince by the light of an electric bulb, on a computer, knowing that I can wash in running water from a tap before I go to bed, I think of the extraordinary people I met in Chenot and the hospitality and honesty with which they welcomed me. I cannot but feel humble and privileged that I have had the opportunity to know them.
Max (Simon Ashmore)
Cheno is a village situated in the Cahos mountains, between the River Artibonite and the Plateau Central. A Swiss nurse, who does community health work in Cheno, asked PBI to come and do a workshop in conflict resolution. Seeing as the situation in the region seemed tense, we decided to make a preliminary visit. In addition, we were keen to make sure that there was a genuine desire for our services amongst the people themselves. By turning up in person, we were giving the inhabitants of the region a chance to talk to us and make a request for a workshop directly. We then returned to the capital to prepare the workshop.
Here, a member of the team offers the reader a series of impressions which arose from that visit.
For six hours now we have been walking among a landscape of yellowing plants and loose stones. That's what separates Petite-Riviere, the town where the bus dropped us off, and Cheno. Once you have left behind the paddy fields of the Artibonite Plain, only the valley floors provide sufficient water for trees and crops to grow. Finally we reach the top of the ridge, from which we can make out the central plateau and its sugar cane plantations.
Up here, the landscape is considerably greener, but the ravages of deforestation and erosion are none the less visible. In former times, the inhabitants of these mountainous regions could make some money from the sale of rice and 'rapadous' (large cylinders of solid raw sugar). The drop in local production, both of rice and cane sugar, along with competing imports, have considerably reduced the viability of this source of income. In order meet various costs such as schooling for the children, many farmers see no other way out but to cut down trees and burn them, to make charcoal for sale in town. In this way, the amount of usable land diminishes, whilst many people suffer from a lack of variety in their diet, or quite simply from not getting enough to eat at all.
Julia (not her real name) is a Cheno farmer. She invites us into her small house and hastens out again to grill and grind coffee for us. Formerly, this would have been the bare minimum in hospitality; these days it is a luxury. Coffee trees need shade. Deforestation has not been kind to them.
Some time later, Julia comes back to sit with us. She tells us a bit about the history of the region. A particularly brutal chef de section (local administrator during the Duvalier and de facto regime periods), Paul Onondieu, reigned during the coup d'etat years, terrorising the population and crushing any attempt at community organisation. Arrested at the end of 1994, he was sent to prison in Port-au-Prince. Many fear his return, or, at least, the return of something similar. The legacy of those times weighs heavily on the people's shoulders. As well as the organisational vacuum which was left behind, there are a series of disputes pending, concerning, among other things, the theft of lands.
The courts are a day's walk away, and the effectiveness of the legal system is very limited. After making several visits, with no noticable progress being made in their cases, plaintiffs often lose heart.
Almost everyone we spoke to complained about the absence of a police force. It is true that the former community police force, elected by the populace during Aristide's presidency, occasionally still fulfils its role. But the people know that it is no longer recognised by the state. In addition to the problem of legitimacy, there is that of salaries. And the fact that they sometimes demand to be paid for their services affects their credibility in the eyes of the population. Everyone seems to agree that in this area, 'pa gen leta' (the state does not exist). There are those who say it with a smile, for the reign of the arbitrary can be profitable for some. And from time to time attitudes and behaviours can be witnessed which remind us, luckily only faintly, of Onondieu's time.
Is more pronounced state presence and authority the only solution? Opinions differ on this question. On the other hand, if one thing is clear, it is the lack of recognised, legitimate and effective mechanisms for resolving conflicts and upholding order. Furthermore, there is a lack of tangible evidence that justice and democracy have been restored for good.
From one visit to the next, we see progress being made: soon, the summit of the ridge will be reachable by car. The market, the town, the courts and the police will be closer to hand. This may, on the other hand, give a considerable boost to the charcoal trade. Furthermore, the locals have voiced misgivings: attacks by 'zenglendos' (heavily armed criminals) are frequent in Petite Riviere, despite the presence of the police and the Justice of the Peace. Several houses belonging to people from the Cahos have been ransacked. The road may also bring its share of problems.
Jonas spends 20 days a month in Cheno. An agronomist, originally from the central plateau, where his family lives, he has got involved in a local agricultural development project, supported by the catholic church. During the meetings of local popular organisations, an agenda covering several years has been drawn up. When not in meetings or training sessions, Jonas spends his time in the fields; working with farmers to improve techniques and knowhow, and analysing the problems that arise. He hopes, over the years, to help the farmers to develop and diversify their agricultural production, enough to allow them to make it a source of income which could, at least in part, replace the sale of charcoal.
At present, Jonas is facing a common problem: livestock left to roam at will, eating or trampling the crops of neighbouring farmers. Immediately, the development project is threatened: it is essential that the farmers see the benefits of their travails as they go along, and a roaming cow or goat can wipe these out within the space of minutes.
This is, in fact, the cause of conflict most often mentioned by the people we spoke to. By the last time we visited, farmers had begun to systematically kill any animals they caught causing damage to their crops, eating some of the animal and often leaving the rest to rot, without informing the owner.
In a few days' time, we shall be returning to Cheno. We have been asked to present two workshops of three days each on conflict management. With a Haitian co-presenter, we will try to encourage an atmosphere of mutual exchange, using discussions, role plays, and verbal and non-verbal communication, in order to allow the people of the community to discover new perspectives, solutions, and openings. Watch this space!
Marc Allenbach
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