"The wealthy suburb of Petion ville, in the hills above Port au Prince..."
The above phrase occurs in almost every major news story that involves Petionville, part of the greater metropolis of Port au Prince. And it does not make me happy.
It’s time to find something a tad more creative and explanatory beyond this recycled cliché that inevitably leads to, “where the bourgeois sip their French wines,” or, “where the upscale houses of the rich tower over the city,” or some other analogy in which the rich people of PV scoff at the poor down in Port au Prince. First off, just get a new phrase; cutting and pasting from your last article is lame.
Second, and more importantly, this phrase that seeks to paint a Dickensian picture of the capital of Haiti is obnoxiously oversimplified and missing some vital contextual information. In their desire to turn a catchy, illuminating phrase, journalists are missing the heartbreaking realities in Petionville. For anyone who might think I am an overcritical nitpick, well maybe you’re right. But the constant use (or misuse) of this phrase to me is endemic of a bigger problem: that mainstream media coverage of Haiti often fails to capture the realities of this country that just over one year ago was the focus and concern of the whole world due to the tragedy of January 12th, the tumultuous history of the nation, and the swath of problems that continue to multiply.
Let me start by acknowledging the truth in the generalizations. Petionville is indeed a place where more money is exchanged than down in Laville (meaning ‘the city’). There are indeed French restaurants, hotels, nightclubs, banks, grocery stores, gyms, tall office buildings, and nice homes.
Every morning, I walk through Petionville down to my office, which is almost in another close suburb, Juvenat. So every morning I pass Place St. Pierre, where sits an enormous tent camp that helps fill the air with the smell of trash. I walk down through streets filled with trash and dirty water that is always running (If the women in need of water can find the broken water vein that morning, they will congregate around the old snapped pipe and gather liquid to use for washing, showering, or cooking). The nice homes are hidden behind one foot cement walls with razor wire over top of the fence. The grocery stores (the banks, hotels and offices too, actually) are staffed by at least one guard with a shotgun. By the time I arrive at work I’ve passed another dusty tent camp with no drainage systems; another camp is a minute’s walk away, next to a trash dump. When I look out the back window of my office, I see a few of the much talked about villas. But mostly modest cinder block houses, patched tin roofs, and a few tents fill my field of view, taking up 3/4ths of the mountainside.
It seems that the point of the phrase that catches my scorn is to illustrate, with a small explanation, the irony of the rich-poor separation in Haiti. However, the use of this phrase by people whose occupation is to build our knowledge and understanding of current events is the real irony. The phrase connotes vilification of those well off enough to be able to enjoy a night out; something that most of us, including many of the people writing these pieces, do in our home countries without a second thought. To condemn “the rich” in a general sense is easy and shortsighted, just as it is to condemn the poor. To talk in diminutive cliché phrases in the forums designed to promote knowledge and discussion certainly does not help people see through the issues that hurt Haitian society.
To me, the irony and tragedy is not that the rich can look down on the poor from another neighborhood, insulate themselves with fine things, or separate themselves entirely from the plight in their country. Instead, it is that often well meaning people pass wretchedness and suffering every day; it exists literally outside their front door or across the street. The irony is that the pieces that make up a civil society are moving around in the same places; they are present, capable, and often well-meaning. But they are not engaging in sustained, meaningful interactions that help one another comprehend and relate.
Part of the problem is that the same goes for several members of the media reporting on stories in Haiti. Their assignments are too often not investigative but to search out the quick, dirty piece (so oftentimes they stay in upscale Petionville hotels). This is vital work, too, but only if it is complemented by far reaching examinations of the environment in which these things are occurring. Otherwise, media consumers have the luxury of consumption without the challenge of understanding. In many ways, so do reporters.
When reporters write about the challenges of aid groups without noting the problems that the presence of an aid group provide specifically (for example, several microcredit groups in Haiti provide low cost loans, but do so at an extremely high interest rate, making it difficult for participants to build really significant businesses off of microcredit), they negate the voice of the people. When reporters (or bloggers) search for what makes the story and not what is hard to do, see, and write, they skip past providing their readers with things that might carve a path to understanding (for example, the way that many people talk to/about foreigners based on stereotypical preconceived notions is indicative of a xenophobia that has caused a ton of problems for this country). When these people do not or cannot immerse themselves or use their investigative talents to dig out a story, we are all left with summary explanations that lead us to forming surface level opinions.
Haiti needs sustained, investigative media coverage from national and international contributors. Only then can we begin not only to get the information out, but to get it out in ways that will build the understanding of the concerned people giving their time, energy, and money to supporting the country from near and far. Only then can we really tell the story of the Haitian people in a way that allows us to share in their humanity. What's more, maybe if we can make this kind of media accessible to several groups of people inside the country, we can contribute to the formation of a true civil society within the country.
What nobody needs is the phrase, “The wealthy….”
I can’t even write it. Oy
Goumen pou sa’w kwe
