By Jessica Desvarieux

On the eve of the New Year and the Bicentennial anniversary of its independence,

Haiti’s mood should have been celebratory and joyous. But I soon came to learn after flying to the capital, Port au Prince with my family to visit our homeland, there wasn’t much to celebrate.

In the Caribbean, Haiti is a country known not only for its mountainous scenery, but also for its rocky political and social structure. The latter was the case when we landed, learning of planned non-violent protests against the Aristide government. There was much in need of change in Haiti, but this time, there would be no military coup or political assassination. In a remarkable show of solidarity, Haitian students, the major force behind the protests, joined forces with Haitian citizens representing all socioeconomic backgrounds. The goal? The protestors hoped to pressure President Aristide to resign two years before his term ends in 2006.

Staying with my grandmother, who lives in a small suburb outside of the capitol, we became caught up in the news of the day and relied on the radio for reports of the protests, which were too dangerous to experience first hand. We learned that tens of thousands of Haitians marched through the streets of the capitol chanting, “que vle que pas vle say pol alle kunmem,” Haitian Creole for, “Even if [Aristide] does or doesn’t want to, he has to leave no matter what. Protestors carried banners calling for “Another Haiti” -- their bodies becoming as one, marching in prayer – a prayer for the resignation of the proclaimed Catholic priest, Aristide, who campaigned as a leader for the politically powerless, but who is now known to have attacked student protestors and to have sabotaged radio stations that aired segments professing freedom of expression. Further, while his wealth grew, the rest of the country remained one of the poorest in the western hemisphere.

The peaceful movement became dangerous when President Aristide’s police appeared, showering the marchers with tear gas, attacking them violently with guns. Stones were thrown at the protestors, however, the marchers walked on holding their signs and chanting in the streets.

The tensions that day reflected the age-old tensions that have existed between the classes – a tension my uncle knows all too well. He owns a furniture business in the heart of Port au Prince, an area that is typically inhabited by the poor. And when robbers shot him in the shoulder in front of his children while his home was being looted, something clicked - he realized he had to stand up for change. He realized the wealthy and the poor suffer from the same disease in Haiti: terror. Everyone is afraid of losing their livelihood in a country that lacks earnest political structure. Whether that fear comes from the government taking your business away or it comes from the fear of not knowing where your next meal comes from, it’s still fear.

It was this fear that became the uniting force across the classes. And on the eve of the bicentennial, Haitians rallied together and decided that they would no longer be afraid. Such bursts of raw democracy seem noble and just and in some ways worth our visit. In the year 2004, Haitians need to discover a workable democracy. It won’t be enough just to oust Aristide if another president comes along, a clone of his predecessor. Watching people protest for positive changes in my country of origin filled me with a pride I couldn’t have predicted on the airplane coming here. I saw Haitians rally together to make everyone’s life better. This makes me believe that Haiti will soon experience better days.