Haiti's Agony

Forty years ago, my ship, USS W.S. Sims, pulled into Port au Prince, Haiti, for the weekend.

My wife and one of the other officer's wives surprised us by meeting us at the pier. They had flown down from Mayport, Florida to join us. There had been soldiers with machine guns on the roof of the air terminal. It was the last year of the notoriously corrupt and brutal regime of Papa Doc Duvalier.

The amount of poverty was startling. I had seen crushing poverty in rural Holmes County, Mississippi and in rural areas of the Philippines, but nothing to compare to Haiti. Still, we found the Haitians on the street to be friendly and welcoming.

We stayed in a lovely old hotel run by an expatriate German couple. The place was reminiscent of the setting of a Graham Green novel.

We rented a run-down VW and drove up into the mountains. There were still trees on the mountainsides then, and the view was spectacular. The roads were full of boulders with sharp edges. One of them punctured a bald tire. I checked under the hood and found the jack and spare tire, but there was no tool to get the hub cap off. Soon a Haitian farmer happened along. The only tool he had was a machete. He applied it to the hub cap and had it off in a jiffy. We thanked him and changed the tire. He smiled, waving and walked on up the mountain. We decided it was best to head on back to the hotel.

Back in Port au Prince, we explored the streets and were fascinated by the outpouring of art. Many of the paintings would have been classified as primitive art - flat perspective, simple primary colors. But there were other paintings of the highest quality painted with a complex palette, that would have been at home in major art galleries.

It was only a brief visit, but it left us with a strong impression of a wonderful people. We can only wish them well.