ABSTRACT
ON THIS DAY in October 1995 I had come to see Jean-Bertrand Aristide, the President of the Republic, at work in the restored democracy of Haiti. Today his work consisted of presiding over a graduation at the School of Law of the Université d’Haiti and an exhibition of martial discipline, skill, and celebration. A turbulence of drum majors, majorettes, and majorlings awaited their turns on the grounds of the Palais National in Port-au-Prince while a military band, brass and more brass, played such traditional patriotic anthems as “Roll Out the Barrel.” Costumed groups had come from all over the nation to show off their acrobatic, assault, and break-dancing skills in parodies of military uniforms, pink satin sailor suits, full fruit salad General MacArthur conquering hero hats, silver-painted wooden swords—Napoleons, Green Berets, Redcoats … And what’s this? A bevy of marching teenage heroines in slinky boudoir gowns, gauze lifted to show firm legs, knees, thighs, and etcetera, gold glitter in their hair—are they welcome-home rewards for the conquering heroes of Haiti’s nonwars? Stenciled, pinned, embroidered—affixed to whatever part of the pubescent body seemed appropriate to the bearer—hang photos of Our Titid, Our Messiah, President of the Republic. The heroines are grave rather than seductive, but O, they are graceful.
