[Date Prev][Date Next][Thread Prev][Thread Next][Date Index][Thread Index]

20644: Kakadjab: RE: 20431 On the Chimeres (fwd)



From: Kakadjab@aol.com


Contrary to Mr. Sylvain's claim that the word Chimeres entered the public
discourse in 2001, I believe this Voice article was the first US publication
which back in 2000 identified the Chimeres.  It also established the link between
them and the Haitian government.
D.C.  
-----------------------
THE VILLAGE VOICE
Widow of Slain Haitian Radio Journalist Carries on His Work Amid Threats
The Investigation Continues
by Jean Jean-Pierre

November 29 - December 5, 2000
Michèle Montas with Jean Dominique at Radio Haiti Inter(photo: Courtesy of
NCHR)
aitian journalist Michèle Montas has witnessed the ominous signs before: the
anonymous nocturnal phone calls, the veiled acts of intimidation hurled
publicly by those who claim to be connected to one of the many factions criticized
in Radio Haiti Inter's editorials, the occasional prowling of unidentified
individuals in front of the station's gate.
Montas is the widow of Haiti's most celebrated journalist, Jean Léopold
Dominique, with whom she co-anchored a popular radio show. Dominique was shot dead
execution-style on April 3 of this year in the station's garage, apparently by
a lone gunman who then walked brazenly to a waiting vehicle. Also gunned down
was Jean-Claude Louissaint, a caretaker at the station.
A few weeks ago, a spate of new warnings grew into overt threats when a
relative of a well-known member of a new street gang named Chimères, after the
mythological fire-breathing monster, told a young female reporter at the station,
"We will make sure that every one at Radio Haiti experiences Dominique's
fate." Montas recalled in a telephone interview from Port-au-Prince that "Jean and
I used to listen together to recordings of similar threats a few days before
his murder."
The Chimères, whose tactics uncannily resemble those of the dreaded Tonton
Macoutes, are made up of self-proclaimed allies of Fanmi Lavalas (Lavalas
Family), the party foundedby Jean-BertrandAristide, the former president who was
reelected over the weekend. Strangely, Lavalas officials have yet to publicly
dissociate the party from this gang, which has been rampaging on the streets of
Port-au-Prince and other cities with impunity.

In a blistering editorial broadcast following renewed threats to station
members, Montas rebuked authorities, declaring, 'If an employee of Radio Haiti
loses a hair, if the blood of one of our journalists is shed again, you will pay
for this.'

Dominique, 69 at the time of his death, founded Radio Haiti in 1971. His
daily criticisms of the dictatorial regimes of both Duvaliers (Papa Doc and Baby
Doc) and his unadulterated passion for advocating the aspirations of the masses
propelled him and Montas into exile in the U.S. in 1980. They returned after
the popular uprising that overthrew Jean Claude (Baby Doc) Duvalier in 1986.
Again in 1991, the couple found themselves in exile in the U.S. when the
Haitian military-many of whose officers are graduates of the U.S. military's School
of the Americas at Fort Benning, Georgia-staged the bloodiest coup in the
country's history. Dominique and Montas finally returned to Haiti in 1994 when
Aristide was restored by a U.S.-led multinational force.
At Dominique's funeral, more than 15,000 people crowded Port-au-Prince's
soccer stadium to pay tribute to the man they affectionately nicknamed "Jean Do."
Today Montas believes that "most of the people who admired him strongly
believe that things would have been different if he were alive." Indeed, on the
third day of every month since Dominique was murdered, there have been
demonstrations throughout the country-especially in the rice-rich region of the
Artibonite Valley where Dominique, an agronomist by profession, was extremely popular
among the peasants.
Since her husband's murder, Montas has been at the helm of Radio Haiti. Early
each morning she begins Inter Actualités, the show they used to host together
, with the words, "Bonjour, Jean."
A graduate of the Columbia University School of Journalism, class of '69,
Montas returned to her native Haiti in 1970, working at the daily newspaper Le
Nouvelliste. She recalls that her uncle Lucien Montas, who was editor in chief,
taught her how to navigate the perilous waters of the profession under a
dictatorship. Three years later, after stints with the French daily Le Monde and
the African weekly Jeune Afrique, she returned to join Dominique at Radio Haiti.
(Subsequently, during both of her periods of exile, she worked at the UN as a
press officer and radio producer.)
In contrast to Dominique's free-spirited, improvisational commentaries,
Montas has always specialized in hard news, insightful essays, and penetrating
interviews. Lately, however, this has been changing. In a blistering editorial
broadcast three weeks ago following renewed threats to station members, she
rebuked Haitian authorities for allowing what she called "the virtual new Tonton
Macoutes and mercenaries of change in the country to act with license and
arrogance," and added, "If an employee of Radio Haiti loses a hair, if the blood of
one of our journalists is shed again, you will pay for this."
In Haiti, the saying goes, "L'enquête se poursuit" (the investigation
continues). After Dominique was killed, the government's investigation led to the
apprehension of one Jean Wilner Lalanne, who was admitted to a hospital because
of a leg wound sustained during his arrest. A few days later, Lalanne was found
dead in his hospital bed. The official cause of death: a massive heart
attack. He was 35 years old. The week before last, Lalanne's body disappeared from
the morgue. The investigation continues.
Amid a storm of coup rumors on the eve of the presidential election, Haiti's
police commissioner, Pierre Denizé, Minister of Justice Camille Leblanc, and
Judge Claudy Gassant, who is in charge of the Dominique case, all left the
country with their families.
Meanwhile, Port-au-Prince experienced yet another of its traditionally
violent pre-election weeks. Dozens of bombs exploded in the streets in the most
populated quarters, killing and injuring scores of people.
Not that the government has done nothing. However, some of its timid efforts
have been stymied by members of the new legislature-most of them are from the
Lavalas Party-who won office last May. A key issue in those elections: the
method of tabulating the vote. (Sound familiar?) Short of changes in the way
votes are tabulated, the opposition parties-as well as the U.S. government-now say
they will not recognize anyone who is elected, including Aristide, who is
still the most popular politician in Haiti.
Does all of this signal the end of the investigation of Dominique's murder?
"I believe it is just temporary," replies Montas firmly. "As long as I'm alive
and as long as Radio Haiti exists, this crime will not stay unsolved."
In the background, the clearly audible reverberation of machine-gun shots is
a reminder that the investigation undoubtedly will take a bit longer.