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TIME: Almanac 1995
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TIME Almanac 1995.iso
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1995-01-31
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<text id=94TT1373>
<title>
Oct. 10, 1994: Haiti:In the Midst of Trouble
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1994
Oct. 10, 1994 Black Renaissance
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
HAITI, Page 48
In the Midst of Trouble
</hdr>
<body>
<p>By Edward Barnes/Limbe
</p>
<p> In Limbe, a Haitian town of perhaps 20,000 on the road from
Cap Haitien to Port-au-Prince, the chaotic interlude between
the disintegration of the old order and the establishment of
the new began last week with the spectacular helicopter landing
of U.S. Marines. We heard stories of how townspeople began tentatively
probing the extent of their new freedom. They dared to say the
name Jean-Bertrand Aristide in public--and were not beaten.
Then, from hiding places under beds and inside suitcases, pictures
of the exiled President emerged. Step by cautious step, people
grew bolder. Friends formed groups that swiftly grew into crowds,
and the crowds began to move with their own will.
</p>
<p> Their target was the town's police headquarters. Again and again,
the crowds surged forward before being driven back by shots
fired in the air by the remaining police--most had already
stolen away. (The Marines had confiscated mortars, heavy weapons
and deadly fragmentation grenades but had left six rifles for
the police.) Policemen are seldom assigned to their own towns--it is harder to abuse the people one knows well--but nine
of them had nowhere to run and were huddled inside when reporters
entered to ask about the gunfire. "They have burned our uniforms,"
a man who said he was the local commander explained when asked
why none of them wore uniforms. "Look--they throw stones at
us," he said, motioning for another man to come out from the
back. Two white gauze pads, daubed with wet blood, dangled fron
his skull and neck. "See," he said. "They want to kill us."
Just then, the crowd surged toward the precinct house. One of
the police ran out to the gateway wildly swinging a machete.
This infuriated the mob, who responded with barrage after barrage
of stones. Inside the post the pounding of rocks on the corrugated
zinc roof and hollow cinder-block walls was deafening. The police
nervously grabbed their rifles and went to the windows.
</p>
<p> "Shoot in the air," one yelled, and the stone walls reverberated
with the report of gunfire. Another policeman ripped a grenade
from his shirt and threw it toward the crowd. It rolled to the
gate and stopped, a dud. At the sound of the shots, two Special
Forces A-Teams that were arriving to occupy the town took up
battle positions and prepared to attack. Looking up from the
floor where we were crouched, I could see the first soldiers
readying their guns. Given the firepower of the two A-Teams,
in a minute there would not be much left of us or the building.
</p>
<p> Without thinking, I raised my hands high over my head and, followed
by Miami Herald reporter Susan Benesch, bolted for the American
line, jumping over the unexploded grenade. "Don't shoot," we
shouted. "They're scared and will surrender." Later the soldiers
would tell us they were within a quarter-second of firing. "You
are lucky we weren't Marines," one confided. "You would have
been dead for sure."
</p>
<p> In the few seconds it took to get outside, most of the police
had run out the back, terrified of facing a fire fight like
the one that had left 10 Haitian policemen dead in Cap Haitien
three days before. I followed them and found eight hiding in
other buildings of the compound. I told them to put their hands
in the air. We were walking back to the main building when the
Special Forces pushed in. It was over, and no one had died.
</p>
</body>
</article>
</text>