Aristide, Again.

• Author: Orenstein, Catherine

Francilus Saint Leger loves Haiti's once and future leader, Jean-Bertrand Aristide. Dressed in olive green U.S. army surplus and a red Marlboro baseball cap--fashion culled from the barrels of rad pepe, or used American clothes, that are sold in the streets here--he stands up, shakes a proud fist, and displays a purple ink-stained thumb to show that he has voted. "We are 100 percent Aristide here, each and every one of us!" he says. "Aristide is in our hearts. Write this: I love Titid!"

Titid is the nickname Haitians have given Aristide, a diminutive that connotes affinity and trust. In the dirt road that passes by voting booth #1129010005, in the impoverished Port-au-Prince neighborhood of Pele, women are cooking on charcoal stoves, children are kicking a half-inflated soccer ball, a party of goats meanders through the morning commerce, and a slow but steady trickle of voters wait their turn to select a leader. Some of them wear headbands with Aristide's picture and his campaign slogan: Lape nan tet, Lape nan vant--"Peace of mind, bread in the belly." It's a memorable couplet, because the words for peace and bread are written, and sound, exactly the same in Haitian Creole. Among Haiti's poor, who rarely have enough to eat, the concepts are equally entwined.

As a small crowd gathers, Saint Leger leads them in a chant: "Aristide, President! Aristide or death!"

Further down the road in the seaside slum of Cite Soleil, fifty-nine-year-old Jesula DuFort--her name means "Jesus is here, of strength" in Haitian Creole--also loves Aristide. As election officials load boxes of ballots onto a truck for transport to a counting station, she pulls her laminated voter registration card from a small, zippered purse dangling around her neck and complains that she didn't get to vote today. The office where she had registered closed early, after all of the ballots were used up. She is disappointed, she says, that someone else got her ballot, and she pulls another laminated card from her purse to show me who she wanted to vote for. On one side is a tiny calendar in red ink; on the other is a photograph of Aristide--smiling and looking out through a pair of large, gold-rimmed glasses. It is a particularly unintimidating photo: One of his eyes appears slightly larger than the other, and his face flashes when the light of the afternoon sun hits the plastic. Thousands of Haitians carry this same picture--often right next to photos of children or lovers. It is simultaneously one of the most beloved and controversial faces in Haiti. "Titid is the only one who cares about the poor," says DuFort, holding the card to her heart like a charm. "He is the only one for us."

On Sunday, November 26, Haitians showed up at the polls to elect nine senators and a new president. And the week came to a totally predictable end. According to Haiti's electoral commission, 92 percent of Haitians chose Aristide. But not everyone views Aristide as a democratically elected leader. Haiti's opposition--a coalition of fifteen small parties calling itself the Democratic Convergence--boycotted the vote. The United States and the European Union refused to fund it. The Organization of American States (OAS) declined to send election monitors. And United Nations Secretary General Kofi Annan...