Food riots at Gonaives turn into the first mass revolt since 1961

On 20 May 1984 staff at the CARE warehouse at Cap-Haitien loaded spoiled food onto trucks bound for animal feed. Word went round the market that supplies were being diverted for sale, a crowd stormed the warehouse, and militiamen fought them for four hours. Three people died, none of them militiamen. Whether by Radio Soleil or by word of mouth, the news reached Gonaives, where residents marched on police headquarters to protest at the beating to death of a pregnant woman. They were clubbed at the barricades, and this time they hit back. Thousands protested over two days and looted food warehouses until reinforcements arrived from the capital with machine guns. Ministers sent to find out what had happened reported that the food riots had become something else, that the crowds were calling for the expulsion of the Bennett family and the president's divorce. Five ministers were dismissed for reporting it. Eighty two thousand children in the Cap region alone were living on rations from foreign agencies.

In 1984 the bodies of thirty two Haitians washed up on a beach just north of Miami. Their boat, built by hand and open to the weather, had broken apart in a squall before dawn about two hundred yards from shore. Survivors said they had paid smugglers two hundred dollars a head and that forty people had crowded aboard for the run up the Windward Passage from Haiti to Florida. Most of those who died were too worn down by the crossing to swim the last stretch. Television carried the footage that evening: the wreck half buried in sand, waves breaking over it, the dead lying along the beach and shifting slightly with each wave. The station apologised the following night for having broadcast it. Those who lived were taken to the detention camp on Krome Avenue. They were not allowed to attend the funerals of the people they had sailed with.

Rulers of the new African states held power the way a man holds a rope in a current, tightly and for his own. Office went to relatives, to men from the home province, to allies who spoke the same language, and any opposition was treated as a conspiracy. Between the 1960s and the 1980s Mobutu held Zaire, Idi Amin held Uganda, Bokassa crowned himself emperor in the Central African Republic, Kenya passed from Kenyatta to Moi, Rawlings took Ghana and Banda had himself made president for life in Malawi. Several of them had sponsors. Britain regarded Amin as preferable to the left leaning Obote. France favoured Bokassa at the start. In Ethiopia the removal of Haile Selassie in 1974 produced Mengistu and the Dergue, which ran a political terror, moved whole populations by force, deepened the war in Eritrea and presided over the worst drought in a century. From the 1980s populations pushed back, and states broken by debt had less capacity to hold them down. The foreign sponsors mostly stayed where they were.

The Haitian writer Sanba Gregory Sanon, known as Azouke, was among the worshippers attacked during a crusade against the religion in 1986, in which a number of people were killed. He wrote about the building afterwards. Spirits had come to that small run down house from the four corners of the country, and inside it the members wrote poetry, composed songs, learned to dance and argued politics. They lost one of their brothers, a man Sanon calls very dear to the struggle, and from that day they decided to move the house elsewhere. The spirits, he says, visited them wherever they went. Anti-Vodou crusades ran from the colonial period into contemporary times without a long enough break for anyone to grow up without seeing one. Abandoned temples stand in the Artibonite valley, and they are as much a record of Haitian religious history as the ones still in use.