A church bell at five in the morning starts the dechoukaj

At five in the morning on 7 February 1986 a single church bell began ringing in Port-au-Prince, and other sacristans climbed their towers and joined in. The message was that Jean-Claude Duvalier had gone. The city came out into the streets. Within hours the joy turned into a reckoning. Militiamen who had slept through the news put on their denim uniforms and walked into crowds that killed them, some with stones, some with a tyre filled with petrol and set alight, a killing Haitians named Pere Lebrun after the country's largest tyre importer. People carried green branches and the old blue and red flag, and painted those colours on their faces when they had no cloth. They walked on the pavement in front of the palace, which had been forbidden for a generation. A mob broke open Francois Duvalier's tomb and found it empty. The word for all of this was dechoukaj, a farmers' word meaning to uproot.

Between 1981 and 1989 United States immigration officers working from Coast Guard cutters stopped 21,461 Haitians at sea. Six of them were carried to the United States for a fuller interview. That is under one quarter of one percent of the people they questioned. The written standard was not demanding. Officers were told to stay watchful for any sign, including a bare claim, that someone aboard an intercepted vessel might qualify as a refugee. A senior immigration official with direct knowledge of the program later said the interviewers had received no instruction and no training, that they went on whatever they felt at the moment, and that everyone in front of them was black. Former colleagues of his said much the same. Nobody supervised the interviews. A judgement was reached on a deck in the Windward Passage, written into a file, and almost never read again. The boats went back to Port-au-Prince.

The economies handed over at independence were organised around a handful of export crops. Colonial administration had never tried to feed the territories or to link them internally. The aim was a possession that paid for itself out of export duties and tax, so roads and railways ran from the growing districts to the nearest harbour and stopped there. By the 1950s the acreage under cash crops was rising while the capacity to grow food for local eating was falling, which put rural households in a position where growing more left them poorer. Marketing boards bought at fixed low prices and sold abroad at much higher ones, and independence did not close them. The pattern was old. In the nineteenth century the continent exported captives, ivory and palm oil. In the twentieth it exported cotton, cocoa and gold. Around 1950 there was reason for optimism, with high postwar prices, expanding mines, and a West African merchant class better off than its South Asian equivalent.

The popular overthrow of Jean-Claude Duvalier in February 1986 caught a region that had ignored the preceding decade. Smith lists what the region failed to notice: grassroots movements spreading through the provinces after 1980, the political weight of the diaspora and its part in eroding macoutisme, and a refugee crisis that kept growing. When the crisis broke it was again the Jamaican government, under Edward Seaga, that acted first, sending the education minister Neville Gallimore to negotiate with Duvalier. Smith notes drily that Gallimore was reportedly chosen because he spoke Spanish, a skill of little use in Haiti, and that many Jamaicans remained unconvinced his efforts contributed to the capitulation. CARICOM itself was slow, sending a group of Caribbean leaders to see president Henri Namphy only in December 1987 and returning again in 1989 under Prosper Avril.