Toronto Haiti Action Committee (THAC)

(This post was originally written on August 16th, 2007.)

Yesterday, Roger and I got up early and went to the Canadian Embassy. Canada built this new embassy building up at Delmas 75. We were dropped off on the sidewalk, and a went through a series of security checkpoints toward the back entrance. Back behind the building there was a large parking lot for employee use, and a sign pointed the way to both the tennis court and the pool. The lobby of the building was tiled in marble, and we went through metal detectors; we were forced to relinquish our cameras and cellphones, which were checked in to a small storage locker.

First we spoke to Generic Interview Person, who spoke to us through a plate of bulletproof glass. We explained that we wanted to speak to somebody regarding Lovinsky's case. "Is Lovinsky Canadian?" asked Generic Interview Person. "No," we said. You could almost see the eyeroll.

"Wait in the lobby, and we'll let you speak to somebody."

After a short time, we were given Visitor badges (in exchange for our passports) and we were allowed to enter the building proper. We were escorted by Generic Interview Person. The interior of the embassy was spacious, fully air-conditioned, paved with marble, and they had a decorative waterfall. At the top of the stairs, we passed a photo display dedicated to showing how Canadian police were making a big difference in Haiti. Eventually, we were deposited in the office of another embassy official.

She took our names, and asked us why we were there. We explained that we had been traveling with Lovinsky (she recognized the name, and mentioned hearing the radio reports), and that we were hoping that the embassy could help in the efforts to secure his release.

"Is Lovinsky Canadian?"

"No, he's Haitian."

With her, there was no mistaking eyeroll, the shrug of the shoulders, the wave of the hand. Body language that all sent one clear message: surely you don't expect us to get involved in a case like this? Roger was especially tenacious: "Look," he said, "the message that Canadians hear is that we're here stabilizing the country. Doesn't a situation like this call Canada's role here into doubt?"

She asked us to wait just outside her office while she spoke to the Consul. Roger and I strategized while we waited.

The Consul saw us after 15 or 20 minutes. He gave us a long story about how much work he put in to the Maxime Charbonneau case. Roger made an explicit appeal for the embassy to make a statement expressing concern for Lovinsky's safe return.

"Well," we were told, "we can't do this for every kidnapped Haitian. It's not practical." Roger suggested that Lovinsky isn't just any Haitian. Imagine if David Suzuki was kidnapped, or Jesse Jackson. Everyone in the country would know about it. It'd be all over the news constantly. That's what it's like for Lovinsky. Almost everyone knows who he is.

But the consul would not be moved. They can't get involved. Here, I think Roger may have played his hand too early: he said that he belonged to a network of activists who oppose Canada's role in Haiti and in the departure of President Aristide. I'm not sure they were words that were going to persuade.

For my part, I genuinely thought that the guy was trying to be upfront with us, but was telling us his hands were tied -- that such actions need to be directed by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Roger, I think, felt that the embassy's position was more indifferent: that they genuinely didn't care to make any statements about the Haitian's unless they could use the statements to undermine the government.

I thought it was probably too late, but I interjected: "I agree with my colleague that Lovinsky isn't just any old Haitian. If you can't make a statement of concern, I'm given to understand that we have several RCMP officers here, training the PNH (Haitian National Police). Can they provide logistical assistance to the police?" Think of this as an applied training exercise.

"First up," he said, "it's a bit insulting to suggest that the PNH need our help. And besides, although the RCMP have people here, they don't know the local procedures, they don't have contacts. They don't know the lay of the land. They couldn't be effective." And this part of really didn't make me angry until later: how are we training people if we're so unable to accomplish anything down here? Those who can't, teach?

The consul suggested that he'd ask the deputy Ambassador to speak to us, but after depositing us in our waiting chairs, he came back to announce that the deputy ambassador was far too busy to meet with us, and the Ambassador was out of the country. He fobbed us off on a clerical worker to walk us out of the building, past the same photo display of Canadian police officers helping to transform this country. Past the waterfall, out to the lobby to pick up our cameras and cellphones. Roger stood on the steps, looking out toward the trees and the parking area, and he picked up his camera to take a picture of the sign pointing toward the pool and the tennis court. The lobby guard rushed out and told him that pictures were not allowed. We went out through the main gates, back out on to Delmas, under the hot sticky sun, and the exhaust fumes.

We got someone to pick us up, and drive us downtown to where Fondasyon Trant Septanm, Lovinsky's organization, had gathered a rally in front of the Presidential Palace. MINUSTAH guards spread out evenly in front of the fence in front of the Palace, and snapped pictures of the demonstrators for their photo records.