The quickest way to figure out who is officially in charge of Jacmel is to read the over-sized, loopy cursive sprayed across walls all over town.
Everywhere, the grey cement expanses hemming most properties have been branded with red, black and blue endorsements for mayor Edo Zenny, regional federal representative Zidor Fednel, and the mayor’s deputy, Ronald Andris.
They are popular men, trailed everywhere by supporters. In these post-earthquake weeks, they’re also difficult to get an audience with. But that’s only part of the reason time-pressed international aid groups have begun to bypass them, courting instead a savvy subset of local businessmen who can really open doors in this city.
Many agencies digging in for a long-term presence here are realizing they’ll have to bend their rules – and make some unusual alliances – to maintain the flow and distribution of aid as the emergency phase winds down and the international spotlight fades.
The end justifies the means. It’s a dirty world, and sometimes you gotta play dirty.— Steve Heicklen, America's Disaster Reaction Team
Elected officials in Jacmel have been rendered powerless by Haiti’s centralized government, which, in spite of its literal destruction, still insists on making all important decisions, including budgetary allocations.
“We have the Port-au-Prince Republic,” Mr. Andris explained one recent afternoon, attempting to outline why Jacmel’s official leaders have yet to enact a broad plan for the city’s reconstruction. He and the mayor are wary of making promises to their constituents they can’t deliver on – their municipality has no revenue generation and the central government retains a tight hold on the nation’s purse strings.
“They give first to Port-au-Prince before Jacmel,” Mr. Andris said, adding: “I think Jacmel has to fend for itself.”
Mr. Andris outside the library.
The same is true for the aid groups wanting to remain in the city.
Faced with logistical problems getting shipments of supplies into Jacmel – the only road link is prone to accidents and seasonal washouts; the seaport is rife with theft and the airport has been shuttered to international flights – many desperate groups have resorted to quietly conferring strategic “donations” to well-connected local businessmen in exchange for their help.
What is unique – and perhaps surprising – about this evolving system is that the donations are not typically in the form of cash or lavish gifts.
“A bottle of Tylenol and some antacids usually does the trick,” said Steve Heicklen, a New Jersey firefighter who runs an NGO known as America’s Disaster Reaction Team. Since January, the group has been running one of the largest medical aid operations in Jacmel at a hospital west of the city. He said they justify occasional donations of medicine to local business owners because the favours that come in return – access to tough-to-find rental vehicles, for example – enable his group to keep going.
“The end justifies the means. It’s a dirty world, and sometimes you gotta play dirty,” he said, half joking. Turning serious, he added: “In reality, the medicine is going to the people. It’s just not my [chosen] people.”
Justin Baker, founder of the U.S. based organization Conscious Alliance and a freelance logistical co-ordinator for several small NGOs in Jacmel, aligned himself recently with a middle-aged rainmaker named Amil Roland Zenny.
The Chamber of Commerce chairman, Mr. Zenny is the cousin of mayor Edo Zenny and owns several businesses in Jacmel, including a radio station, a water company, an ice business and a Western Union outlet. Recently, he’s begun to promote himself as an alternative conduit for aid groups looking to bypass the bureaucracy of dealing with the central government and larger organizations so they can reach people faster.
