When the earthquake hit Haiti, I felt it all the way out in Troutdale. Instead of rushing to the blogs and the newswires, I went to the book shelf and pulled out my copy of 'All Souls Rising', Madison Smart Bell's account of the world's first, last and only successful slave revolt. The 1790 riseup was fired by Toussaint Louverture, a second-generation slave who knew how to work a crowd. Louverture transformed the irrational exuberance of a mob into something far more terrifying to the French overlords. At night from the hills surrounding Port au Prince, the smokey thunder of drumming rolled down into town, imprisoning the masters in their own fear. The French believed that every Haitian was a Vodoun in disguise: the gardeners who grew their food, the women who cooked their food, washed their clothes and raised their children. All of these wielded mysterious powers. Each had a secret bottle with a drop of death trembling on a purple lip.
But what about this earthquake? Directly under Port au Prince? Only six miles deep? And what about the military's "hurricane preparedness" exercise the day before? Not to mention the "humanitarian" tent city being built at Guantanamo...
- KBOO