"Life goes on" in Haiti despite tragedy (Feature)

By Silvia Ayuso Jan 23, 2010, 5:20 GMT

Port-au-Prince - In the wealthy Port-au-Prince neighbourhood of Petionville, regulars finally have something to cheer about: the Fior di Latte restaurant has dared to reopen for business.

'Life goes on,' says restaurant owner Daniel Soupper, a Frenchman who has lived in the Haitian capital for 14 years.

More than a week after an earthquake devastated much of the country with an estimated death toll of 200,000, a few Haitians look forward to seeing the first blooms of normal life sprout amid the rubble, refugee camps and overwhelming grief.

At a table in the Fior di Latte, a boy enjoys an ice cream under the watchful eye of his father, who seems pleased to be able to finally give his son a treat.

Nearby, other customers, just a a few to start with, drink beer and decide what to eat. The menu is ample and varied.

The scene is surreal, a week into Haiti's worst nightmare. Only a few hundred metres away, thousands of people are gathered in an improvised camp, with barely anything to eat.

Although the January 12 earthquake changed the lives of all across Port-au-Prince and killed rich and poor indiscriminately, it is quite clear that pace of recovery will be less than equal.

The impoverished city centre was practically destroyed by the quake, and tens of thousands of people had to look for makeshift shelter and scavenge food while awaiting international aid, which has still not reached many Haitians.

Petionville, though it was affected by the quake, suffered visibly less destruction, and wealthy residents were starting to enjoy small comforts such as the Fior di Latte.

This does not mean that Soupper is indifferent to the tragedy, which he experienced first-hand.

The Frenchman was in the traditional Hotel Montana when the ground shook for 35 seemingly endless seconds, as the building collapsed like so many other buildings in Port-au-Prince.

Soupper was near the exit and - miraculously, he says - climbed out on his own through a window with barely a scratch. The woman he had been talking to just a moment earlier was buried in the rubble, and he was unable to rescue her, he says.

He knows that many of his patrons among the capital's 'petite bourgeoisie' will never be back to the restaurant. Some died in the quake, and others were evacuated from the city or left on their own in the face of the devastation of Port-au-Prince.

But Soupper is convinced that keeping his restaurant closed would not help anyone.

'We told ourselves we had to open,' he says. 'In the end, there are lots of people who are exhausted and who want to start to eat normally.'

He did not want to abandon his 58 employees, among whom 26 lost homes or relatives or were injured themselves in the quake.

'They have fewer resources than we do to survive, and you have to keep them busy,' Soupper says.

A similar attitude is evident next door at the family-run Cafe Place Saint-Pierre.

'We have no choice but to keep going,' says Tarah Liboiron, daughter of the owner. 'The country has to keep going.'

Nearby, a barber's shop has opened for business. On Saint-Pierre Square, a man who sells paintings of typical Haitian scenes - from before the quake - has hung his wares again on the wall of the Hotel Kiman, though he admits that he has not sold any artwork since the disaster.

It seems like mundane commerce, but it can't hide that nothing is normal, much less how it was before.

No other stores have opened in the complex that houses the Fior di Latte, though the buildings were hardly damaged. The restaurant itself closes early, at dusk. And the now heavily guarded supermarket on the corner closes even earlier.

It is hard, Soupper says, to see Port-au-Prince - the city he chose to settle in - reduced to its current state.

And it is difficult knowing customers - 'friends,' he calls them, after more than a decade in business - who will never sit down again in his restaurant.

'But we decided that we have to keep going,' he says, shrugging his shoulders. 'It's the only way.'