Fearing the worst and genuinely disgusted with Duvalier, the U.S. withdrew its AID mission in August. Washington maintains a small embassy staff in Port-au-Prince and terms its relations with Duvalier "cool but correct."

Since 1963 Papa Doc has tightened his hold on the country, most recently in a purge of 19 army officers last summer. Although the political situation in Haiti is inherently unstable, much of the violence has subsided--some of it, of course, remains.

Posters of Duvalier are everywhere, and a heavy guard of soldiers with rifles and bayonets patrols the entrances to his palace. Small police units stop traffic on the country roads at intervals of 20 miles and ask for identification. "What do they want?" you ask your driver. "It's an inspection," he says, and will say nothing more.

Stories of executions by the Tonton Macoute are common. Recently, after a Haitian citizen had been murdered in broad daylight, a judge ruled that he had died a natural death. As one of the characters in Graham Greene's novel The Comedians remarks, "Violent deaths are natural deaths in Haiti."

The Tonton Macoute themselves are veiled in mystery. They do not wear uniforms, but move among the people--who don't talk about politics, because anyone could be an informer. One university student admitted that his father was in jail:

"How long has he been there?"

"Five years."

"Have you seen him?"

"No."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know."

"What was he arrested for?"

"I don't know."

'Are there many like him?"

"Yes, many."