he very word Haiti conjures imagery both bold and evanescent. Voodoo ceremonies, the bloody reign of Papa Doc, Graham Green's The Comedians, desperate boat refugees, colorful folk art, the American military occupation - all of these get top billing. But while each of these themes is indeed a part of the country's dynamic tapestry, they only skim the surface of a very complicated and difficult picture. The only way to get a handle on what Haiti is about is to travel there - and even then, the country will get under your skin, rattle your senses, and leave you with far more questions than when you arrived. But of course almost no Americans (and few other nationalities) are currently making the trek to Haiti. It is, even more than Cuba, the very definition of "third world" in the Americas, and its future is one that no one can see clearly today.

Indeed, who could have predicted the torturous path Haitians would follow for the last two centuries? The country is the world's oldest black republic (established in 1804), but its history is littered with too few visionary leaders and too many selfish despots. The middle and upper classes resent the fact that virtually every story written about their country mentions that Haiti is the poorest nation in the Western Hemisphere. While it's easy to understand their wounded pride, the fact remains that per-capita income averages a pathetic $250 a year. At least three-quarters of the population lives in absolute poverty, while it has been said that seven families control 90 percent of Haiti's wealth. The country has the highest illiteracy rate in the hemisphere and the lowest life expectancy rate. The gap between the haves and have-nots is vast. Beyond widespread food and housing shortages, another figure speaks volumes: Only 2 percent of the population has legitimate access to electricity - though it should be noted that in Port-au-Prince, the power is off more often than it is on. In fact, students hang around in front of the Presidential Palace at night to study under the generator-powered streetlights. Despite the American military and financial support of the last few years, the internal situation has been progressively unraveling - mostly due to political squabbling between President Préval and Haiti's parliament. Millions of dollars in foreign aid have been put on hold pending appointment of a prime minister, which the country has lacked for almost two years (as of this writing).

And yet, despite the profound instability, Haiti is an amazing, undeniably charismatic place. For those who are receptive to it, there is a magic here. In spite of often dire circumstances, Haitians are resilient, and friendly toward visitors (affectionately called blancs in the local Créole, and this includes black-skinned guests). They are justifiably proud to be the only people whose ancestors successfully carried out a slave rebellion. Those who come here find estimable Créole architecture, sometimes very good food, and a rich heritage that is unique in the world - almost equal measures of French, African, and Caribbean. And of course the art scene is one of the country's major resources. As one person described it, Haiti's art is "born of a mystical marriage of Europe and Africa, of divine and animal, of anecdotal and essential, of pleasure and suffering, of naïve and modern." You'll see folk art - vibrant canvas paintings, elaborate iron sculptures, carved wood - at numerous roadside locations; most of these are churned out in mass quantities (bargain hard). But the really good stuff is stirring, and is found in a dozen or more galleries in Port-au-Prince and Pétionville (the best works often sell for thousands of dollars).

Everyone hopes Haiti has seen its worst days, but those of us who have been there recently also recognize how far it must evolve to be embraced by open-minded travelers (not tourists). Still, the country has attributes that are unique within the Caribbean and adventurous types will be rewarded.