PORT-AU-PRINCE, Haiti -- When the sun goes down, small flames flicker to life and cast pale orange shadows. Across vast reaches of the city, there will be no other light until dawn.
Electricity is in short supply in Haiti, jeopardizing the country's economic recovery and the goodwill of a population wearily acquainted with the troubles of darkness.
The work needed to turn on the lights is a test of President Jean-Bertrand Aristide's new government and a measure of the enormous obstacles faced by reformers who seek to overhaul Haiti's backward economy.
Prime Minister Smarck Michel said recently that the energy shortage is the country's most immediate problem. The implications are both practical and psychological when ambitions are great and hopes fragile.
"When there is no electricity, you feel that Haiti is going backward," said Gary Metelluz, a Port-au-Prince resident. "I remember when Jean-Claude Duvalier was in power, it was a shock when the lights went out. Now it's the opposite. Electricity has become a luxury."
Haitians learn to adjust their schedules to make use of the electricity when it does flow. For many, that means awakening at 3 a.m. to study or iron clothes for an hour or two. Some leave television sets on, so the sudden sound will jar them from sleep.
At all levels of Haitian society, people say the darkness heightens their worries about crime. Urban thievery has increased greatly in the absence of a functioning police force.
"You're afraid to go out," said Mr. Dereval. "You never know who's going to attack you."
Only the most prosperous Haitians and foreigners can afford generators and the fuel that keeps houses lighted and cool.
When Harri Reimers sits on his darkened rooftop, he can see distant homes full of bright lights in well-to-do Petionville. But for most Haitians, the bright lights are inaccessible.
Mr. Reimers is a civil engineer who works in a government office that has no power source. It means no fans, with temperatures reaching the 90s. It means driving three miles to headquarters to use a computer or make a photocopy.
Similar energy troubles afflict all sectors of Haiti's economy.
A food counter can't keep vegetables fresh. A carpenter can't feed his five children because many of his tools require power.
Businesses must factor the high cost of generator fuel into their prices.
"If I'm thinking of starting a new business and there's no power," said a foreign adviser, "I'll think twice."
Electricite d'Haiti, the state-owned power company, is notorious for corruption and mismanagement. Grossly over-staffed, it has proven bad at delivering electricity and bad at collecting revenue when it does.
"It's basically bankrupt," said one diplomat.
The electrical supply in Port-au-Prince is dependent on two sources, both unreliable: One is the dam at Peligre, which produces 50 megawatts after the summer rains and less than 10 megawatts during the winter dry spell. The other is a series of battered turbines in Port-au-Prince.
By consensus, Port-au-Prince would need 100-110 megawatts of power to maintain a relatively steady current. These days, the capital gets barely 30 megawatts.
Father Aristide recognized the political importance of electricity. He wanted to deliver results to the long-suffering poor and to curry support among the country's business elite, which had largely been hostile to his presidency.
In December, he turned to his American benefactors. A misunderstanding led to problems.
Deputy Defense Secretary John Deutch promised to help. Yet precisely what he promised soon became the subject of intense discussion everywhere from the Haitian Cabinet to the international financial community.
The Americans understood that they would provide fuel for a set length of time, while the Haitians understood that the Americans would ensure the supply of electricity, whatever it took.
Buoyed by his talk with Mr. Deutch, Father Aristide announced a guarantee of electrical power to business leaders gathered at the Kenam Hotel in Petionville.
It would be "electricity a go-go," he said enthusiastically. Two people who attended the dinner recall that the audience clapped heartily.
Later, when it became clear that the Americans were not guaranteeing the power supply, Father Aristide felt stung. He had staked his reputation on what he understood to be an American promise.
French mechanics are hurrying to overhaul the turbines. The Canadian government will donate 14 two-megawatt generators, due late this month, just in time for carnival season.