Earl Moxam, Senior Gleaner Writer
TWENTY-YEAR-OLD 'Fox' was articulate in his pleas for understanding of his plight. Haiti, he said, was faced with many problems relating to security, food and work. He made it quite clear that he had no desire to return to his homeland and was willing to impress upon all who would listen that he was a budding artiste who could even deejay in French, Spanish, and English.
With that, he launched into his latest creation, a mixture of moods and emotions, from that of the carefree young man extolling the virtues of "all dem sexy gal dem passing by" to the sober recollection of life in Haiti, in which "every day on the street facing life could be the time to give it up".
He had barely finished his rendition however when an un-marked police vehicle pulled up. Deejay lyrics then gave way to rapid-fire instructions to his countrymen in Creole to disappear, whereupon he sprang from his perch on the steps of the shop and, with the other three, melted away into nearby bushes.
WELL-REHEARSED GAME
Two of them did not get very far, however, as the police, almost as if they knew their part in a well-rehearsed game of hide and seek, dived in behind them. First they came back with Joel, who, hardly showing any resistance, was taken to the vehicle to be returned to the camp. He sat stoically in the police unit, awaiting his fate. Another one had made it a short distance away, in the direction of the parish capital, Port Antonio, when his progress was cut short by one of the four officers in pursuit.
Fox, the lyricist, and the fourth young man, were more successful, at least for the moment, however, in eluding their pursuers.
The captures were accomplished without much fanfare on the part of the police: no gun drawn; no shouting. And then off they went, back to the camp.
Earlier, the news team paid a visit to the facility; more accurately, to the gate, where our progress was blocked by a no-nonsense female cop who inquired of our business and then, with feet firmly planted, arms akimbo, declared that we would not be permitted on the premises. Members of the press, it seemed, were not on the 'most-favoured' list of visitors.
It was easy, however, to observe the refugees through the high chain-link fence. Young men were lounging under a tree, in idle chatter; children milled about the yard, some clinging to their mothers; while others rested under tents set up as sleeping quarters. Yet others were being attended by a medical team outside a mobile unit parked on the premises.
No one, it seemed, was in a hurry; no one flustered, including camp administrator, Donovan Moore, who calmly walked down to the gate to speak briefly with us.
ROUTINE
"Things are pretty routine", he said: "Breakfast by 8.15; get them to clean up the bathroom area and their sleeping area after breakfast; then they play games, including dominoes, during the day. Twelve-thirty is time for a light lunch, followed by a more substantial meal at three, and supper at six".
Outside the established routine, the Haitians are free to engage in their own activities, mostly dominoes, we were told. Then by 9 p.m. they turn in except for those who, like our friend, Fox, somehow make their way off the compound for a bit of adventure in the community.
There they are largely welcomed. "I don't have no problem wid de Haitians dem. Dem is black people like we, and dem need help, so we must help dem" one young man said between gulps of his 'box' juice.
Another man, with whom the four Haitians mentioned earlier had been conversing at the shop, expressed strong sympathy for them, "as long as they behave themselves". There was nothing wrong with helping them "with a little food", he said. Further-more, he said, they were ambitious and were anxious to be given an opportunity to find work. This altruistic view of the visitors was, of course, not universal.
ENCOUNTERS
Out in Long Bay, where most of the Haitians arrive by boat, Gilbert Byan, an elderly man who has spent many years in Florida, has been largely influenced by his encounters with Haitians in that state. And it is apparently not a flattering view. His theory is that the boat
captains are engaged in a sophisticated human and drug
smuggling operation, in which the drugs are offloaded unto waiting boats somewhere between Haiti and Jamaica.
"Hardly likely," one police officer responded when we put that theory to him.
Others, like Sonia Thomas, who operates a bar in Long Bay, observed that the Haitians are quite happy to make the trip to Jamaica more than once.
Among the last group to arrive last week, she said, was one man, a repeat visitor, who when he saw a familiar face among the Jamaicans on the beach, gleefully exclaimed:
"See my friend there! I come back again, you know!"
And they keep coming. As of Friday, there were 217 Haitians at the Winnifred rest home 154 males and 63 females, including 43 children. The youngest of these, a boy born eight days ago, has been namd Jamaicson by his parents, in honour of his country of birth.
Information Minister Burchell Whiteman, in the meantime, has admitted that the government is puzzled as to the reason for the renewed influx of Haitians and is seeking answers to this question, as it struggles to cope with the additional burden literally turning up on the country's shores.
FOX'S LYRICS
Fifty-eight Haitians come to Jamaica
Forty are on their way
You're on the street, we'll never be happy now
Every day on the street facing life could be the time to give
it up
All dem sey gal dem passing by; live my life;
let me live my life Now, in Haiti there are many problems
Problem food, problem security
Problem money
Just problems
Yu know what man Ya!
Topic: JAMAICAN DREAMS
