04.23.2011
An Island Divided: Haiti & Dominican Republic
The sugar cane fields of Los Cañaverales are acres upon acres of tall bamboo-like plants that create one of the sweetest tastes on earth. As we whizz past them on a narrow highway their vibrant green leaves lazily wave at me, trying to reach up and touch the cloudless blue sky. My family and I smile at the beauty of the sugar cane fields as we travel from Punta Cana to Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic because we had recently moved to Punta Cana for my father’s new job.
We make these excursions from Punta Cana to Santo Domingo, the capital of the Dominican Republic, two or three times a month to visit family, shop for food, or tighten my braces. It was one of the happiest family bonding times we had as we rushed by all the greenery, singing and laughing and playing memory games. Every once in a while we’d see a dark blur hacking away with its machete at the sugar cane trying to get to its stalk. I never once thought twice about these workers, all of them who are Haitian, as they worked endlessly under the hard sun every day before they returned to returned at night to their bateyes, which are little communities of one-room, wood houses covered by light, zinc roofs.
After living in Punta Cana for a few weeks I ask my classmates why it seemed that Haitians were the only ones working out in the sugar cane fields, or doing construction in Santo Domingo. They laugh at me and one of them makes a snide joke about the Haitians working on the house next door that is under construction. I am confused yet say nothing. These are not the kind people I associated with the typical warm and friendly Dominican culture so I just ignored it and continued talking. However, soon afterwards I heard a classmate say to another student, “You’re such a Haitian,” as a clear and direct insult.
In the evenings as I walked my dog I’d see the flickering fires at night where tall apartment towers were being built. It is at dusk when the Haitian construction workers are finally allowed to stop working. As a large group, every man then walks to the mini-markets to buy a little food with their meager daily pay. I occasionally say hello in French or Spanish but they just look at me funny and shuffle away. After several attempts I just stop doing it. They viewed me as a Dominican and alienated themselves from me. Even Maxime, the Haitian man who watered the neighborhood lawns always looked behind his shoulder when my family offered him a glass of cool water. The last time I checked offering a working man a glass of water was not a crime. We continue to give Maxime refreshments until one day he just disappeared and we never saw him again.
My eyes are truly opened to the relationship between Dominicans and Haitians in History class when we learned about Rafael Trujillo, a Dominican dictator, who ordered the death of tens of thousands of Haitians that lived in the Dominican Republic. This was mockingly remembered as El Massacre del Perejil, the parsley massacre, based on the fact that Haitians had trouble saying perejil. In reality it was more of a genocide than a massacre with an estimated 15,000 Haitians dead. As a dictator, Trujillo did not treat many people well, especially those who were against his rule. But, the fact that massacre is remembered as one of the best things Trujillo in my history class sheds light on the public and widespread divisions between these two groups of people who share one large and beautiful island.
The Haitian children that are born in the sugar cane fields exist without any legal papers. According to the 2010 Constitution of the Dominican Republic, Article 18, a Dominican is any who is “born on national territory, with the exception of the children of aliens who are in transit or reside ilegally on national territory.” Since most Haitians are smuggled illegaly across the border, any children that are born after the 2010 Constitution was written are not Dominicans nor Haitians. They have no identity and no official record of being born, therefore they will never be able to travel back to Haiti unless they are smuggled back across the border. Children get only the most basic elementary education and are technically not allowed to work in the field until they are 18, however since they have no documents that state their age they might be out in the sugar cane fields working at a much earlier age.
The documentary, The Price of Sugar, shows the industry’s labor practices as a form of slavery in the sugar cane fields. Haitians that live in Haiti are basically signing up for an indentured servitude in the Dominican Republic. Stripped of any official documents, the Haitians are illegally smuggled across the border in the dead of night and according to the documentary, Haitians were paid less than a dollar a day and with no healthcare. They receive most of their nutrients from gnawing on pieces of the sugar cane. Heaven forbid they get injured because no Dominican doctor would ever venture into the sugar cane fields to help a Haitian.
The difference between Haitians and Dominicans is not that great when comparing both countries. Both nations have ripped up their own constitutions to create a new one (or thirty-eight like the Dominican Republic has) and the governments in both countries are recognized as corrupt throughout the international community. The public education system of the Dominican Republic is subpar however it is slighly better and more organized than that of Haiti’s. In terms of resources, the Dominicans are a lot luckier with fertile soil as opposed to Haiti, which suffers from massive deforestation and an erosion of the top soil. Before the 2010 earthquake, only 45% of the rural population in Haiti has pure drinking water. Reports show that there is no way to access accurate information on this statisic more than a year later.
In 2010 a devastating earthquake in Haiti took more than Haitian 100,000 lives and left many more stranded homeless. However, there was one positive consequence. An island long divided briefly joined hands to support each other through this crises. Though I was not living there at the time, the family that I had in the Dominican Republic as well as many of my old classmates helped support the Haitian victims. At my old school a canned food drive was held as well as any clothes and money donations that people could give. Relationships between Haitians and Dominicans improved for a while, as an island of two for a short time became one.
On my way to and from Punta Cana, the sugar cane fields do not seem as vibrant. They no longer wave at me but desperately try to hide their secrets. I sadly stare at them knowing that there was not much I could do. Dominican politicians are off embezzling public funds and besides, it’s not like they care for Haitian rights. However, I still try to change some people’s mindset about Haitians. I urged my classmates to drop their racist jokes and that we inhabit the same island and need to start getting along. Besides, if they got rid of Haitians as many of them wish, who would construct their apartment towers or cut the cane in the field? Most importantly I went back to saying my greetings whenever I encountered a Haitian on the street. After all, a little kindness can go a long way and we need to start somewhere.
UYL,
Andre
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