Growing up Gringo: Hispaniola

As mentioned in the first post, the relationship between Haiti and the Dominican Republic is a turbulent one. There are many Haitians who work in western provinces of the DR, Monte Cristi included, and they are willing to work for lower wages than their Dominican counterparts. Over half of the 14 bateys that I travel to with Dr. Garcia are populated completely by Haitian workers. In this sense, the relationship between Haitians and Dominicans is similar to that of Mexicans immigrants and Americans. Many lower class Dominicans resent the influx of cheap Haitian labor. Although this economic situation explains some of the tensions on the border provinces, the long and bloody history of Hispaniola has been rife with antihaitianismo, and the racial prejudice that you currently find in the DR represents the confluence of a number of different historical factors. Here's a good article explaining some of this history. Here are some of the key moments:

Christopher Columbus lands on December 5th, 1492, and comes back for a second voyage in 1494. It is on this second trip that he instituted a policy of genocide towards the Tainos, the native people. He seizes 1,200 Tainos from the island and takes them back to Spain. Hundreds die on the journey, the rest are sold as slaves in Seville. All the Taino people on the island are then enslaved and ordered to bring gold to the Spaniards. Those who resisted were killed. In 2 1/2 years after his arrival, 250,000 Tainos are killed. Within 60 years the indigenous population is extinct. (Source, Source, Source). Why do we have a Columbus Day? Anyways, Santo Domingo is officially founded in 1898. Slaves were imported from Africa, and the white elite ruled over the slaves and creoles in the plantations.
The French arrive in the 18th century and establish Saint-Domingue in the west. They import half a million African slaves and quickly begin expanding on the island. The first steps in Dominican nationalism occur, orchestrated by Spanish colonists worried about losing control of their territory.
Hispanic elites lose control in 1795 when the island is officially ceded to the French. A cultural clash occurs between the nascent Hispanic nationalism and the French/African influence.
Haiti declares independence from France in 1804, becoming the world's first black republic. Spain regains control of Santo Domingo in 1808. Haitian leaders set their eyes on gaining control of Santo Domingo, but not before the Dominicans declared independence from Spain in 1821. 9 weeks later Jean-Pierre Boyer, president of Haiti, invades the DR. He promptly strips Hispanic elites of much of their property and privileges. Many of these leaders were disgusted by the fact that Haitians of a darker skin color, many of whom were ex-slaves, were now ruling over them.
As part of the independence movement, Hispanic elites and intellectuals, still with networks of power in the east, stirred up anti-Haitian sentiments, separating themselves from Haitians based upon cultural and racial lines. They venerated their Iberian Catholic heritage and rejected the conspicuous African roots in Haitian culture, most notably the voudou practices.
Dominicans declared independence from Haitian rule in 1844. Hispanic elites take over government, and the intellectual culture within this class conditions a classification of Dominicans as white and Haitians as black. Race defines nationality. A slew of nationalist literature follows.
It seemed that tensions between Haiti and the DR cooled in the post-independence period, especially after the Haitian government support Dominican revolutionaries when Spain gained control of the government in 1861. In 1865 the Dominicans re-gained independence, and the new president, General Ulises Heureaux, was actually of Haitian descent.
Antihaitianismo resurged during the dictatorship of Rafael Trujillo, beginning in 1931. In 1937 Trujillo ordered the execution of 17,000 to 35,000 Haitians in what became known as the Parsley Massacre. The motivations for this massacre are a good starting point for talking about the modern DR/Haiti conflict. Trujillo wanted to establish a clearly defined border with Haiti. Citing widespread theft of cattle and crops in the borderlands, Trujillo mobilized his army to the border and began the slaughter. While theft likely did occur, Trujillo used this reason as a cover for a different problem. Haiti was and still is densely populated (currently 758 ppl/sq mile), with little arable land (above 90% now deforested). In order to survive many Haitians on the border migrated to the western provinces of the DR. Without adequate infrastructure connecting rural lands on the border with the larger cities in the DR, borderland Dominicans survived on trade with Haitians. Trujillo feared that the rising population of Haitians in the western provinces along with the increased trade would allow Haitian leaders to claim the provinces as their own. This would not be good for Trujillo's dictatorship, given the incredible wealth produced by the agriculture in these regions, a wealth that ironically was augmented by the cheap Haitian labor Trujillo attempted to exterminate. In the wake of the Parsley massacre Trujillo recruited writers like Joaquín Balaguer to reinforce the party line of antihaitianismo. Trujillo also crafted manuals for rural mayors in the borderlands where he cautioned them to prevent the corruptiing influence of Haitians in their cities.

(Check out the book Why the Cocks Fight: Dominicans, Haitians, and the Struggle for Hispaniola by Michele Wucker for more information. We have a copy here at the Institute that I have glanced through, it's got some good information on the conflict.)

In the wake of Trujillo, antihaitianismo still exists in the DR. I notice it in some (not all) of the youth here in the way they talk about Haitians. For example I was sitting in the park outside the Institute yesterday reading Mountains beyond Mountains by Tracy Kidder, a great book on the life of Paul Farmer, a doctor who has worked extensively in Haiti and other third world countries. The little girls asked me what I was reading and I told them about Farmer, and when I said he worked in Haiti one of them says, "Eww Haiti, why would he work in Haiti?" I tried to tell her that the people there are very poor and they need help, but at age 8 I don't think she cares too much about economic situation in Haiti (not that the situation in Montecristi is that great either), and she lost interest in the conversation. I'm not sure if the discrimination against Haitians is getting better or worse here. Certainly the immigration of Haitian workers fans the flames of resentment in some areas of the country, but I wonder if the prejudice is as strong in the eastern provinces.
Learning about the history of antihaitianismo has helped to deflate my romanticized perception of the Dominican people. I think it's easy, for me at least, to glorify a culture that is full of such welcoming people. But there is a dark side to the Dominican culture, just like with any culture, and it's important to recognize that. No culture is perfect, and it is in the cultural intercambio (exchange) that we can refine and evolve our set of ethics. I think this is what Alasdair Macyntire, a famous Notre Dame philosopher, is getting at in his magnum opus, After Virtue. People from different cultures should approach each other with an open-minded attitude towards learning about others and in the process themselves.
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Okay, done with my rambling, back to the reason for this post.
Last friday, as well as the first Friday I was here, we went to Dajabon, a border city (and province) about 45 minutes away from Montecristi. Every Monday and Friday the Dominican government, with lots of help from U.N. forces, opens the border with Haiti and allows the Haitians to come purchase goods in an enormous market which seems to take up about half of the city. Many of the goods can't be purchased in Haiti, and even if they can they are much more expensive, so people cross the border to buy products both for themselves and to sell them to other Haitians at a profit. The market is very chaotic and can be quite a jarring experience if you are not prepared for it.

The first time we entered the market I was immediately overwhelmed by the noxious combination of what smelled like burnt garbage, urine, and a city in serious need of deodorant. I was already feeling a bit rumbly in my tumbly from some food I had eaten the day before at a dodgy restaurant in Montecristi, so my mood then went from sour to downright rotten. On top of the odor, I was surrounded by what felt an angry mob of Haitians, all yelling at me in Haitian Creole to get out of the way. You are liable to get run over if you stand in the middle of the main street, as an endless line of Haitians moves towards the bridge of the city with sacks and sacks of basic goods loaded into wheelbarrows and a smorgasbord of other wheeled contraptions. If you don't get lucky enough to be run over, then maybe you'll just get burnt by one of the tailpipes of the motorcycles pushing through the crowd, with drivers abusing the horn (by the way, Dominicans love using the horn, and in the time it just took to write this parenthetical remark I have heard several honks from outside the Institute), outraged that other people might need to use the street. The most dangerous part of walking through Dajabon though has to be the pickpockets. On my first trip I brought my camera, wallet, and a small notepad, and I had them all zipped up in the pockets of my cargo shorts. The pickpockets must have seen this tactic before, because it took all of about 10 seconds in the crowded market before my pockets became unzipped. I was amazed. How did they do that so sneakily? Luckily nothing was stolen, but I still had another 30 minutes of walking through the Haitian market, and the entire time I kept my hands on my zippers, crouching over awkwardly as I hobbled through the main street. 10 minutes later we were at the bridge, which is protected by U.N. peacekeepers, mostly from Uruguay. It was a nice break from the chaos. We stood on the sides of the bridge watching the gauntlet of sweaty bodies pass furiously in both directions. This market is only open 2 days a week, from 9 to 2ish, and in this span of time many of these traders make most of their money for the week. There is no dawdling in Dajabon.

The bridge was a break from walking, but in no way is it a break from the exercise on the senses. Besides the traders rushing back and forth on the bridge, on the banks of the river below there are Haitian settlements all over the place, and hundreds of Haitians use the river as their washing machine. The cities in the distance look overpopulated and extremely impoverished. A truly forsaken land. The only real reflection I had while on the bridge was that I was standing between the developing world and the so-called Fourth World. The DR has patches of destitution, in places like the bateys and some of the slums in cities, but in Haiti the cities seem to be made up of slums. Everything is poor.

We spent 5 minutes on the bridge and then we were off again, back through the market but this time by another route, a side street that was basically a food market. We worked our way through a maze of blue tarps, tall enough for most Dominicans and Haitians but not quite my height. Right around the time I began worrying about the fact that I was getting free samples of the hair parasites of a town full of people, I had one of the most disgusting experiences of my life. A young boy ran past me and in the process pushed me into this gutter in the middle of the street. My sneaker went into a gooey, black liquid. I couldn't imagine a more bloodcurdling substance. I shuddered at the thought of the hodgepodge of infectious diseases cruising through that evil gutter water. I was just reading the previous day about schistosomiasis, a nasty flatworm parasite. Was I being attacked by a disease I still cannot pronounce? Yuck. To put into perspective how disgusting this water was, when I took my foot out of the gutter and kept walking, the women who sat on the ground tending their stands pushed my leg away from their items, scared I might infect them and their products. The only thing on my mind was, where is some hand sanitizer when you really need it. I rushed to the bus and took off my shoe and sock and began cleaning my leg with heaps of that Purell goodness. We sat in the bus for about 10 minutes, and a group of Haitian boys were tapping at my window offering me Haitian coins in exchange for Dominican pesos. $1= 39 Haitian gourde. Sorry kids, not a good deal for me. They persisted. By the end it shifted from soliciting to demanding. "Deme dinero, ahora!" (give me money, now!). I was ready to get the hell out of Dajabon.

The bus ride back was the first time for me to really think on everything I had seen. It was clear that the others who had come on the trip were having the same moment of reflection; the bus ride was silent, and as I looked around I saw the blank stares of the volunteers, all lost in thought. What were we feeling? First, shock. I had never seen anything like that before. It was truly awesome. Also, sadness. These people live like this every day of their lives. That's truly depressing. Confusion. How did this happen? Was Haiti always like this? What a nightmare. And ultimately regret. By taking a turn to negative town at the beginning I prevented myself from really experiencing the market. I remembered very little of what I actually saw in the market because I was too busy focused on getting out of there. It took a second trip two weeks later, when I was much better prepared to deal with the sights and sounds of Dajabon, for me to really appreciate the experience. And in that second trip I took these pictures. Enjoy. I have written too much already. I'm sure I'll post on Dajabon again.

This guy's a big Alabama fan. In the emotional rollercoaster than is the Dajabon experience, one way my spirits stayed afloat was by the irony of the messages on Haitian t-shirts. A few of my favorites:
"Ask me about the new Blackberry!"
On a skinny older gentleman, an oversized shirt saying "Love is 100% fat friendly."
"I believe in small group education."
"Born in the U.S.A."