Living in Miami for the past 26 years I have seen the development of a large bedroom community next door, a neighborhood bearing the name of MIRAMAR. It consists of hundreds if not thousands of residents, natives,immigrants,refugees, Cubans, Hispanics, Black and White Americans, Haitians and others, a melting pot having approximately 129 different ethnic cultures and pigmentations. A typical American middle and upper middle class calls it, home sweet home.
MIRAMAR, may have been the name which I suppose was chosen for this Floridian neighborhood by the nostalgic exiled Cuban residents and refugees, in remembrance of their original neighborhood in Havana also called MIRAMAR. I only wish, just for the name’s sake, that Kendall, where I live in greater Miami, was called MIRAMAR, which to me is a softer more attractive name, meaning "seaview," in Spanish, although such a view is non existant in Kendall or Floridian MIRAMAR. As a matter of fact not in Havana’s MIRAMAR either.
CUBA’S MIRAMAR
In the 1950s I resided in that original neighborhood of MIRAMAR in the upper class suburbs of Havana, Cuba. As a very young man these were the days of wine, roses and songs in beautiful Havana which used to be called the Paris of the Americas. Havana in those days had more than a dozen daily newspapers and a democratically elected president by the name of Carlos Prio Socaras. Nightlife was thriving and Miami was a sleepily segregated village with Miami Beach that had a more active night life and local tourists.
Carlos Prio, before he finished his presidential mandate, was overthrown by Cuban Army’s strong man Fulgencio Batista y Zaldivar returning from a golden exile in Miami Beach. This was March 10, 1952, 6 years before the 26th of July Movement revolution that would bring Fidel Castro to power until today.
This revolution was predicted then in a poem called "Lola" written by Roussan Camille, a well known Haitian activist and writer. Fidel Casro considered him a political ally and in the heydays of the revolution in 1959 Castro welcomed Roussan as a friend in touching words, in a postcard that he wrote to him. Camille died in 1961. Anyone interested should see Mario L. Delatour’s video: "40 Years Later, Roussan Camille."
As a resident of Havana, Cuba with my household at the Haitian Embassy, on March 10, 1952, I was a witness to History when Batista’s military coup occurred. In the beginning of January 1959, this time as a political refugee, I was again back in Cuba to witness Fidel Castro’s triumphant overthrow of Fulgencio Batista.
The Haitian Embassy was located in Calle 22, MIRAMAR, not far from the famous Tropicana night club. My elder brother Marcel was the Haitian Ambassador residing in a mansion located in the corner of Calle 22 in Miramar with a wife, five children, a sister-in-law, myself and a personnel of four.
José, the embassy’s driver, would go home at the end of the day. Rosita, a Haitian cordon bleu, was the revered Chef, Edith was the housekeeper, and Angel the yard’s keeper and the meal server, all resided permanently at the embassy. A romance took place between Angel and Edith resulting in her pregnancy, and being born in Cuba a child of this union today, would be acceptable by the ridiculous U.S. policy for refugees, in favor of Cuban immigrants arriving in Miami, but excluding Haitians and others.
A Castillan lady professor would come at the embassy at 9.30 in the morning to teach me the Spanish language and other courses. Her Spanish was flawless and easily understood.
The Embassy’s doctor was Antonio Nasser, an Arab-Cuban who also spoke Haitian creole due to his Haitian-Arab cousins who lived in Haiti, and he was like a family member. Antonio loved to come by the embassy just before lunch for cocktails. He became my friend, which was not difficult with already an affection I have always had for doctors, which had begun at an early age.
My godfather is the late prominent Dr. Joseph Buteau whom I was privileged of having as a doctor since birth, and who became Secretary of State for interim president Daniel Fignolé, a popular figure in Haitian politics; there is a special aura about those in the medical profession.
Life in the Haitian embassy in Havana in those days was structured and disciplined. From Monday to Friday it began early by sunset with breakfast served in the dining room. By 9 a.m. errands were run, children were taken care of by Edith the housekeeper. José the chauffeur, dressed in a resplendent blue uniform, gold buttons, and his eternal cap on a cheerful face and a large black moustache was available for errands or a chat. The blue Chrysler was in the driveway and José kept it immaculately clean.
The Embassy had its offices attached to the main house, a compound made of three large rooms. The main one for the Ambassador. The Ambassador was seated at his desk every week day morning punctually by 09.00, and would not leave except for an emergency until 1300 for lunch. Marcel would lead by example by being on time, and he expected the same from the Diplomatic staff to be seated at their desks on schedule.
Marcel was an impressive figure as an Ambassador with his cigarette holder "à la FDR," and a no nonsense attitude. He took his job seriously as a Harvard man and eldest son of a political family. After serving in Cuba for a couple of years, Marcel moved on to Haiti to become Minister of the Presidency an then Minister Commerce. One of his daughters, Marie-Claude Bayard, lately involved in a controversy of double nationality in Haiti, almost followed on his footsteps.
Every year, for Haitian Independence day January 1st 1804, Marcel would make a speeech on the radio in flawless Spanish to the Cuban people in the interest of Haitian-Cuban unity. Haiti then was certainly represented with pride, and José the Cuban chauffeur would love to be part of the daily protocol of opening the door of his immaculately kept Chrislyer, and have the Haitian ambassador sit proudly in it with his panama hat on. Those were the days of roses and wines, days of pomp, grandeur and ceremonies.
The other room had three desks. The bigger one was for the Consul General Jacques Désinor, my ex-teacher at Petit-Séminaire Collège St. Martial when I was 13 years of age. Jacques and I had an affection for each other, due to memories of the 1946 revolution when he was hit by a rock in the face while teaching us, his students, a French class. An angry mob outside was requesting that he close the classroom. A brave man, Jacques, his face bleeding reacted by throwing rocks back at them. Gérard Daumec, (a future poet who would eventually develop a close kinship with Papa Doc) and myself joined our beleagured teacher in this endeavor. Jacques and I, from teacher to pupil, we became friends in Havana.
The other desk was occupied by the First Secretary of the Embassy Gérard Nau. Gérard was a friendly fellow with a serious side about him, and we saw each other again in Haiti under the regime of Jean-Claude Duvalier at the Hotel Choucoune, where he occupied a position in management. At the third desk was seated the Ambassador’s sister-in-law, Denise Roy, who was an efficient administrative assistant. Denise was also a brilliant intellectual and wrote poems on her nom de plume of "Sor-Mée." She died at a fairly young age.
Weekends in Havana were impressive for the famous in the uptown fabulous casinos, restaurant and night clubs like the Tropicana and unique floor shows. Latin music was in all its glory. On Saturdays it was the traditional night life, and on Sundays pleasant moments of relaxation on wonderful Varadero beach, more than an hour by car or bus from Havana. One of my favorite guides on Sundays was elderly retired Cuban Army Colonel José Reposo. He had a love for Cuban history and would tell me some interesting tales about Cuba and its proud people.
Weekends on Saturday night were also exciting for the less famous in the "barrios" of Habana Viejo" Old Havana, like in the Chinese quarters known as Shangai.I did enjoy that part of the city where my pride and joy were to be talking in Spanish to the friendly ordinary Cuban people, thanks to my Castillan lady instructor at the embassy during the week.
Gone with the wind… Although prosperous on the surface, a revolution was in the making in Cuba but no one dreamed of such an outcome. To quote U.S. Marines Corps Major Larry James in his "Foreign Policy’s" article "The Spirit of Moncada 1953-1959" published by Marine Corps Command and Staff College, April 1, 1984:
"In the early 1950's there were many Cubans who believed that their country was in the midst of a gradual revolution that had begun as early as 1930. Political and economic upheaval and social rebellion had become commonplace and expected throughout Cuban society.
Most viewed this process as disruptive, but nonetheless necessary if Cuba was ever to attain constitutionality and honest government. Among those Cubans was Fidel Castro, a young lawyer just entering practice. Having earned an early reputation as a champion of the oppressed and underprivileged, Castro was anxious to use his political skills to harness and guide the Cuban revolutionary spirit. The spirit was crushed, however, when Fulgencio Batista seized control of the Cuban government in 1952.
The insurrection which Castro orchestrated between 1953 and 1959 wad designed to revitalize the interrupted Cuban revolution and install Fidel Castro as its epicenter.
In 1953, the population of Cuba was estimated to be 30 percent white (mainly Creole), 20 percent mestizo (racially mixed), 49 percent black and one percent oriental. While a certain degree of racial discrimination and segregation was practiced in Cuba prior to the 1950's, race generally did not play a major causative role in any of the Cuban insurrections. Race, as an issue, was largely overshadowed by the existing class system.
The upper-class, which was almost exclusively white, excluded nonwhites from its schools and clubs. Upper-middle-class whites generally avoided any type of contact with nonwhites except as in employer-employee relationships. Nonwhites were usually underrepresented in most professional clubs. Usually the only way nonwhites could gain any social prestige was through memberships in nonwhite societies, labor unions, or the Communist Party." (U.S. Marines Corps Major Larry James.)
The American corporate presence was strong and corrupt. The racist tradition of the USA of those days was firmly transplanted in Havana. Segregation was more subtle but it existed. President Batista, himself of mixed blood, was not accepted in some private clubs. Gambling was in the hands of the American mafia. A good portion of the poor could not fend for themselves, and abuses of power and privileges by the establishment provoked outcries among the less fortunate.. An important part of the peasant population could not read or write…
Let us turn the clock 46 years later to the present day in Cuba and Haiti. We are living in different times but some old habits have not changed. Fidel Castro, who was received as a savior, did a lot to improve the health and education of his people. He is still a hero to millions of people, However, he has become a "caudillo," a dictator. He still has a charismatic approach admired in many parts of the world, but the reality is that over a million Cubans are either in exile or in jail.
In Haiti, from 1946 to the present, the racist light skinned government of president Elie Lescot’s, in power since 1941, was overthrown to be replaced by Black presidents until today. President Estimé was the first elected Black president since 1915, elected in 1946, and he did try to improve the country’s economy by having the World’s Fair in Port-au-Prince in 1948. However, Estimé also tried to change the constitution which did not allow him to be re-elected for an immediate second term.
A government led mob destroyed the Senate offices, due to a majority of senators who voted against an amendment to the constitution, my father included, along with prominent senators like Emile St. Lot and Louis Déjoie. Estimé was overtrown and replaced by Haitian Army man Paul E. Magloire.
Magloire was elected for 6 years and with his 6 years over, like Estimé, he tried to cling to power. Magloire in turn was overthrown to be replaced by 29 years of Papa Doc "for life" and Baby Doc. Eventually Jean-Bertrand Aristide was elected twice and due to turmoil in the country, he was exiled to South Africa February 29, 2004. For the past year Haiti has had an interim government and elections are due in November of 2005.
As an observer of Haitian history living in Miami for the past 26 years I have been a witness to changes, and other times to "the more things change the more they stay the same" syndrome. I welcome the changes in my personal life where I have been blessed with the company of young and less young people, of all races and economic levels, who are the future of this planet.
Before it’s too late I must name a few like Myriam Nader, Woodring St. Preux, Michel Petithomme, Prosper Sylvain, Eveline Pierre, Serge Rodrigue, Urbain Joseph, Soledad and Alain Foucault, Rachel Denis, Marcel Alexis, Georges Saati, Manny Ardouin, Weston Etienne, Georges Bossous and so many others who are the hope for a better world. I have been comforted also by new friends of all political persuasion, some in my generation and older ones who still are keepting the faith. It would take pages to name them all.
On the other hand, what a disappointment in some young and older Haitians on the internet and elsewhere, who still are cultivating the politics of class and and color division which have not taken Haiti anywhere in 200 years. They have not learned from the past and refuse to move on…. Hope springs eternal…
IN MY OPINION…
When I relocated from New York City (where I lived for over 20 years) to Florida, I was told by some New Yorker friends that going to Miami was not an option with all "those Cubans" taking it over. It is of the utmost importance for all of us humans to practice what we preach and have tolerance towards each other.
In Haiti and in Haitian culture, intolerance is a way of life in the quagmire of class, color, and among rich and poor.
It is true that Haiti was the first Black country in the world which freed itself from slavery imposed by the white race. This was in 1804 and we are presently in 2005, over 200 years ago.
Like Dr. King would say, the children of slaves and slave owners must finally get together and judge each other not by the color of their skins but by the content of their character….
The last 200 years in Haiti have been miserable for the Haitian people, regardless if they had black or mulatto rulers… It is time to move on.
