IT IS unseasonably chilly, requiring a light jumper, but it's still brightly sunny in Florida. Fresh oranges are still available on every corner, and healthy lemon trees still dot the backyards of modest homes in Miami's Little Haiti, reports ELAINE LAFFERTYin southwest Florida
Today, that Caribbean island’s vast diaspora is haunted by the darkest of screen images, the dire reports in the papers. Maybe worse though is the bleak silence of their mobile phones, the lack of contact with relatives, the simple not knowing who is dead or alive or dying.
“No Haitians slept last night, “Sherly Figaro, who has 10 relatives in Port Au Prince, told a reporter from the News Press. “My family may be killed.”
Hailing from this largely Catholic nation, one that also hosts a religious tradition of voodoo, they are calling on both saints and spirits to protect and save their loved ones who are missing or homeless after Tuesday’s devastating earthquake.
Across Florida this week, prayer vigils were held in Catholic churches. On Wednesday night a special prayer Mass was held at Saint Peter the Apostle Catholic Church in Naples.
One priest who had called the Mass was too distraught to conduct it, as he feared his mother was dead. Over 100 people showed up, many still in the dark about any news.
“I try to call my sister. Nothing. I tried to call my brother. Nothing, said Neraila Nord.
There are an estimated 530,00 Haitians living in the US, and at least 15 0,000 or those are concentrated in Southwest Florida.
The cultural heart of the diaspora is Little Haiti, an area north of downtown Miami where the tight knit community, somewhat loathe to assimilate into purely American culture, still supports a neighbourhood of colourful wall murals, Creole restaurants serving griot or fried pork, and botanica shops featuring unusual herbs, candles and figurines of secret saints.
Little Haiti, however, is a dangerous place, where crime is rampant and 80 per cent of the population lives below the poverty line. These are people accustomed to praying for better times, but most live in circumstances far better than their native country; Haitians in the US send an estimated $1.8 billion dollars back home each year, hoping to provide basics for their families. But nobody was prepared for disaster on this scale.
In Miami, hundreds gathered at Notre Dame d’Haiti Catholic Church.
“I have a cousin and plenty of family in Haiti,” Rose Micheline-St Jean told a television reporter, “And I haven’t heard from anyone.”
“It’s the worst pain of not knowing whether your loved ones, babies, grandmothers, fathers, sisters, cousins, are alive,” said Haitian activist Marlene Bastien.
“See my eyes?” said Myrlene Bernard, who has family there. “They are swelled from crying. I have not ate, I have not slept.”
And so they are waiting. In Pembroke Pines, a supermarket ran out of telephone calling cards to Haiti as customers bought out the entire stock.
Meanwhile, some are gathered at airports, waiting for news. On Wednesday night in Fort Lauderdale, a plane chartered by the University of Miami brought seven injured patients back from Haiti, including one child and one military officer who had been pulled from the rubble of a collapsed building. Four were in a serious condition.
Is there hope for those still trapped? Experts say yes, but only for another two days.