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Haitian roots deepening
By TAMARA LUSH, Times Staff Writer TAMPA -- For Pierre Paul, the move from New York City to Tampa was like coming home. No more cold winters and gray skyline. Paul, who was born and raised in Haiti, was back in the steamy, tropical air that he loved. But one thing was missing: When he arrived in Tampa in 1994, the Haitian community numbered just 8,000 people -- far fewer than in New York. The church he attended here had just 25 members. Then came the migration. In the past several years, the Haitian population in the Tampa Bay area has more than doubled to roughly 20,000. Paul's church has outgrown its building three times. Sunday church services now routinely draw 200 people. "We've got a community growing every day," says Paul, 49. "Tampa is 10,000 times better than New York." Haitians are coming here for the same reasons as everyone else: nice weather, a low cost of living, the desire to be near elderly parents. By all accounts, the community is thriving. Haitian immigrants have opened medical practices in St. Petersburg and small restaurants on Tampa's west side. A 28-year-old Haitian is trying to start the area's second French-Creole FM radio station. A Haitian doctor living in St. Petersburg was chosen to paint this year's theme poster for the Mainsail arts festival. A lilting Creole accent can be heard in at least 20 churches, at a student group of 40 people at the University of South Florida and in countless classrooms in New Tampa. On most Sunday nights, one of Tampa's six Haitian men's soccer teams is playing. Sometimes the teams play each other or Haitian teams from other cities. Usually, though, they play a Mexican or Cuban team in the field adjacent to the Boys and Girls Club of Ybor City. Sometimes, 500 Haitians watch the games. "Every year, I meet new people," says Dr. Ludner Confidant of St. Petersburg, an anesthesiologist and painter who moved to Florida from Haiti in 1975. "The growth is noticed at all levels of the community: professional, nonprofessional and retirees." Shattering stereotypesFor many Floridians, the mention of Haitians conjures up images of desperate people adrift on makeshift rafts and of a population afflicted with AIDS. Those are stereotypes, which Haitians in Tampa face constantly and strive to break each day. "Certainly some of the problems we face originate from the fact that our people come from an underdeveloped country," says Dr. M. Rony Francois, a Haitian who is an assistant professor at USF's department of Environmental and Occupational Health. "To some people, that denotes a sense of emptiness. They have no clue that even in an underdeveloped country you have brilliant people who can rise not only to their level but beyond that." In South Florida, Haitians have gained a measure of political clout, in part because they live in close proximity to each other, most notably in a Miami neighborhood called Little Haiti. In 2000, the Legislature's first Haitian-American member, Democratic Rep. Phillip Brutus, was elected by the voters of Little Haiti. The Tampa Bay area does not have an identifiably Haitian neighborhood. From Sarasota to Tampa and from Wimauma to St. Petersburg, Haitians have settled where they can find jobs and reasonably priced housing. So far, they have amassed no political power. But that may change. Saintil Romelus, a 28-year-old who lives in Tampa, has applied to the federal government for permission to start a French-Creole radio station. Romelus, who drives a truck during the day, wants to broadcast information about U.S. laws and educational opportunities, along with Caribbean music and news of Haiti. He also wants to start a French-Creole public-access TV show for Haitians, and he foresees a day when the community will open its own school and have its own political representatives. "We need a lot of things for our community," Romelus says. What they need most of all is proficiency in English. Non-English speaking Haitians have a far more difficult time in Tampa than they do in South Florida or New York. There is no infrastructure of stores, community groups and resources. Cuban immigrants who settle in Tampa have a wide array of bilingual services available to them. "There are places for Cubans to go, clubs and grocery stores with bilingual clerks," says Dave Schmidt, the manager for adult and community education programs in the Hillsborough school district. "Haitians don't have that luxury." Schmidt runs a program called C.A.R.I.B.E. (Career Recruitment and Instruction in Basic English) that helps refugees from Haiti and Cuba. Four years ago, the program helped 15 Haitians, Schmidt said. Last year, it helped 150. Churches also are helping to fill the vacuum. As has been true for centuries in Haiti, churches are the people's main -- and sometimes only -- source of support and assistance. Pastor Josias Jocelyn of the Pinellas Christian Center in St. Petersburg says his church gets calls every week from Haitians wanting to relocate in the area. He helps them find homes, health insurance and jobs. Many of the church's Haitians work in nursing, hotels or retirement homes. Almost everyone who moves here says Florida reminds them of Haiti, Jocelyn says. "They like it here," he says. Performing with GraceAbout 200 people clap and hoot wildly when the band Grace slides into its first set. The band is crammed onto a makeshift stage, which also doubles as a pulpit for the Assemblie Christianne, a tiny church a few blocks off Nebraska Avenue. The music has a conga beat, gospel Christian lyrics and a soulful trumpet. It is Easter Sunday. Little girls are dressed in frilly, pink taffeta dresses, and their mothers are wearing sharp, jewel-toned suits. The men and boys wear pressed pants and shirts, and a lot of cologne. It is hot inside the tiny room, and the fans are working overtime. No one seems to mind the heat. Instead, members of the all-Haitian crowd dance in their seats and the aisles, while singing along to songs such as Fave Bon Dye (God's Favor) and Padon Segne (Forgive Me). Pierre Paul greets the people in Creole. They respond with wide grins, whistles and loud clapping. Paul is the leader and founder of Grace. He learned to play guitar when he was a teenager in Port-au-Prince. He loved playing the popular Haitian Compas music -- a blend of merengue with a touch of jazz and guitars. But he added a twist: Christian lyrics. When Paul moved to New York, he started a family and worked in a lamp manufacturing business. There was little time for music. When he moved to Tampa, he felt it was God's will for him to play again and to sing the gospel. But he wasn't sure if he would find enough Haitian musicians to help him. The community's startling growth took care of that concern. Paul assembled three singers, a keyboard player, two drummers, a bass player and another guitarist. Their first show was at Paul's church, Assemblie Christianne. That was four years ago. Now Grace plays in Haitian churches all across Florida. During a recent funeral in Tampa for a popular Haitian pastor, Grace played a somber song for 500 people. The group is releasing its second CD this month and plans on going back to Port-au-Prince this summer to play a large Christian revival. Paul, who is a cabdriver during the day, had to cut down on the hours that he drives so he can rehearse and play with Grace. "It's inside you," he says of the Compas music. "It's our rhythm." Clinging to Haitian rootsSix-year-old Ralph Duvers reads aloud from a book as he sits in the corner of the library at Roosevelt Elementary School in South Tampa. Three other children listen. Ralph furrows his brow as he successfully sounds out the word "magical." "Ralph, you are really improving," says Josette Toulme, a Haitian-born woman who volunteers in Tampa schools to help young French-Creole speakers learn English. "You do your words and you call me tonight." Ralph moved to Tampa with his mother from Haiti last year. He spoke no English. Now Ralph is reading and helping to teach his mother English words. The number of children speaking French-Creole in Hillsborough's schools has grown exponentially: In 1992, the district counted 10 Haitian students. In 2001, there were 304. Like many immigrant populations, Haitian families place a high premium on learning. The kids -- especially those who don't speak English when they arrive -- soak up the language like sponges. "Everything amazes them," Toulme says. "They adjust really well." Many of the new Haitians in Tampa are under 30, which means they are marrying and starting families. Their children represent a new generation of Haitian-Americans, and Toulme is determined that the young don't forget the island's rich heritage. Toulme, 74, is president of the Haitian Association Foundation of Tampa Bay. She spends her days teaching English to young Haitians and speaking French to her grandchildren. In her off time, she is helping to organize the annual Haitian Flag Day celebration, set for May 18 at Our Lady of Perpetual Help Catholic Church in Ybor City. Toulme also is trying to work with city officials to obtain a low-cost building for the association; the group hopes to hold informational meetings, cultural events and health care clinics there. Toulme moved to Tampa in 1974 and has watched the Haitian community grow from a handful of professionals to a diverse population. People from Haiti will continue to arrive in Tampa as long as the island country continues to face political strife, poverty and a shortage of educational opportunities, Toulme says. "We're coming here like everyone else came," said Toulme. "For better opportunities. There are no opportunities in Haiti." -- Times researcher John Martin contributed to this report.
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