Speak up!
Swallowed
For our heroine, Haiti is an acquired taste some are still trying to acquire, like a sweet chardonnay or a deep merlot.
A dame, a bottle and a story.
2/22/2010
If you live in my Miami, you are Haitian in some way. You’ve eaten griot or diri ak djon djon (Haitian fried pork or black rice). If you’re like me, maybe you love pairing Haitian food with wine - Chef Creole’s fried fish dinner with an Alsatian Gewürztraminer, Cava or even a sweet-spiced Pinot Noir from Willamette Valley.
Maybe, you’ve listened to that Kreyol drawl as its skids across its French base like a Porsche on a slippery mountain. You hear it in the grocery lines, at the doctor’s office, at the Flea Market and pulsating from your neighbor’s house. Maybe, a Haitian nurse is caring for your elderly mother. Maybe, your mayor is Haitian. Maybe, the old lady you buy sugarcane from on Northeast 54th Street and 2nd Avenue is Haitian. Maybe, the valet guy who parked your car at the Hard Rock Seminole Casino is Haitian. Maybe your cardiologist is Haitian. Maybe, the nerdy girl in your Poli Sci study group is Haitian. Maybe, you’ve danced with the sea of gyrating, red, white and blue flags during the Compas Festival. Maybe, you didn’t know that the gorgeous, peacock-colored mermaid hanging on your wall was painted by a Haitian artist.
Or maybe, you’ve rolled your eyes as a Haitian flag-flanked Hummer zoomed by you during Haitian Flag day (If they’re so damn proud, why don’t they move back). Or maybe, you’ve silently cursed out that Haitian woman whose Kreyol-soaked accent makes it difficult for you to understand what she’s saying about your checking account or your student loan. Maybe, back in the days, you used the phrase, “Cat Eater.”
In Miami, Haiti is not a country. It is a rhythm - a tireless, rhythm, a sexy music, a provocative painting and a relentless cause. For some, it’s a strange voodoo, an uncomfortable feeling, a torn anthem and an invasion. Haiti is an acquired taste some are still trying to acquire. But why is that?
I recently had lunch with a friend (Roy) - a New York-based geographer - to discuss the matter. I told him how when I first started pitching stories to food magazines about Miami’s Haitian culinary experience, they seemed unnerved. One editor told me she didn’t think any of the reputable magazines would be interested.
As Roy and I chatted, it was clear he was uncomfortable with his glass of 2005 Robert Mondavi Winery Napa Valley Chardonnay. His eyes squinted like he bit into a lime. He couldn’t swallow. He even grunted a little, but he was so determined to like it. “It’s good,” he said.
I liked it - apple crisp and papaya aromas romped with Madagascar vanilla cream flavors that ended in a jalapeño finish. The aftertaste was a little weird, but the lush, creamy body was yum.
It annoyed me that Roy would rather struggle through his Chardonnay ordeal than just say that he didn’t like it, that he’d rather a Guinness. I knew he wanted to impress me, but nothing is sexier than the truth. Or do I really believe that?
As we sipped, CNN dropped more earthquake fatality numbers, and we were now at 200,000. I thought about my friends’ missing families - bodies swallowed by an earth they trusted. Roy and I continued our conversation:
“What do you think about what that minister-guy said about the Haitians and the pack they made with the devil regarding getting the French off their land?”
“I think he’s insensitive. P.S. If I was a slave, I’m quite sure I would have made a few pacts.”
“How’s the vibe been in Miami?”
“While I was in a public bathroom, a woman asked me how my family was. I immediately and curtly responded, ‘I’m Jamaican.’ I felt weird about my answer. What difference does it make?”
“But you’re not Haitian?”
“But, aren’t I? I look at those women, and I see my aunts, my grandmother, my mother…I’m ashamed of being so categorical - black, white, Haitian, Irish. Categorization just deep throats humanity.”
“Only writers can getaway with saying s#!& like that,” he laughed.
One day while I was at North Miami’s Crown Wine & Spirits, a white couple was discussing the Haitian earthquake occasionally looking back at me as they chose their words carefully:
“Did you hear about that Haitian thing?”
"Yeah…that’shh…”
“How, um…”
“Bazaar…”
“Yeah…”
I sipped wine with the disheveled, maltese-looking chap positioned at the wine sample station as usual - his conversation deep, his gums deep purple. He said he hated Merlot. Said it was too bitter, yet there we stood drinking Merlot together.
“So, are you Haitian?,” he asked.
“Yes.”
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What you said
In this article, you really did a great job in capturing both sides of the “Haitian Experience” in South Florida, so much so that at times, I wasn’t sure which side you were on (not that you have to take sides – lol). On one side you have us – Haitians and Haitian-Americans – and I think we do project (perhaps even unintentionally) a certain swagger, almost like we own the damn place. On the other side, you have them – non-Haitians. Your article helped me see certain things from that non-Haitian perspective and for that I am grateful. I guess in any environment where you have cultural diversity as we do in South Florida, there are bound to be “ethnic factions” and some friction, but personally, I love it here – you can experience America, Brazil, Cuba, Jamaica, Haiti, Nicaragua, and Trinidad without ever leaving Miami!... Read more
I appreciate the insightful comments that the writer makes in regards to cultural categorization. It is a very alternative read.
OK...I was on the verge of being offended...then I took a deep breath and realize there was too much truth in your words to be upset. I agree Haitian Culture is an original opera that many tolerate, but few understand. Thank you for giving me an opportunity to laugh at myself and my people. ... Read more
A poignant perspective of the Hatian influence on life in Miami. I myself always wondered why we are not all called Caribbean people -why the label?(something that has bothered me since undergrad). Anyway "chef creole" is off the hook!!! Bringing my girlfriend to try next time i'm in Miami.... Read more
Hey.... Am I Haitian? No... I am a South Florida Jamaican, but I could have been Haitian, just that the boats from Africa dropped off my ancestors in Jamaica instead of Haiti.... We have the common root.... Keep highlighting these issues in South Florida in your own light, humorous way.. Very interesting article....... Read more
Your spin on the whole ethnicity factor opens my eyes, to how we as a society need such labels to help define who we are as a person. You are right; we all are Haitians, Jamaicans, or Bahamans in some way. Miami affords us with an array of rich cultures, which after a while all blends into one. Be it Vicky’s Bakery that serves the best pastelitos in Hialeah, The Peoples with their fall of the bones barbeque ribs, or café cubano y pan tostada (Cuban coffee and Cuban bread toasted). I love Curry Goat, Ackee and Crab, and Jamaican men. The tragedy that hit Haiti needs to be a reminder to the whole world that we are all families on this diverse plant and we need each other in some shape or manner. And for the Friend that was attempting to enjoy the drink, give him some slack, at least he tried. Yes, I am Haitian American. Great Job DK
Stanley... Read more
