Earlier this month there was so much rejoicing in Haiti and among people in the rest of the world who love Haiti. Although our Grenadiers didn't win any of their matches in the World Cup, we were so happy that they qualified to compete. We cheered them as they played Scotland (though there were grumblings about the refs), then Brazil, and then Morocco. The Brazil game was especially joyful because Brazil is the favorite team in Haiti, the one everyone cheers for in international events when Haiti isn't playing (Argentina is the alternative choice of a minority). So it almost didn't even matter who won. I loved seeing how friendly the Haitian fans and Brazilian fans were to each other. And then on Wednesday, against Morocco, Haiti scored two goals which were both fabulous. Haiti qualified for the World Cup, went to the World Cup (even the one in Haiti who couldn't get his visa at first), and then scored at the World Cup. For a little country that hasn't had much to celebrate in a while, this was all pretty wonderful. I saw many videos of people celebrating.
Photo taken by one of my kids, who was at the game!
Then came Thursday, and the Supreme Court's decision that the administration could go ahead and abolish TPS for Haitians and Syrians. In our home we throw around those letters, but if you're not aware, TPS stands for Temporary Protective Status. Haitians and Syrians are two nationalities who have benefited from this program, which allows people to enter the US to escape violence and natural disasters. People who are in the US under TPS are not undocumented and they can work legally. Some of the Haitians here under TPS have been here since the 2010 earthquake, contributing to the US economy as well as keeping their friends and relatives in Haiti afloat. (I'm talking of the Haitians because they are the ones I know, but assume that these things are true about the Syrians under TPS too, and Google tells me that there are 17 nationalities in the US with this status. The other nationalities will probably be next to lose the designation.)
I emphasized the joy in Haiti in my first paragraph, but obviously that's just part of the story. The country is in turmoil, with gangs controlling more and more places, and terrible violence taking place daily. The US government advises Americans not to travel to Haiti for any reason because of the danger, and yet they are getting ready to deport Haitians there, people who have been working, paying taxes, following American laws. People who did not enter the US illegally. (Are there undocumented Haitians in the US? Undoubtedly. But people with TPS are not undocumented.)
There are many places online where you can learn more about how all of this works, and what you can do about it (not much, now that the Supreme Court has weighed in), but this is Poetry Friday so I'm going to share some Haitian poems.
The first poem was written by Jacques Roumain (1907-1944), a celebrated Haitian poet and novelist. The translation into English is by Langston Hughes. (I found it here.) Guinea (Ginen in Kreyol) is the name given to the ancestral home where Haitians lived pre-slavery. Traditional belief holds that after death, Haitians will go back to Guinea. You can see in the poem that it's a place where they will be welcome, unlike many places on this earth.
“Guinea”
It’s the long road to Guinea
death takes you down.
Here are the boughs, the trees, the forest.
Listen to the sound of the wind in its long hair
of eternal night.
It’s the long road to Guinea
where your fathers await you without impatience.
Along the way, they talk.
They wait.
This is the hour when the streams rattle
like beads of bone.
It’s the long road to Guinea.
No bright welcome will be made for you
in the dark land of dark men:
Under a smoky sky pierced by the cry of birds
around the eye of the river
the eyelashes of the trees open on decaying light.
There, there awaits you beside the water a quiet village,
and the hut of your fathers, and the hard ancestral stone
where your head will rest at last.
Jacques Roumain, translation Langston Hughes
The second one is by Danielle Legros Georges (1964-2025). (I found the poem here.) Haitians often refer to "the phrase" Georges uses in her title. If you hear or read news stories about Haiti they will almost always include "poorest country in the western hemisphere," though more recently they'll also add "earthquake-ravaged" or "gang-controlled." It's not that those things aren't true; they are. It's just that it was so glorious for a few days to think of Haiti in other terms. And in Georges' poem she thinks in other terms, as well.
Poem for the Poorest Country in the Western Hemisphere
O poorest country, this is not your name.
You should be called beacon. You should
be called flame. Almond and bougainvillea,
garden and green mountain, villa and hut,
girl with red ribbons in her hair,
books under arm, charmed by the light
of morning, charcoal seller in black skirt,
encircled by dead trees. You, country,
are merchant woman and eager clerk,
grandfather at the gate, at the crossroads
with the flashlight, with all in sight.
Danielle Legros Georges
Here's an article about what this Supreme Court ruling means to Haitian TPS holders.
