Life On The Edge

At the beginning of September, I spent a week and a half in the town of Hondo Valle, 3 miles from the Haitian border. The following is another reflection on the Haitian immigrant situation in the DR along with some pictures from my time on the border...

The guest, the stranger, the foreigner and even the misunderstood – these are roles that I live out on a daily basis in the DR, and they are, as can be imagined, roles that come with many challenges, both beautiful and difficult. The immigrant experience is one that has intrigued me for some time. What must it feel like to leave home, family and all that is familiar to come to a completely foreign place, seeking opportunity, looking for a “better” life? I, myself, have left home and family at different times to live in other countries and cultures but I am often reminded that I will never have the full immigrant experience.

When I say the full immigrant experience, I mean the one that comes from being forced out of your natural home environment for economic or political reasons – out of the basic human desire to provide for and protect your family. A friend of mine, born here in the DR, of Haitian ancestry, once said to me:
“I would never want to move and have to go through the immigrant experience again. I’ve already been through it here, and that was more than enough. I know too well how it feels.”
These are the words of a man who grew up in the same country he was born in and yet is still looked at as an “immigrant,” a “stranger,” because of his blood ancestry. He is living his life without the same rights as the friends he grew up with who were born to Dominican mothers. He rides on buses, conscious of his ancestry and forced, at times, to put his own legal status on the line to defend his undocumented friends and neighbors who are constantly harassed at military check points.

Like many immigrants throughout the world, he is faced with struggles that I, as a “guest”, can only attempt to understand. Sitting in the home of a Haitian family on the Dominican side of the border, we were joking, in Creole, about our collective struggle to learn Spanish. There was much laughter and many smiles from the Haitians when I explained how I too was often misunderstood, couldn’t roll my r perfectly and, at times, didn’t comprehend a word of the quick paced Dominican Spanish. It allowed us to connect as strangers in a foreign land, but only up to a point.

Soon the conversation shifted to the misinterpretation of actions and behaviors and the general uneasiness and fear that pervades the lives of Haitian immigrants in the DR. In this particular border town, I encountered many integrated families, Dominicans and Haitians living side by side and a deeper sense of understanding and unity between the two populations. However, even this unique environment is not safe from fear and discrimination. One man shared with me about how he will never feel truly at home in this country; “Whenever anything happens – a crime, robbery, death, anything, the first thing people assume is that there was a Haitian involved. Then, none of us are safe…”

Life may not always be easy as the guest, the stranger or the foreigner, but it is a far cry from the experience of most immigrants throughout the world. I may feel at times like I live between two worlds, but I am not living on the edge – balancing a loss of home and culture with fear and a profound desire to just get by. To live in peace and provide for family and community, is that really too much to ask?

Members of Hondo Valle's St. Vincent de Paul society which visits homebound and sick neighbors like this young girl, crippled from the waist down.

The Hondo Valle girls volleyball team after a big win in the city of Elias Pina.

Me, sitting on the marker placed on the DR / Haiti border - created in 1929 by the US military during their occupation of the entire island. (We walked the 3 miles to the official border while I as in Hondo Valle. It's a walk that many Haitians do on a regular basis.)