HAITI - SUGAR SLAVES
Next time you add sugar to your coffee, think of Andre Prevot. A Haitian, Prevot met a man who promised him a good job nearby in the Dominican Republic (DR). But, as we've seen with the Asian slavers, this is a classic lure. "He took me across the border and sold me to the Dominican soldiers for $8," explains Prevot. Once in their custody, he suffered the fate of thousands of his countrymen who are forced against their will to cut cane for six or seven months -- from December to June -- for little or no money.
Though many Haitians work willingly in the Dominican sugar plantations (Haiti is one of the poorest countries in the Western Hemisphere), there is a perennial shortfall at harvest time. The State Sugar Council, known as the CEA, fills the gap with a system that violates nearly every internationally recognized labor code against forced labor. Although political turmoil in Haiti has put an end to cross-border recruiting, the enslavement of blacks continues.
Before the coup to oust Aristide in 1991, Haitians were brought to the border by CEA-paid buscones, or "searchers," and sold to armed Dominican soldiers at so much per head. During the coup, the borders were closed, Haiti was militarized, and cross-border recruiting came to an end. But the flight of 30,000 frightened Haitians into the DR brought an ample supply of cane cutters to its own backyard.
Now, when the harvest shortfall comes, it's se epok chas la -- "open hunting season" -- on any Haitian in the DR. The Dominican army fans out across the country, hauls Haitians off public buses, arrests them in their homes or at their jobs, and delivers them to the cane fields. According to human-rights workers on the scene, "Any Haitian in the street can be arrested and sent to batey [shantytown]." After Marc Pierre, 24, crossed the border on a shopping day-trip to the DR, a soldier arrested and jailed him. "When I told him I didn't want to cut cane, he hit me with his rifle," says Pierre.
The captives are held in crowded, filthy barracks at military posts until their numbers are sufficient. Then they are driven in open trucks to the bateys, shantytowns on the edge of sugar plantations. Their belongings are confiscated, and they are handed machetes. To eat, they must work. They cannot leave. If they try to escape, they may be beaten.
Armed guards come for the sugar slaves at 5:00 a.m., banging on the doors with rifle butts. The men are taken into the fields to harvest cane for 12 or 14 hours under a brutal sun. Sharp cane leaves cut into their skin. They eat dried fish and rice and are permitted to drink the juice of sugarcane.
Back in the bateys, four or six Haitians share a small, dark room. They sleep on the concrete floor, sometimes on cardboard cartons, or, if lucky, on thin foam mats. There is no running water or cooking facilities, and there are few latrines. Some of the DR's 400 bateys have electricity and well water.
Though the Haitians are paid for their work -- $2 a ton -- this pitiable sum melts away in a system designed to steal from the least powerful. A skilled man can cut a ton and a half a day, theoretically earning $60 to $70 a month, but first he has to tip the weight man to weigh his work soon after it's cut: If it lies in the sun a day or two, it shrinks in weight. Then the men are paid in coupons (vales), which the local store discounts at 20 percent. Highly skilled, energetic workers might be left with $15 a month. The average fellow earns just enough to stay alive, not enough to support a family.
In the 1950s, state-sponsored forced labor was formalized through a contract between Haitian dictator "Papa Doc" Duvalier and the DR government. In effect, Duvalier sold Haitian laborers at $60 a head. Aristide publicly burned and buried "the contract." His new policy, along with a decade-long campaign by international human-rights groups, have led to some improvements.
In response to outside political pressure, for example, the DR has begun sending inspectors to monitor conditions in the bateys and granting contracts to the workers. Though it is reported that some plantation guards have been disciplined for mistreating workers, rights groups report no substantive change from these measures.
There were also programs to "normalize" the immigrant status of Haitians by registering workers with the department of immigration, and the DR issued permits of temporary resident status. The DR says 50,000 Haitians were registered, but Patrick Gavigan of the National Coalition for Haitian Rights in New York City sees this as a cosmetic maneuver: The Haitians still can't move around the country without fear of being arrested, sent to cut cane, or deported. They are still coerced to stay on the plantations. On the other hand, pressure to crack down on child labor has all but eliminated that practice, a major success for the reformers.
In 1991, U.S. trade representatives pushed for reforms, particularly an end to the deceptive recruitment practices. But instead of imposing restrictions on the import of sugar, the Bush administration accepted Dominican promises to improve conditions. This policy was unfortunate, according to Gavigan, who recently returned from an inspection trip. Even now, he says, whenever the plantation owners need labor for the harvest, a roundup of blacks begins.
What can Americans do? 'More than they might think," says Gavigan. The DR exports 72 percent of its sugar to the United States, and U.S. aid to the DR is over $20 million. "Congress and people doing business with the DR should be pressed to bring tremendous pressure to bear," proclaims Gavigan.
Finally, more and more Americans travel to the DR to lounge on its sun-drenched beaches, a hillside away from slaves cutting cane. Thousands of would-be tourists (and convention planners) could pick a less morally challenged destination and strike a blow for human decency. That would bring a clear message: The DR must bring its treatment of Haitians into line with the most basic of human-rights and labor standards. And it must stop making people work at gunpoint.
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