The Jews of Haiti

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Haiti occupies the western one-third of the island of Hispaniola in the Caribbean Sea between Cuba and Puerto Rico. The island was discovered by Columbus in 1492, on his first voyage to the New World, and was subsequently held by Spain. In the seventeenth century French pirates established themselves there, harassing Spanish and English shipping.  Towards the end of the century Spain ceded the western third to the French, who colonized the territory, establishing cane sugar, coffee and tobacco plantations, which were worked by large number of slaves brought from Africa.  In 1793, the slaves revolted, and in 1804, following another revolt, colonial rule ceased altogether and the independent state of Haiti was proclaimed.

Since then Haiti has been ruled by Negroes and Mulattoes.

Early in the twentieth century, Haiti was plagued by recurrent political upheavals and economic crises.  The unstable situation impelled the United States in 1915 to intervene militarily to protect American lives and property and to prevent an invasion by other states.  Only in the 1930’s did the U.S. withdraw its troops.

With a population of five million, Haiti is one of the most densely populated countries in the world.  Half a million live in Port-au-Prince, the capital city.  Almost ninety percent of the population is of African descent, the rest are Mulattoes and a small number are of European and Middle Eastern origin.

The official language is French which is spoken by the higher classes.  The language of the broad masses is Creole.

In the past small numbers of Jews lived in the country.  The present Jewish settlement dates back to the closing years of the nineteenth century when a group of Jews from the Middle East arrived.  Later came European Jews, notably refugees from Nazi Germany and Austria.  Many of the Jews regarded Haiti as a temporary way station.  As soon as they had the opportunity to leave for other countries, especially the U.S., they did so.  There were never more than two hundred Jews in the country at one time.

During the twenty-minute ride from Francois Duvalier International Airport to Port-au-Prince I wondered whether in the short time I was to spend in Haiti I would be able to meet some of the Jews and to learn about the community.

The cab brought me to the business sector, a busy district, overflowing with people and cars.  Modern stores offering imported goods and street vendors peddling their wares from stands on the sidewalks.  Here is also a large market.  Two large halls filled with hundreds of stalls: in one of the halls, fruit, vegetables and other food products are sold.  In the other—native handicrafts, notably beautifully carved mahogany vessels and products made of straw.

The large majority of Haitians live in poverty.

While you are still taking in your first impressions of the exciting street scenes, a Haitian would attach himself to you offering to serve as guide.  He does so not only in expectation of a tip from you or a commission from the merchant to whom he intends to steer you, but also out of a genuine friendliness to strangers.  It is almost impossible to shake-off these would-be guides.  All protestations that you want privacy, that you don’t need his service, that you would find your way on your own—are of no avail.  He stares at you with disbelief.  “Why don’t you want my aid?  Why do you spurn my friendship?” his sad eyes seem to say.  Even if you persuade him to leave you, he would do so only for a few minutes.  He follows you with his eyes, walks behind you, and as soon as he notices you asking a passer-by for directions, he appears all of a sudden at your side offering you the asked-for information.

The vendors of local handicrafts, too, as soon as you only evince some interest in their wares, won’t let you get away.  “This price isn’t good for you?  What do you want to pay? Here take this together with that for the same price!  I’ll give it to you cheaper.”  They surround you, follow, and run after you.

Great is the poverty in Haiti—yet violent crime is unknown there.

On a store of photographic equipment on Rue Bonne Foi, I noticed a sign:  “Photo Haiti, S. Kahn.”  In the Caribbean islands, in Central and in South America, a typical Sephardi name does not indicate that its bearer is a Jew.  He might be a devout Catholic, a descendant of Marranos or the offspring of servants of Marranos or Jews who had adopted their master’s name.  Kahn, however, was a typical Ashkenazi name.  This was a shop I had to enter.

After I had established that the man behind the counter was the owner of the store, I inquired whether he was a Jew.

He was a Jewish refugee from Wiesbaden, Germany, who had come to Haiti in the 1930’s.

Could he name me a person who would be able to give me information about the Jews of Haiti?

“Bigio is the right man for you,” he answered.  “Continue on this street for two blocks and then turn to the left.”

I wanted to repeat the directions to be sure that I had them right, but he told me not to worry.  “Just go along this street.  You can’t miss it.”

And, indeed, after I had passed two blocks, I found myself in front of the store and warehouse of the Bigio brothers.

The Jewish Press, Friday, September 12, 1975

“From 1945-1970 there was a steady decrease in the number of Jews until only ten families were left,” Bigio told me. “In recent years the number increased again. The Israeli government opened an embassy in Port-au Prince. In addition to the embassy personnel, there are here also three Isralei agricultural experts with their families. These experts serve as technical advisors to the local authorities. Several Jews from the United States have established assembly plants. There are now about 150 Jews in the country.

“We Jews feel very close to each other and meet frequently socially.”

“I remember the time when we had a special place of worship with a Sefer Torah,” David Bigio continued. “Now we have no synagogue. Religious serves are held only on the High Holidays and they take place at my mother’s home. Prayers are said in Hebrew, French and English so that all would understand.”

About a third of the Jews are young people. There are no Hebrew classes and youngsters are prepared for their “Bar Mitzva with the aid of educational material, such as tapes received from the United States. The “Bar Mitzvahs are held at the homes of the boys parents. When a boy is born, a Mohel is brought from Miami.

There is no Jewish cemetery. “My father was lucky – of one may use its expression – to have died while on a visit to New York. He is buried among Jews.”

The Jews of Haiti and the staff of the Israeli embassy are in close contact with each other. Last Sukkot, the people of the embassy made a Sukkah and Haiti Jews visited it. On Passover a Seder for the community was held at the embassy.

The Jews give generously for Israel. David Bigio and his brother Benjamin are the local leaders of the United Jewish Appeal and Israel Bonds respectively.

After I left the Bigio brothers’ war house I strolled through the streets and took a ride to Petionville, a residential suburb situated on the highland above Port-au-Prince. Here reside the affluent in stately homes and villas surrounded by mango and papaya trees. Here are also found some of Haiti’s most fashionable hotels.

A site which is a “must” for tourists in the National Palace, the residence of the President. The building, which bears some resemblance to the White House in Washington, is situated in the center of Port-au-Prince and is surrounded by green parks.

The city’s streets are jammed with vehicles of all sorts. The tourist’s interest is  particularly aroused by the gaily ornamented and brightly colored pick-up cars which are fitted with benches to accommodate ten or more passengers. They are Haitis’s cheapest and most popular means of transport.

I passed shops with Jewish names, but I did not speak to the owners. I stopped for a while at “Salzmann” near the large market. The shop is owned by Otto Salzmann and Ernst Hoffmann, two refugees from Vienna who arrived penniless in Haiti and worked themselves up.

“This is a good country. This is a good people,” Salzmann said. “No rishes (anti-Semitism) here.”

He told me about last year’s Bar Mitzva of his Richard. It was a grand affair. About that time there was also another Bar Mitzva. Fourteen year old Richard Salzmann is this year’s Haiti tennis champion of his age group.

We continued to talk about religious Jewish life.

“What do you do if one has Yahrzeit?” I asked.

“What can we do,” Salzmann shook his shoulders. “One cannot properly observe Yahrzeit here. We pray for our dead at ‘Mazkir’ on Yom Kippur.”

Opposite Salzmann’s store is an art shop called  “Jerusalem Gallery.” The owner is a Christian Arab.

“He is a good friend of mine,” Salzmanns said. “We Jews here are on good terms with our Arab neighbors. We do not engage in debates. They know they can’t convince us and we realize that we won’t convince them, so we never talk about the politics of the Middle East.”

Thus live the small number of Jews in remote Haiti, far way from a larger Jewish center. They are not isolated. Haiti Jews travel, visiting relatives and friends in other countries. They also meet constantly with Jewish visitors from abroad. Large numbers of tourists come to exotic colorful Haiti and many of them are Jews, sons and daughters of the ever- wandering people.

The Jewish Press, Friday, Sept. 19, 1975 p. 42