Big Night In Little Haiti/Gwo Nuit Nan Ti Ayiti

Yours truly and the Big Night In Little Haiti sign

Miami is one of those cities constantly mentioned in songs and travel blogs for its nightlife and activities. For it's beautiful beaches, various clubs and lounges, and plethora of culturally inspired events people from all over the world flock to Miami. Few people realize that Miami is made up of many smaller cities. One city in particular, Little Haiti, is one of Miami's hidden gems.

Little Haiti, so named due to the influx of Haitian immigrants who came to call it home in the late '70s early '80s. Comprised of many Haitian owned restaurants, businesses and tourist attractions, Little Haiti is a great place to become engrossed in Haitian culture.

One such attraction is The Little Haiti Cultural Center (LHCC). The center offers tutoring programs, arts and crafts, and dance classes for children and adults. A focal point of the center is a program that it along with The Rhythm Foundation sponsors every third Friday of the month.

M pa kab dòmi/I can't sleep

12:09 AM Tuesday morning and m pa kab domi (I can't sleep). I don't know what it is. I'd love to say something profound like, "the troubles of this world are forever on my mind and manifest in my restless nights". Lies. Or maybe, "y'all home in bed sleeping while I'm out here in these streets gettin it..."  Naw, eh eh. Some of you are probably thinking, "well a few minutes past midnight isn't that late anyway so buck up fella", (I don't actually know anyone who'd say buck up fella but it felt right lol). 

Well midnight on a weeknight is pretty late especially when I wake up at 5am for a little cardio session then get ready for my morning show. Wait did I forget to mention I'm a co-host on a morning talk radio show? (The Morning Drive on WSRF 1580am Monday-Friday 9am-10am ANN ALE!!!!) Yes that was a shameless plug and there's more info on that subject coming soon. But the point is I'm already looking at less than five hours of sleep. Now it is true that my rugged good looks come naturally and take little to no effort. In fact one could say I woke up like this...(yes I just did) but for overall good health one must get sufficient rest.

A dish best served cold...

Justice as stated by the Merriam Webster online dictionary is defined as, "the process or result of using laws to fairly judge and punish crimes and criminals."

In every day life we come across different legal cases that may seem as if there was no justice served, and Florida is NO stranger to this. The Trayvon Martin case, the Casey Anthony case, and the more recent Ethan Couch case aka the Affluenza teen, all under public scrutiny, came to unfavorable ends according to public opinion.  Some will factor in race and social status, some will say the prosecution was to greedy, others still will claim that the criminal justice system prevailed in all cases and fair and impartial justice was served (...right...). Well Wednesday, February 12, 2014 at 8:17pm at the Florida State Prison, to some, justice was served.

In September of 1995, Juan Carlos Chavez kidnapped, raped and murdered 9 year old Jimmy Ryce. According to Mr. Chavez's confession, Jimmy was abducted at gunpoint from his school bus stop, forced into his pickup truck and taken back to his trailer. I will spare the more in-depth details but after four hours at the mercy of his captor, Jimmy attempted to flee but was shot in the back. After witnessing the boy's final breath, Chavez dismembered him, placed him in concrete filled pots and hid the evidence. Three months after the incident, with the help of his then employer, FBI agents caught up with Chavez, were able to get a detailed confession from him along with the whereabouts of Jimmy's body. The FBI's findings led to the 1998 conviction of Chavez for kidnapping, capital sexual battery, and first degree murder. He was sentenced to death.

Diaspora...

...a word that I have heard many times since I was very young, but not once did I ever stop to find out its meaning. To be honest I never considered the fact that the word would be relevant to me in the slightest. Diaspora was always used in conjunction with the "just comes", Haitians who literally just came over to the U.S. So naturally a young AMERICAN born Haitian like myself wanted no connection with the term.

Growing up Haitian in Miami in the early '90s meant one of two things, you were either a "boat" (Haitian immigrant who came over on a raft/boat) or you were a "Zoe" (a member of the Haitian gang Zoe Pound). Honestly, I never once hid my Haitian heritage, but I did disassociate myself with the "boats". My thoughts were, if I couldn’t be regarded, as a regular kid I'd much rather be feared for having gang affiliations. The wrench in that plan was my father. He didn't seem to be too concerned with my day-to-day identity crises. He sent me to school in my Sabbath Best (comparable to others' Sunday Best) and of course strictly enforced the Three L's of Haitian upbringing: L'eglise, Lekol, Lakay (church, school, home). It’s hard to be thugging in your shiny black church shoes while sprinting home full speed after school to avoid baton. I had no strong Haitian accent or any trouble speaking English whatsoever; but I also didn’t have the newest gear, cable TV, the latest toys and games, or even a respectable shape-up (dad claimed only thugs had shape-ups, smh). All that coupled with a French name and a distinct difference in behavior from my peers, I was clearly different.