West Indians in Haiti: Anglophone Caribbean Immigration

Joseph Robert Love, a prominent Bahamian residing in Port-au-Prince during the 1880s. Initially working with James Theodore Holly, Love involved himself in Haitian political affairs and spoke for West Indians in Haiti.

Although the West Indian presence in Haiti began with runaway slaves fleeing to free Haitian soil before emancipation, emigration in the British West Indies took on new dimensions after 1838. Prior to Panama, Cuba, the Dominican Republic and Central America becoming popular destinations for intra-Caribbean migrants of the West Indies, Haiti was a common choice, particularly among Jamaicans. Fraser estimates the total number of West Indians in Haiti during the 19th century at 3000, although many of these people came and went throughout the period. Another source, based on Protestant estimates of the British subjects residing in the Black Republic in the 1870s, and cited in Griffith's dissertation on Methodism in Haiti, puts the number at 2000 Jamaicans in Port-au-Prince and 800 Bahamians in Cap-Haitien and Port-de-Paix. These West Indian migrants often formed families with Haitians, played a pivotal role in the early Protestant conversion of the native population, and filled a niche in the Haitian urban economy as merchants, artisans, mechanics, tailors, shoemakers, and cabinetmakers. Thus, even though the number of British West Indians in Haiti was quickly eclipsed by the numbers migrating for work opportunities in other parts of the circum-Caribbean, their conspicuous presence in the various port towns of Haiti reveal another dimension of intra-regional migration. Through Protestantism, they left a cultural impact on Haiti, while taking with them notions of black autonomy, the Haitian Revolution, and, in some cases, political organizing experience.

Advertisement for a garage that employed Jamaican mechanic Ernest Burkett for several years. Arnold Braun would later sell the business to a Haitian, and Burkett worked as the chief mechanic.

Perhaps the best source of information on the legacy of British West Indian subjects in Haitian history is Philippe Jean-Francois's contribution to Cap-Haitien: Excursions dans le temps, based largely on oral histories provided by his own family and others in Cap-Haitien who remember the koko presence in the historic city. The grandson of an immigrant tailor from Turks & Caicos, Jean-Francois relied on his mother and other descendants of migrants to account for their coming to northern Haiti, the economic and social dynamics of their presence in Cap-Haitien, and relations with the local population. Additional sources on the history of the Bahamas also point to merchants in Inagua establishing trade networks with Port-de-Paix and Okap. Haitian ships from Tortuga and the north exchanged agricultural produce, handicraft, and rum for currency and manufactured goods. The arrangement worked well for the southern Bahamas, which had easier access to northern Haitian ports than Nassau, perhaps well into the 20th century. Due to this trade network, some Bahamian families already had Haitian ancestry or resided in Cap-Haitien. Jean-Francois's account provides additional details on some of these Bahamians and Turks & Caicos migrants, many of whom worked in the trades. One of the earliest West Indian migrants in Cap-Haitien, James Cartright, arrived in 1870, while others arrived in subsequent decades, such as the Moss family or Jean-Francois's grandfather. An additional wave of West Indians also arrived to work in Haiti during the US Occupation, when their English and skilled trades were in demand. For example, a Jamaican, Alan Miller, worked for the electric company in Cap-Haitien. Other Jamaicans worked for HASCO, Plantation Dauphin, or some of the new industries that grew during the US Occupation. Some Jamaicans appear to have come as English teachers, like Miss Burke, who stayed in Port-au-Prince to manage an orphanage. Others worked as mechanics for the National Railroad Company, particularly on the Gonaives-Verrettes line and the Port-au-Prince-St. Marc line.



In 1893, James Moses is listed as an artisan in the Carenage area of Cap-Haitien, known for its Anglophone Caribbean character in the 19th and early 20th centuries.

Jean-Francois's essay indicates a degree of assimilation for West Indian immigrants, or at least for those in northern Haiti. Many retained their Anglican or other Protestant faith, as well as a tightly-knit network of families who supported each other for funerals and other community causes. However, their culinary tastes quickly adapted to the Haitian palate, and many married locals, as the case of Jean-Francois demonstrates. Perhaps they maintained informal benevolent societies, and their Protestant faith may have distanced them from local Haitian artisans, such as Coeurs-Unis, which leaned more heavily towards the Catholic Church. According to Fraser, two examples of benevolent associations established by a West Indian in Haiti failed as the founder absconded with the funds, but it is likely others existed through church networks or based on regional origins. Through their religious connections and social networks, they likely practiced some form of mutual aid. Others, perhaps tailors and similar master artisans, probably took on locals as apprentices, which may have diminished the social distance between West Indians and Haitians. Unfortunately, Jean-Francois does not examine that question,  but Péan's masterful trilogy on the hstory of Cap-Haitien describes the system of apprenticeship.

Nonetheless, descendants of many of these West Indian migrants appear in later newspaper accounts, such as a Nelie Cartright as Carnival Queen in Cap-Haitien. The Brights, Lightbourns, Bakers, Rokers, etc. have left an impact on various aspects of social life in Cap-Haitien. Indeed, according to Jean-Francois, their presence in the northern metropolis was strong enough to define Carenage as their quarter, where English and the various West Indian Creoles were overheard. Some of these West Indian artisans who arrived in the late 19th century probably took on Haitian apprentices, and may have appealed to some Capois families who recalled Henri Christophe's preference for the English language and promotion of industry. Of course, unregulated numbers of such West Indians could also be a cause for alarm, as Reveil revealed in an 1892 article on the hawkers and artisans of the West Indies in Cap-Haitien. The same article refers to similar conspicuous Antillean activity in other Haitian cities of the era. 

1892 article on the state of two habitations near Cap-Haitien. Vaudreuil, managed by the Etienne brothers, used more than 80 laborers from the Antilles on the estate. It is likely that these workers were from the Anglophone Caribbean. 

Interestingly, a few attempts at large-scale agriculture and concessions for exports also involved West Indian laborers. Fraser refers to the Maunders concession, which for a Tortuga agricultural venture in the early 1870s employed a  West Indian labor force. The project floundered, but some of these workers may have stayed in Tortuga and northern Haiti, perhaps joining other Caribbean immigrants in the 1870s. The Vaudreuil habitation, near Cap-Haitien, is also described as employing over 80 Antillean workers in 1892. In light of past attempts at using British West Indian laborers and Cap-Haitien's ties with Bahamian networks, it is very likely that these 80 or more workers were from the Anglophone Caribbean or British West Indies. Regrettably for the state of northern agriculture, the association of the Etienne brothers that successfully managed Vaudreuil fell apart in a few years. Perhaps these Antilleans joined their counterparts in Carenage? Or they may have moved on to better work prospects in the Dominican Republic, which by this time was experiencing immigration of cocolos to work in the burgeoning sugar industry. Regardless of the outcome, the vast majority of West Indian migrants in Haiti were not rural laborers or farmers. Most were concentrated in the urban areas, where they developed defined quarters and, eventually, assimilated into their host society through intermarriage and length of residence. Indeed, popular neighborhoods of Port-au-Prince also developed West Indian or perhaps African-American quarters, such as bourg anglais in Port-au-Prince. Smith describes the West Indians of Port-au-Prince as residing in areas like Port-au-Prince's Bel-Air, where they likely carried on social intercourse with the Haitian urban poor and laboring classes.

Miss Burke, a Jamaican who came to Haiti in the 1920s to teach English. She also ran an orphanage.

Many likely worked side by side with local artisans in Port-au-Prince's Bel-Air or Morne à Tuf. In Port-au-Prince, West Indians, especially Jamaicans, were known as drivers. Those not engaged in manual labor or artisan professions, however, included prominent merchants, such as the Crosswell or Cole families, who interfered in political conflicts in the 1880s. The 20th century brought Oswald Brandt, a Jamaican of German extraction who became the wealthiest man in Haiti. Some Jamaicans came as pastors of Protestant churches or for missionary work, such as the Jamaican Baptist Missionary society's work in Jacmel, Saint-Marc, and Cap-Haitien. Nosirhel Lherisson's Baptist schools and proselytizing in the Jacmel area was partly funded and supported by Jamaican Baptists. Indeed, Lherisson's proselytizing was likely the most successful of Protestant missions in the late 19th century and early 20th centuries, claiming around 2000 local converts. Jamaican residents in Jacmel were certainly present to aid in such efforts and to lead congregations comprised of fellow West Indians. In terms of total conversions, these Jamaican missions were not altogether successful, but Jamaican Baptists missions may have played a role in the Protestant faith of Jean Price-Mars, born in Grande-Riviere du Nord to a Protestant father in a region visited by these Baptist missionaries. Consequently, the early legacy of Protestant missions led by West Indians introduced new ideas and social relations in different parts of Haiti, probably spreading notions of the  Protestant work ethic, gender relations, and comportment in provincial Haiti. These West Indians may have also carried with them notions of respectability and black nationalist-informed perspectives on Christian faith. Perhaps they shaped the early examples of the types of Protestant Haitian peasants described by Bastien during the 1930s and 1940s.

Nossirhel Lhérisson, a Haitian convert to the Baptist Church, enjoyed support from Jamaican Baptists to proselytize across the Jacmel area. Source: Jacmel: sa contribution à l'Histoire d'Haïti

Some prominent West Indian migrants included Joseph Robert Love, a Bahamian who eventually settled in Jamaica. His experience in Haiti shaped his political ideology and eventually caused his departure. Nonetheless, he petitioned the British government on behalf of West Indians residing in Haiti, many of whom were blamed by Salomon for the 1883 attempted revolt. Love later lectured on Haitian history in Jamaica, and his newspaper shaped a young Marcus Garvey. Perhaps unsurprisingly, West Indians were not represented well by British consuls. Their Haitian-born children were denied the right of British citizenship, an episode described in Griffith's work on the Methodists in Haiti. This indicates a sizable number of West Indian descendants raised in Haiti, probably the very same people who would express an interest in Garveyism during the US Occupation. Thus, Garveyism in Haiti returned to its roots through Love's legacy. Theodora Holly, the daughter of a famous  African-American Episcopal Bishop in Haiti, appears to be the most engaged Haitian to involve herself with the UNIA (Elie Garcia was also involved), but the Episcopalians and other Protestants of Haiti, which included many West Indians and their progeny, would have been the followers of the UNIA through their Negro World newspaper. During the US Occupation, other West Indians residing in Cap-Haitien and Port-de-Paix may have followed news of Garvey, too. For instance, a bar run by Marcy Myers, a Bahamian in Port-de-Paix, served American servicemen and other Bahamian traders, stevedores, and deckhands. These networks may have solidified a small base for Garveyism.

Hurst, whose mother was a descendant of African-American immigrants, was AME Bishop in Haiti. His father was, if not of African-American origins, West Indian. The AME Church in Hispaniola, first brought by African-American immigrants in the 1820s, grew in the late 19th and early 20th centuries through West Indian immigration.

Nearing the end of the US Occupation and the proceeding decades, the Jamaican colonie is referenced several times in Port-au-Prince's newspapers. In 1931, Le Matin expressed concern over Jamaicans leaving Cuba for Haiti. This is likely the context in which the Daily Gleaner published articles about Jamaican immigration as a matter of concern to Haitian authorities, alluding to Haitian attempts to limit Jamaican immigration in Haiti. Unlike Cuba and the Dominican Republic, however, Haitian attempts to block Jamaican immigration were not racial, but due to a fear of their impact on the poor already struggling in Port-au-Prince. Other Jamaicans who came in the 1930s and 1940s were not so unfortunate. For example, Jocelyn McCalla led the effort to launch friendly soccer tournaments between Haitian and Jamaican teams. McCalla also hosted several Jamaican visitors in Port-au-Prince. Ernest Burkett, a Jamaican chief mechanic at the West Indies Garage, appears in the press. Burkett had been in Haiti since the 1920s or 1930s, when the business was owned by Arnold Braun. Braun later sold it to a Haitian, who directed it in partnership with Burkett. Other Jamaicans appeared in the press in terms of high-profile visitors to Haiti, travels back and forth between the two islands, or, in one case, a Jamaican employee of Plantation Dauphin defending the Black Republic from bad press in the Daily Gleaner. The Duvalierist era probably led many in the Jamaican community of Port-au-Prince to leave, either for North America or Jamaica. Burkett himself was expelled for some time by Francois Duvalier, and others of West Indian descent likely found better opportunities abroad. Like Hubert Bright of Cap-Haitien, who worked as an interpreter in Anglophone Canada, more remunerative opportunities in Canada or the US acted as pull factors for emigration.

George Angus, one of the Jamaican Baptists active in the St. Marc area. He married a Haitian.

Perhaps due to racial consanguinity and their ultimately small numbers (possibly no greater than 3000 across a century), the Anglophone West Indian presence does not seem to have sparked the ire of Haitians. A few references to their predominance in some of the trades likely reflected Haitian frustrations over the foreign dominance of nearly every aspect of the economy by the end of the 19th century. References to attempts to limit their numbers in 1931 (around the same time Haitian frustrations over the Chinese presence manifest) illustrate some tension, but that was likely in relation to the Depression. Other than these few instances of anger or anxiety about local labor, perhaps also associated with the West Indians working for the US Occupation, they appear to be a welcome population who have assimilated into Haitian society. Of course, the occupational niches filled by West Indians in Haiti were less attractive in the years after the Occupation, and since so few were engaged in rural labor, the West Indian presence in Haiti was only a fraction of the plethora who labored in Central America or Cuba. Nevertheless, the history of Anglophone Caribbean immigration in Haiti impacted the spread of Protestantism, urban tradesmen, and black nationalist sentiment for both Haiti and the Caribbean.

Puerto Ricans in Haiti: 1870-1934

Betances, friend of Firmin, fierce defender of Haiti, and almost certainly the source of the 1870s movement of Puerto Ricans to Haiti. Residing in Jacmel between 1870 and 1872, Betances saw Haiti and Caribbean unity as central for the liberation of Cuba and Puerto Rico. His brother and nephew, Adolfo and Felipe Betances, also settled in Jacmel. Basora, a fellow revolutionary in the Comite Revolutionacio de Puerto Rico, also lived in Haiti during this time.

Although a significantly smaller presence in Haiti than Cubans, the Puerto Rican residents of Haiti during the 19th and early 20th centuries provide another dimension of intra-Caribbean migration. The Dominican Republic was, as one would suspect, a more popular destination for Puerto Rican emigrants, with over 3000 residing there by the 1930s. Geography, language, and opportunity made the eastern neighbor the recipient of larger streams of Puerto Rican migrants. References to their colonia in various towns connected to the burgeoning Dominican sugar industry allude to their organizations, dances, and friendly relations with Dominican residents. For Haiti, however, the significantly smaller Puerto Rican presence was connected to the Cuban Wars of Independence. Later, small numbers of Puerto Ricans remained or settled in Haiti to launch businesses or work for American companies during the US Occupation. According to Renda's Taking Haiti, one Puerto Rican, Pedro del Valle, even served in the Marines during that period.

Ramón Frade, illustrious Puerto Rican painter, lived in Port-au-Prince for some years.

The story begins with Ramon Emeterio Betances, renowned father of Puerto Rican independence and supporter of various campaigns to liberate Cuba and Puerto Rico. He was central in the early Puerto Rican presence in Haiti. Living in Jacmel from 1870 to 1872, Betances, his brother, Adolfo, and Dr. Francisco Basora, were part of this early wave. Betances and Basora were tied to the attempts to support struggles in Cuba and Puerto Rico with aid from Santo Domingo and Haiti. Masonic connections appear to have opened doors for Betances, who lectured at least once in a Port-au-Prince lodge. While in Haiti, Betances came to a greater appreciation for the Haitian Revolution, particularly Toussaint Louverture and Alexandre Petion. Unlike Hostos, who settled in Santo Domingo and usually excluded Haiti from his vision of a Caribbean Federation, Betances saw in the example of Haiti, especially Petion, republican and abolitionist virtue. Addressing Cuban and Puerto Rican nationalists in Haiti, New York, and elsewhere, Betances unequivocally embraced Haiti's revolutionary legacy as a model for republican statecraft, even praising Petion's land reforms. 

Marriage notice from Le Matin mentioning 2 families of Puerto Rican origin. Blas Vieras and Guillermo Gonzalez were associated with Club Betances in Port-au-Prince during the 1890s.

Besides Betances, his family, and Basora in Jacmel, there almost certainly were small numbers of Puerto Ricans among the Spanish-speaking artisans in Haiti. Some of the shoemakers arriving in Port-au-Prince during and after the Ten Years War appear to be of Puerto Rican origin. Unfortunately, most sources comment on the predominantly Cuban character of this migration, making it difficult to say with precision what proportion of this migration consisted of Puerto Ricans. Geography, or perhaps, familial origins in Saint Domingue, might have made Haiti more attractive for Cuban refugees and exiles than for Puerto Ricans. Of course, the failure of armed uprisings in Puerto Rico also made the numbers of refugees or exiles from that island far smaller than their Cuban counterparts. Nonetheless, there was a small contingent of Puerto Ricans in Haiti during this time, with some perhaps passing through Port-au-Prince or Jacmel. 

1908 Le Matin notice of the arrival in Port-au-Prince of Fernando Fuertes. This name was also listed in the membership of Club Betances. Surprisingly, some of members of the club were still in Haiti after 1898.

Moreover, Betance's temporary home, Jacmel, was one of Haiti's busiest ports in the later decades of the 19th century, receiving international visitors, merchants, and shipping line service. Under Petion, Latin American liberator Simon Bolivar also found refuge there. After Betances left Haiti in 1872, his brother and Basora remained, with the former reportedly running a hotel in Jacmel, according to a Caribbean commercial directory. Indeed, Felipe Betances, his nephew, who studied medicine, also appeared in Benito Sylvain's Haitian/Pan-African journal as part of the Haitian community in Paris.  Philippe would return to Haiti and establish a family, suggesting strong attachments to Haiti that persisted after 1898. Betances himself contributed a short story to La Fraternite, which, like his other writings pertinent to Haiti, reveal continued links to Haitian intellectuals in France. This included refutations of racist publications about Haiti as well as mingling with Haitians such as Firmin and Latin Americans in the French capital. 

Chapellerie La Borinquen, appearing in Le Nouvelliste in 1908. Emile Cuebas, or Emilio Cuevas, may be the father of Lolita Cuevas, a singer who performed Haitian folkloric songs and other material. She also presented Haiti in a positive light in Puerto Rico. 

By 1895, Puerto Ricans residing in Haiti become easier to track. The final thrust of the Cuban Independence War appears to have fueled efforts among the Puerto Rican section of the Partido Revolucionario Cubano to aid the war efforts. Although dispersed, the Puerto Rican section raised funds from members and, in at least Port-au-Prince, formed Club Betances. Antonio Mattei Lluberas, who reported on his efforts in Haiti during the 1890s, attested to the small size of the Puerto Rican community. Indeed, for Port-au-Prince, he puts their number at under 30. Such a small number, many of them lacking capital, must have included the larger Cuban colonie and sympathetic Haitians to raise funds and participate in club activities. Intriguingly, many of the names associated with Club Betances appear in Haitian newspapers well into the 20th century. These include the following:  Guillermo Gonzalez, Fernando Fuertes, Blas Vieras, and  Francisco Desuse. If most of these men were Puerto Rican, their presence in Port-au-Prince after 1898 indicates a small but settled community of artisans, distillateurs, and businessmen. Perhaps they married into local families or with other elements of the capital's foreign population, such as Blas Viera's daughter's union with a Vital.

Antonio Mattei Lluberas, an active member of the Puerto Rican Section of the Partido Revolucionario Cubano, was in Haiti during the late 1890s to raise funds for the Cuban cause. His brief reports indicated a tiny Puerto Rican colony in the Haitian capital, about 30 people, and some of the activities of the Club Betances. According to Mattei Lluberas, the Puerto Rican residents in Port-au-Prince lacked capital, and were much smaller than the Cuban colony.

From 1900 to 1934, allusions to Puerto Ricans living or working in Haiti continue. During the US Occupation, some came to work for US companies. HASCO, for instance, employed at least one Puerto Rican in the 1920s. Haitian sources, quoted by Michel Hector, refer to Puerto Rican and West Indian migrants taking the best positions in new industries established during this era, particularly automobiles. US plantations and the railroad companies also employed some foreign workers, which may have included Puerto Ricans in middle-status positions or in some mechanical capacity. At least three Puerto Ricans chose Port-au-Prince for founding chapelleries, an effort connecting Jose Blanch (consul for Haiti in Mayaguez), Emile Cuebas (Emilio Cuevas), and Jose San Millan. Cuebas even called his business La Borinquen, making clear the ties to his homeland. These small-scale shops and establishments, like that of Jose Blanch, probably employed young women and may have introduced ideas or practices from Puerto Rico. Unquestionably, Puerto Rican workers in new industries during the 20th century likely interacted with Haitian workers, perhaps transferring some skills in mechanics or automobile garages. Some of partial Puerto Rican heritage also enter the historical record, such as Jean Wagoner.

Albizu Campos visited Haiti in  September 1927, meeting with Joseph Jolibois fils and other anti-occupation activists.

Needless to say, these entrepreneurs and skilled workers were a tiny community, but left a legacy of cultural contact and exchange between the two Antillean peoples. Emile Cuebas was probably the father of Lolita Cuevas, a singer raised in Haiti who promoted Haitian folkloric music. According to press coverage of her in Port-au-Prince newspapers, she also represented Haiti favorably in Puerto Rico. Such a connection may have been a cultural component of Puerto Rican-Haitian relations during the 1920s and 1930s. The political connection, best expressed through solidarity beween Haitian and Puerto Rican nationalists opposed to US imperialism, is another. For instance, Haitian media allusions to visits of Albizu Campos make clear a certain interest in the fate of Puerto Rico. Albizu Campos also sympathized with forces opposed to the US Occupation, including Haiti in his political vision of Latin America. Perhaps Albizu Campos's inheritance of expansive notions of "Latin" civilization and meeting with Joseph Jolibois fils, who also undertook a journey across Latin America, shaped the connection between labor and cultural autonomy for both leaders. Even though anti-black prejudice continued in Puerto Rico, often quite explicit in cases such as Pedreira, a certain degree of overlapping interests, a past in Betances and Firmin, Jolibois and Albizu Campos, suggests Haiti's centrality for Caribbean consciousness. 

The Chinese in the Dominican Republic

Since the story of the Chinese in Haiti is intimately linked to transnational networks of Chinese families and businesses across the US, Cuba, and Haiti, a brief look at the story of the Chinese in the Dominican Republic is enlightening. While the Chinese presence in the DR dates to the 1860s, coming from Cuba, the growth of Chinese businesses in various towns across the nation seems to be more of an early 20th century phenomenon. Instead of descending from contracted laborers, akin to mid-19th century Cuba, these migrants appear more akin to the later migration patterns into the Americas to establish restaurants, laundries, and similar shops. Like the Chinese in Haiti, they were also linked to the Cuban Chinese community. 

Various articles from Listin Diario indicate that by the 1920s and 1930s, their numbers and economic clout was significant enough to warrant visits from Chinese representatives in Havana. Moreover, they established formal clubs, associations, and were often mentioned in the Dominican press for donating to various causes, such as erecting a statue of Trujillo in 1935. Like the case of Haiti, it is difficult to estimate the total numbers of the population in the Dominican Republic, but one article suggested approximately 500 in 1936. With transnational ties to Cuba and formal organizations, including a centralized association based in Santo Domingo, the Chinese colony were sufficiently organized and prosperous to demand attention from the Dominican government as well as Cuban-based Chinese officialdom.

Consequently, what is discussed here is a tiny ethnic minority with a presence in various towns, including San Pedro de Macoris, Puerto Plata, Santo Domingo, La Romana, La Vega, and other areas. If the Chinese population by the 1950s or early 1960s was slightly over 1000, their population did double from 1930s estimates, but remained miniscule compared to Cuba. While not great, this is certainly higher than estimates of around 200 for Haiti by the 1960s. Moreover, unlike the case of Haiti, where articles criticizing the Chinese presence can be found in Le Matin, Le Nouvelliste, and Le Temps, the Dominican press seems to be full of praise for la colonia china. 

They established restaurants, laundries, groceries, organized to celebrate Chinese holidays or visits from their minister based in Havana, and, in some cases, formed families through unions with Dominican women. Unlike Port-au-Prince papers, Santo Domingo's Listin Diario did not attack the Chinese on racial grounds (indeed, they often referred to the wisdom and antiquity of Chinese civilization and their laborious enterprises) or accuse them of taking over petite industrie that should have remained in Dominican hands. Perhaps this may be due to Dominican preference for non-black immigrants or the class biases of contributors to Dominican newspapers, as they were less likely to be pushed out of a market. Furthermore, since the majority of the Dominican population lived in rural areas and likely saw few if any Chinese unless traveling to towns, the Santo Domingo press took the liberty of speaking for them.

Moreover, the rise of Trujillo and anti-Communist support for the Chinese nationalists may have shaped elite discourse on their presence. Increasingly anti-Haitian official discourse did not target the Chinese communities, and they likely benefited from political stability of the Trujillo regime and the degree to which industrialization reshaped the Dominican economy. In 1931, immigration restrictions on Chinese nationals were dropped, further attesting to the willingness of the Dominican government to develop relations with China. Unfortunately, it is possible that records of the formal Chinese organizations of the 1930s onward may be lost. Surely, such records and a thorough examination of the Dominican press, government reports, and testimonies would shed light on the relationship of this community and the Trujillo regime. If the Syrian-Lebanese community provides any indication, they likely supported the Trujillo regime.

As for Haiti, it is undoubtedly the case that some of the Chinese families in the Dominican Republic were also operating in Haiti. This indicates that the economic presence of the Chinese in Haiti, conspicuous by the 1910s if not 1920s, was likely occurring through families that established branches in the Dominican Republic or had mutual relations in the US and Cuba. For instance, the Wah family in Haiti, operating businesses in both Port-au-Prince and Cap-Haitien, are probably related to the Joa of the Dominican Republic. Indeed, a Josan Joa appears in Dominican newspapers in the 1920s, who could very well be the father of famous Haitian painter Bernard Wah, Wosan Wah. Without access to oral histories, it is difficult to say with certainty, but it does suggest that many Dominican Chinese were related by blood or marriage to those on the other side of the border. Another name that appears frequently among this community is Fung, who are likely related to the Fong in Haiti. Additional surnames in the Dominican Republic during the 1920s and 1930s include Lee, Chong, Chang, Woo, San, and Jos. Norman Lee was prominent as the head of the Fraternidad China, which appears to have coexisted with the Centro Chino in Santo Domingo. 

As for why the Chinese in Haiti, to the writer's knowledge, never established formal community organizations or a casino, perhaps their smaller numbers made informal associations sufficient for supporting their colonia. Perhaps their smaller size also explains why the Chinese colonie in Port-au-Prince did not raise funds for community projects, or public charity, which distinguishes them from the Club Commercial Syrien. In addition, there remains a chance that the Chinese in Haitian cities, such as Cap-Haitien, Port-au-Prince, and Les Cayes, retained links with the formal organizations among their counterparts in the Dominican Republic. In a sense, perhaps this relationship mirrored the uneven incorporation of both Haiti and the DR into the world system, with the former as partly peripheral to the latter.

La colonie cubaine

1876 article from Spectateur on Cuba, urging a degree of caution due to the question of race and the US intervention, yet hopeful for Cuban independence.

Although the movement of Haitians to and from Cuba over the course of the American Sugar Kingdom in the Hispanic Caribbean is a well-known story, the 19th century movement of Cubans to Haiti is, though numerically smaller, an important story in the path to Cuban independence. This process was also accompanied by an acceleration of US power in the Caribbean region, as the Spanish-American-Cuban War brought Cuba and Puerto Rico directly into the US imperial orbit. However, before Cuban independence, the circum-Caribbean region played a key role as refuge and center for resources for the Cuban independence movement. Specifically, as a result of the Ten Years War (1868-1878), many Cubans fled abroad to escape repression, pursue business opportunities in tobacco (Key West comes to mind), and plan for eventual Cuban victory over Spanish forces. Haiti received many of these Cubans during this period, and as a movement weakening European colonialism and slavery in the region, enjoyed support. In order to grasp the scale of Cuban migrations during these turbulent decades, note how one scholar cited an estimate for 1500 Cubans residing in Jamaica for the year 1872.  Cubans based in Jamaica also interacted with Haitian exiles in Kingston, an important site for Haitian exile political activity described in great detail by Matthew Smith. 

1893 advertisement for Jean Rodriguez's barbershop, mentioning that he cut the hair of the Haitian president. Rodriguez was likely of Cuban origin.

The Cuban question became the focus of new pan-Antillean anti-colonial politics, consciousness, and debate as Cuban, Haitian, Puerto Rican, and Dominican intellectuals reconsidered their mutual ties and the necessity of a common front against colonialism. Betances, Marti, Maceo, Firmin, and Gregorio Luperon became the intellectual forebears of pan-Caribbean politics, proposing in various forms an Antillean federation to counter US and European imperialism in the region. The struggle for Cuban independence, and Haitian support for it, albeit often officially neutral, represent the development of this shift in Haitian conceptions of the Caribbean space. Moreover, the actual movement of Cubans in Haitian urban areas during these last 3 decades of the 19th century presented a transformation in the trades and novel attempts in the tobacco industry. Thus, Haiti's participation in the Cuban wars for independence also represented economic and social changes as hundreds, if not thousands, of Cubans moved to Haitian shores. This, in turn, likely shaped the nature of social struggle, the evolution of artisan associations in Haiti, and a discourse of national industry in which both Haitian and Cuban intellectuals sought to define their nationhood in the interest of the laboring classes.

1896 advertisement for a respected Cuban shoemaker in Port-au-Prince, Augustin Garcia.

According to Matthew Casey, who is one of the few to write about Cubans living in Haiti during the 19th century, Cubans were, by the 1890s, the most numerous nationality in Port-au-Prince after resident Germans and French. Their arrival in significant numbers is intimately tied to the Ten Years' War, and many of these Cubans, according to Zacair, were of African descent. It is understandable why Afro-Cubans would have, perhaps, preferred Haiti over Jamaica or the Dominican Republic as their homes, due to the proximity of Haiti and its history of slave revolution. It may even be that some of these Afro-Cubans, if from Oriente, possessed familial ties to Saint Domingue. Furthermore, their presence was felt in other principal towns, such as Jacmel and Cap-Haitien. Even smaller towns attracted Cubans, as Aubin found a Cuban shoemaker living in Petite-Riviere in the early 1900s. Cuban artisans in Haiti from 1870-1900 likely practiced their trades, especially those of barber, shoemaker, and tailor in all the major provincial towns.

A letter from a Cuban based in Gonaives, attesting to Haitian sympathy for the cause of Cuba Libre. From January 1897, to a Paris-based Cuban newspaper.

Indeed, according to some, they reinvigorated Haitian artisan professions by taking local apprentices. For example, Fequiere, writing in 1906, praises Cubans for perfecting the trades. In a history of Bel-Air, an area of the capital inhabited by workers and artisans, the author alluded to all the best tailors or shoemakers having been trained or shaped by Cuban expertise. Fortunately, historian Roger Gaillard names some of these influential Cuban shoemakers, whose work was held in high regard: Rufino Duarte, Augustin Garcia, Jean Laurin, Felice Shuey. These and other Cubans not only repaired shoes, but produced them, thereby weakening dependence on imports from abroad. Cubans additionally worked in a number of other professions, and were clearly held in high regard by Haitian journalists, educators, and intellectuals for their hard labor, willingness to train locals, and ability to exemplify respectable labor. The Cuban colony in Haiti was still favorably viewed in 1903, when an article in the 14 February issue of Le Devoir praised them for their contribution to Haitian artisan trades, even mentioning their marriages to local Haitians. Their comportment contrasted them with Europeans, or, even worse, the growing Syrian presence. Fequiere also praised Cubans for abiding Haitian laws and not intervening in political affairs, unlike resident Europeans and Levantines. 

1895 article from L'Echo d'Haiti expressing Haitian solidarity with Cuban independence fighters and refusing to expel their Cuban supporters from Haiti.

Cubans were also courted in Haiti for their technical skills and experience in the tobacco industry. Unlike, say, the Dominican Republic, where Cuban immigrants found a place in the burgeoning sugar industry in the last few decades of the 19th century, Haiti did not offer such favorable conditions for aspiring planters. However, during the same period, Cubans were involved in a number of attempts at launching tobacco farming on a large-scale, as well as cigar production. For instance, in 1876, a group of around 100 Cubans arrived in Port-au-Prince, eager to settle and establish a tobacco industry. However, due to a concurrent diplomatic row with Spain involving the Ten Years War, a Cuban and a Spanish national, the Haitian government decided against allowing them refuge. Charles Vorbe saw this as a missed opportunity for Haiti to develop a tobacco industry. Cubans were also involved in a later attempt to cultivate tobacco on a large scale, this time on the Dumornay estate of Charles Fatton. Unfortunately, a fire led to the dissolution of the plantation, and the Cuban workers left for Jamaica. 

Two Cuban mechanics offering their services in Port-au-Prince in 1870.

By the beginning of the 20th century, Cubans were almost certainly involved in a more durable tobacco company, based at Diquini, STL. Launched by Germans and Americans, STL endeavored to use scientific methods to grow tobacco on a vast scale, employing over a hundred people on its farmland and fabrique. Aubin identifies the workers as Jamaicans, but US Minister Powell's consular report mentioned Cuban cigarmakers producing over a thousand per day, about half for the domestic market. Of course, Haiti's tobacco industry never expanded to match that of Cuba or the Dominican Republic. Yet, the significance of Cuban labor in the attempts to develop one indicate the significance of Cuban migrants. They were sought for improving production and to launch another industry, further tying Haiti into global commodity chains and diversifying exports. Cuba was undoubtedly the school for Haitians such as the mechanically-inclined Pantaleon Guilbaud, who also launched his first cigarette fabrique in the 1910s, after living in Cuba. Guilbaud later becamed a celebrated industrialist in the 1920s and 1930s, producing cigarettes with a modern factory. For additional information about this industrialist whose success in the tobacco sector, Candelon Rigaud and Antoine Bervin's  Pantal à Paris provide more detail. Without precedent in tobacco from Cubans or experience in Cuba first-hand, it is hard to imagine Guilbaud succeeding.

1870 Notice for the visit of Francisco de Paula Bravo, a Cuban, to Haiti to promote solidarity with  during the Ten Years War.

Now that it has been established that the Cuban presence in Haiti influenced artisans, urban labor, the small tobacco industry, and shaped Haitian relations with Spain, their larger significance in a moment of regional change can be ascertained. By improving the trades in Haiti, Cubans improved production standards and shaped consumer demand. They almost certainly, as hinted by Roger Gaillard, influenced how their apprentices and Haitian peers saw themselves and the class question, too. For example, the rising participation of  Coeurs-Unis des Artisans in Cap-Haitien by the end of the 19th century might also be partly related to the diffusion of ideas from Cuban artisans. Moreover, the Cuban tobacco sector of the 19th century often included the most militant workers organized into associations and unions, the cigarmakers. While few of these established themselves in Haiti, their influence might have lingered with the nascent tobacco sector laborers in Haiti. Robert J. Alexander's history of Cuban Labor Movement also refers to walkouts and strikes among shoemakers, tailors, drivers, and others during the 1870s, when some of these very same artisans were moving to Haiti. Undoubtedly, the militancy, work stoppages, and early attempts at unionization by Haitian shoemakers could also have something to do with the influence of Cuban teachers, although many of the master artisans would have been petit-bourgeois owners of workshops employing others. In short, the Cuban presence  shaped the course the development of class consciousness, as the appearance of a pamphlet in 1890 probably reflects.

Dr. Ulpiano Dellunde, a Cuban based in Cap-Haitien, friend of Marti, and Haiti delegate of the PRC.

The Cuban colony, over the course of the late 19th century, also tightened bonds between Haiti and the Cuban struggle. Cuban patriots had visited Haiti since 1870, and would continue to do so. Maceo, Marti, Betances, and other prominent proponents of Cuban and Puerto Rican sovereignty spent time or lived there, formed associations to assist the liberation struggle, and came to regard the place as central to the story of Caribbean autonomy. Even as Cubans continued to struggle over the racial question and fear of another Haiti, their presence there forged ties that did not dissolve after independence. The mutual respect grounded in the revolutionary past of Haiti, its utility as a base of operations for insurgents, and the centrality of Hispaniola within the Antillean space made it so. 

Thomas Trenard, a Cuban tailor, promoted his business in various Port-au-Prince newspapers for several years, such as this 1888 newspaper.

Thus, Cubans residents continued to advertise their businesses in Port-au-Prince newspapers after 1898. Cuban and Haitian trade connected the two islands as Haitian emigration to Cuba expanded exponentially under the aegis of US empire. The return of Haitian migrants from their Cuban sojourn exerted new influences on music, taste, sensibility, and politics. And it goes without saying that the Cuban medical missions after the Revolution have been life-saving for countless Haitian citizens. Today, Cubans come to Haiti for shopping, and are still well-liked by the Haitian people. These bonds were forged by the experience of anti-colonial movements of the late 19th century, in which the Cuban colonie of Haiti played a pivotal role. In spite of this anti-colonial heritage, the two were bound by a new form of domination that reversed migration ways with the rise of US empire.

The History of the Chinese in Haiti

See Woo & Co, Chinese restaurant listed in The Blue Book of Hayti, 1918-1919
 

Although Kreyolicious is, to my knowledge, the only writer who has touched upon the history of the Chinese in Haiti, references to this understudied Chinese Caribbean population exist in primary source material. Unfortunately, a reliable estimate for the total number of Chinese who came to Haiti from the late 19th century until the 1930s cannot be found, but it very well could have been hundreds or more. According to the oral histories conducted by Kreyolicious and the Museum of Chinese in America, the numbers of Chinese coming to Haiti after the 1930s appear minuscule, and many of their descendants left during the Duvalier dictatorship. Since it appears most of these Chinese migrant entrepreneurs married local women and their numbers were small enough, they have totally assimilated. Quite a few "Sino-Haitians" have played a role in the arts, particularly the Wahs and the Fungcaps.

A mention in Haiti Sun of the local Chinese colony in the Port-au-Prince area. Note how it indicates only 20 Chinese were in Port-au-Prince ca. 1958. An October 1957 issue also mentions 15 members of Haiti's Chinese colony venturing to meet a Chinese delegation, although some had traveled from Aux Cayes and Cap-Haitien. For 1960, Haiti Sun also put the total number at 60, versus 20,000 for Cuba. Alternatively, Chinese sources put the number for the 1950s and 1963 at slightly over 200 Chinese nationals in the Caribbean republic.

However, it seems quite clear that any Chinese persons in Haiti before the late 19th century were very few. Despite the significant numbers of Chinese laborers next door in Cuba, some of whom also ended up in the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico (not to mention the Chinese presence in Jamaica, which also began in the middle of the 19th century), Haiti was not able to attract Asian indentured laborers or entrepreneurs at this time. It was not due to a lack of interest, since some Haitians, such as A. Monfleury, saw a need for Asian laborers on plantations at least as far back as 1860. Frustrated and unable to launch long-term successful sugar plantations with the requisite compliant and cheap labor, Haiti consequently would have very few if any Asians. However, it is possible that some Chinese in nearby Cuba, Jamaica, or the Dominican Republic did end up in Haiti but are not mentioned in any local papers, especially if they were in the Dominican-Haitian borderlands during the War or Restoration.  Imagine an indentured worker in Cuba seeking an escape, perhaps they may have heard of Haiti through Afro-Cubans?

A short article from 1955 about the honesty of the staff at the Wawa laundry service from Haiti Sun.

If anything, the small numbers of Chinese in the neighboring Dominican Republic during this time indicate tiny or non-existent numbers of Chinese in Haiti. According to Graciela Azcárate, there was an increase in the Chinese population in the Cibao, Santo Domingo, and other regions, particularly after 1870. They worked on railroad construction and local industries in a migration promoted by Gregorio Riva. But by 1920, there were only 255 Chinese across the entire country, if the numbers are reliable. Most of these were men, often running laundry services, restaurants, and businesses in towns. As one would likely suspect, the numbers of Chinese in the DR increased during and after the US Occupation, but a 1950 census reported only 455. Azcárate's article does allude to migratory flows from the continental US and connections with Jamaica, which leads one to wonder if any of the Chinese families in Haiti have Dominican relatives. For instance, a Fong Sang became a naturalized Haitian citizen in 1951, and very well could be related to the Sangs in the Dominican Republic. Such a thing would not be surprising, as this pattern can be found among the Syrian and Lebanese families in the region.

Notice of the death of a Chinese restauranteur, Lim Wah, in Cap-Haitien (Le Nouvelliste)

Since it has been reasonably established that the Chinese communities in the Dominican Republic during this time were small in number, it is probable that Haiti received even fewer. In 1881, a Polish engineer mentioned an attempt by the owner of the Drouillard habitation in the Cul-de-Sac Plain to use Chinese laborers on the estate, even building housing for them. Grekowicz made it quite clear in his correspondence that this attempt to use Chinese labor, comprised of 5 or 6 unnamed families, failed as the Chinese were persecuted by locals and eventually chased off the property, later fleeing to Port-au-Prince. These unfortunate souls may have been the first Chinese in the nation. Grekowicz did not identify the proprietor of Drouillard, but Candelon Rigaud indicates it fell under the ownership of Achille Barthe and his descendants, perhaps already in the family hands by 1881. There may have also been a a few other Chinese who came in the 19th century via the British West Indies or French colonies in the region.

Le Matin article about a fire on Grand'Rue that mentions Chinese restaurants in the quarter in 1930.

The first two decades of the 20th century appear to be the better date ranges for elucidating the origins of Chinese families in Haiti. Still, their numbers could not have been great. By the 1910s, there were at least a handful, particularly the Fong-Ging brothers and other Chinese restaurateurs, most likely all from Canton. According to Essud Fungcap, the Chinese were attracted to Haiti during the 1910s and 1920s because there was an increase in the demand for their services and restaurants during the US Occupation. This would explain why Juan Fong, Hoo Hing, the Wawas, Fungcaps and others could find a market for their services and prosper. Further, it indicates that the Chinese in Haiti must have been overwhelmingly urban, where they sold their services to US Marines, foreign residents, and the Haitian  middle-classes and elites in Port-au-Prince, Cap-Haitien, Aux Cayes and, perhaps, other towns. Additional evidence from US Congressional documents reveal the presence of Chinese nationals in Haiti and the Dominican Republic in 1918, specifically authorizing US agents to issue passports for Chinese to return to their homeland via the US. There is no indication of their total numbers on the island, but clearly they were establishing shops and businesses in both countries in the 1910s. Corvington, whose well-known series on the history of Port-au-Prince, is an excellent resource for understanding the increase in the numbers of restaurants, diversions, and urban amenities in Port-au-Prince during the Occupation, in which these migrants played a role.

1919 advertisement for a Chinese restaurant (Le Matin)

By the 1930s, there does appear to have been animosity and disdain for the small but seemingly growing Chinese community. Corvington referenced a November 1932 expulsion of more than 200 Chinese, which could not have been merely a whimsical move on the part of President Vincent. Prior to this expulsion, the newspaper Le Matin printed an anti-Chinese article. The piece rejects the Chinese on racial grounds, and refers to them as a threat to the Haitian-owned laundry, restaurant, and bakery establishments. Presumably, if the number of Chinese spiked from the small numbers in the 1910s to hundreds by 1931, their presence must have been a cause for alarm, and raised fears of a foreign group threatening Haitian petit-bourgeois businesses. This likely brought back to the minds of older citizens the Syriens and the thorny question of assimilation and competition with newcomers. Indeed, a law banning Syrian immigrants in 1894 also included the Chinese, in spite of their absence in the press, thus indicating some degree of overlap between anti-Syrian sentiment and legislation with other "Asiatic" peoples. Oral history accounts appear to back this up, with Wah referring to the government blocking the entry of Chinese in Haiti at some point in the 1930s. Unfortunately, Wah was not precise with the dates, but it does seem that by that decade, attitudes among some quarters of the political class were more hostile to the idea of a growing Asian population in Haiti. The context of the US Occupation, nationalist sentiments,  global economic depression and noirisme may have fueled it.

Le Matin sale advertisement that mentions a Chinese laundry from 1929.

The oral histories provide priceless testimony to connections with other Chinese communities in the US and the region. Edouard Wah's father, for example, had family in Philadelphia and Cuba. So, perhaps the total number of Chinese operating in Haiti in the period 1910-1960 fluctuated as members of the colony shifted back and forth from Cuba, Jamaica, Haiti, the Dominican Republic, and the United States. Although there does not appear to have been a 'Chinatown' in Port-au-Prince, many Chinese businesses were on or near Grand'Rue, in the city center. Many lived above their stores, and visited each other after closing hours. George Simpson's 1941 analysis of Haitian social structure claims few resident Chinese married local women, but it very well could be many enjoyed informal unions with black or mulatto women. Members of the Port-au-Prince community also participated in some Chinese celebrations or events organized by the Chinese (Taiwanese) embassy. The second generation, likely predominantly mixed-race, integrated into the Haitian middle-class or respectable society, and left a legacy in the arts. Bernard Wah, for instance, was a major figure in the development of Haitian art. Yves Fungcap and Marcel Wah were artists. Essud Fungcap was a musician in compas bands. Perhaps due to their small numbers and partly Haitian parentage, these "Sino-Haitians" may have integrated rather easily. 

Part of a 1931 article critical of Chinese immigration. The author is listed as "L'Homme de la Rue" and makes a racialist argument against immigration from China.

Since 1957, Haiti experienced the rocky road of economic decline and political terror. Due to Duvalierist repression and violence, many left for greener pastures over the course of the Duvalier dicatorship. Economic contraction and political violence may have deterred further growth of the Chinese colony. Interviews with Fungcap and Wah also refer to the limited opportunities for expanding businesses, so families may have as restaurants, laundry services, or shops could not support growing families. Some, like Moise Wawa, may have stayed in business for quite some time after the 1960s, but one can surmise their children moved into professions or sought their fortune in the US and Canada. Perhaps, unlike elements of the Levantine community or Haitian elite, they were unable to transfer into sweatshops or garment assembly factories. Kreyolicious's interviews with descendants of the Sino-Haitian community appear to support this conclusion, too. Yet, with a Taiwanese embassy (headed by Liu Yu-Wan) and visits from a Hong Kong mission in 1958, there must have been some interest in investment or trade with Haiti during the Duvalier years. 

1929 advertisement for a Chinese laundry in the city center of Port-au-Prince.

Although perhaps best known for contributions to the arts, the Chinese of the Black Republic connect Haiti to larger processes in the Caribbean. Unfortunately, it remains difficult to access information about how Chinese-owned businesses operated and co-existed with Haitian competitors (Le Nouvelliste covered a work stoppage at the Wawa laundry in 1947, involving the Bureau de Travail), but their story is an interesting example of US imperialism and burgeoning global markets shaping Caribbean development through middleman minorities. It is a history intimately tied to the US Occupation and urbanization. Given their small numbers, it may be unlikely they had tongs or any kind newspaper, but they may have been connected to Chinese Benevolent Associations in Jamaica or subscribed to Chinese-language papers from other parts of the Caribbean. Much labor remains to be done to understand the history of the Chinese in Haiti.