*Warning, this post contains some cursing*

On my recent trip to the states, I ended up standing next to a group of African-Americans on the train ride to my connecting flight. They were a group of professional twenty-somethings – probably headed to some Caribbean island for vacation. They were simply chatting along about people they were friends with and whatnot when I heard one say “I better take my black ass over here before I catch whatever you have”. I don’t know if it’s because it had been a while since hearing that, but that put a huge smile on my face.

See, as much as I go on and on about being Haitian, the fact remains that I moved to the US when I was 3 years-old. That means that all my formative years were à la Américaine. I always attended diverse schools – and diverse in Marin County means predominantly white with a plethora of small ethnic groups – however, I spent the most time with African-Americans. I don’t think I even had to “try to fit in” because it was pretty much all I knew outside of my strict Haitian household. Back then, I didn’t appreciate the type of language that is so commonly used among black people. Even as an adult, I’d say things like “negro, please” to my close black guy friends. It just flowed. And the best part was it was something you said only to each other. I don’t know any other ethnicity who points out their race when referring to themselves.

At times I forget I can be just as much Haitian as I am African-American. I learned the history as it were my own and still remain well-versed in all aspects of the Civil Rights Movement. I even co-founded a black student union in high school and played Angela Davis in a Black History Month presentation. And I got all this in addition to the Haitian history I learned from family. Not to mention all the neat sayings that only Haitians get away with saying to each other, as well. I’m so grateful to have such a rich background filled with knowledge of two extraordinary cultures. So, what does this all mean? Whether it’s my Haitian or African-American side, I am a black person for all intents and purposes and that makes me feel part of a very special group.

Let me add the caveat that I don’t use the “n” word for the same reason I don’t use the “b” word – there’s just a certain line of derogatory I don’t cross. We all have our limits, right?

I’m always the first to complain about people’s stereotypes regarding Haitian culture. I hate it when people say “you don’t look Haitian” or “you speak very well ‘for a Haitian’”. I realized that I’m so irritated by these comments that I miss an opportunity to teach others about what makes my culture so great. Better late than never, right? First lesson: how we eat.

Haitians (in general) eat three meals a day with very little snacking in between. Breakfast is usually something pretty heavy like eggs and boiled plantains or even spaghetti. Kids often have a lighter dish like bread and café au lait (yes, we drink coffee as children) or hot chocolate. The picture below is smoked herring (chiktay in Creole) which is sautéed with onions and hot peppers (we mostly use Scotch bonnet). You can eat this with bread or boiled plantains. I like it so much I can eat it throughout the day as a snack with crackers.

Lunch is a pretty heavy meal, as well. Most dishes will consist of rice and beans in some form and meat. Some people also like to include a vegetable such as yuca, plantains or bread fruit. The dish below is red beans and rice, fried pork and plantains. Fried pork (griyo in Creole) is a very common dish sold by street vendors all over Haiti. It sounds easy to make, but there’s a trick used to prepare it that makes it nearly impossible to replicate at home. I think it has to do with the cut of the meat and the spices used.

Dinner is usually the lightest meal of the day. In my neck of the woods, we never really ate any rice or meat after 6 PM. It’s very common to have a porridge like the one pictured below made from grated plantains (you seeing a theme here) with some toast. Or, we sometimes had hot chocolate with a baguette. I must note that Haitian cuisine is very versatile in terms of porridges which can also be made from yuca, millet, and cornmeal.

This is of course a brief explanation and there’s a whole lot more to Haitian cuisine. Don’t worry, I plan on sharing more in the future ; especially the many uses of some of the vegetables I mentioned here. Any fellow Haitians who eat/ate differently at home, please feel free to share.

Three year-old: Mommy! What is dat?! *points finger at my drink*

Me: What?

Him: Dat!

Me: Oh, that’s my drink.

Him: What’s his name?

Me: What’s it called?

Him: Yeah.

Me: It’s called wine.

Him: Wine?! Wiiinnee!!!

Me: Yes.

Him: It’s juice.

Me: No, it’s wine.

Him: It’s juice wine.

Me: No, it’s wine.

Him: Can I have some?

Me: No.

Him: Just a little bit. *displays “little bit” with his two fingers*

Me: No.

Him: A little tiny bit.*makes space between his fingers even smaller*

Me: No.

Him: Just one, Mommy. *puts up his index finger to show me one*

Me: No.

Him: Only 1. *puts his index finger closer to my face*

Me: No.

Him: Aaaaawww. Okay.

Note: If it weren’t alcohol, I would’ve given in after the second “no”. The kid is persistent.

The past few weeks have been all about getting used to early mornings again and of course the obligatory parent/teacher meetings (I think we called them “open house” when I was growing up). During the meeting for my daughter, who is in 4th grade now, I noticed something strange…

The teacher was going over the curriculum and the weekly schedule for assignments. She also gave an overview on each subject, as well as how she was going to evaluate them. Every time she mentioned a schedule, I saw parents’ heads go down to write. That’s when I noticed that the majority of them had notepads. What?! You’re taking notes at a parents orientation…for your 4th grader?!

Of course I had a moment when I thought – should I be taking notes, too and are they judging me because I’m not? But then I remembered – oh yeah, my daughter is the one responsible for her assignments and quizzes – just like I was when I was her age. I mean, if I do this now, when will it stop? When she’s 12? 15? 18? At what point am I supposed to let her take ownership of her work?

I’ve heard about helicopter parenting and how Generation X’ers (which I’m part of) are guilty of it. But that was in the US. I didn’t realize that I would witness this phenomenon in Venezuela. But then I realized, of course I would. Many Latin American parents expect their children to live with them until they get married. And if they don’t get married, they never leave. I know that this has changed a lot in metropolitan areas, but I know quite a few Caraquenos in their 20’s who live at home. They simply don’t see a reason to move out.

I know that there are many factors to this – economy, limited housing, parents in need of financial support, etc. and I also think that you can live with your parents and still exhibit a sense of independence. However, your parents would have to start instilling these values early on…like before the 4th grade.

So, while I can respect Venezuelans’ (as well as many Americans) penchant to be heavily involved in their children’s lives, I’m going to stick to the agreement I have with my daughter; I will trust her to do what’s right/necessary until she proves otherwise. How do you feel about helicopter parenting?

It’s customary for Caracas apartment buildings – with security at the entrance – to have bars on all the windows…

And on the front doors…

And although they try and use little designs to make them look less like bars…

In the end, they’re still bars…