Three years ago, her daughter, then 25, was almost murdered by her boyfriend.

Douge came home from work one evening and found Charline and boyfriend, who everyone calls “Tiboy,” fighting in the living room.  Douge said it seemed like a normal fight and went on to make dinner for her other three children and her mother.

“They speak English fast,” Douge said of her daughter’s fight.  “I didn’t understand everything they said.  I understood that she said she was no longer going to be with him because she didn’t like men who talk behind her back.”

Tiboy, who was 21 at the time and is currently in jail, is from the Bahamas and was living in the United States illegally.  Charline said she would marry him to help with his immigrant papers and legal status in the United States.  When she broke up with him that evening, he tried to kill her.

Douge heard her daughter say she was going to the bathroom, and the boyfriend followed her.

“They were still fighting a lot,” Douge said.  “Then after, I didn’t hear her voice no more.  When I tried to go in the bathroom, the door was locked.  I called my daughter’s name, but she didn’t say nothing.  My mind told me to just call the police and tell them that he killed my daughter.  Then I did exactly what my mind told me to do.”

Douge’s son, whose name she prefers to keep private for fear of Tiboy’s retribution, broke down the door, looked behind Charline’s boyfriend and saw his sister lying on her stomach on the floor with blood around her head.

The doctors at Jackson Memorial Hospital told her that her daughter had a 5 percent chance to live, a diagnosis Douge refused to believe.

“God blew on my daughter, and she is still with me today,” Douge said.

Charline is now in a wheelchair.

Marliene Bastien is the founder and executive director of Fanm Ayisyen Nan Miyami/Haitian Women of Miami, a center founded in Little Haiti in 1991 to help low-income Haitian families in Miami, targeting women as a core service.

Bastien said domestic abuse is a problem in Haitian culture that women can help to eradicate.  Her organization is making the first steps to do so.

“It is up to us to change the culture of violence against these women,” Bastien said. “There should be an outrage right now among Haitian women.  We are the ones that raise these men.”

Solange Avreliene is a coordinator of Fanm Ayisyen Nan Miyami’s domestic violence education classes where she and other members of the community are planning an education program to stop violence in the Haitian home.

“I don’t usually cry,” Avreliene said.  “But I always cry after hearing stories like the one Yvrose told me when she called and asked to join the group.”

Douge called Avreliene when she heard about Fanm Ayisyen Nan Miyami on a Sunday radio program.  She said she wanted to share her story, so more people did not end up like her daughter.

Bastien said that domestic abuse in the male-centric Haitian culture could worsen during the current economic recession if women do not try to put an end to it.

“Stopping [domestic violence] begins when men are little boys,” Bastien said.  “The more men feel powerless in the workplace, the more they try to gain that power somewhere else.  Men who cannot get a job, men who cannot get immigration papers, these are the men that hit their wives and children.”

Douge, who also has another daughter, 16, and a younger son, 19, recently had to deal with such situation at home.

“My son’s girlfriend called me and told me, ‘Your son slapped me.’  I almost died,” she said.  “I told my son, ‘Look at your sister.  If you do that, you don’t live in my house no more.’  He never did it again.”

Magda in her home on a late Tuesday afternoon doing a pedicure for a Brazilian client. Photo by Gabriela Campos

Eleven years after arriving in the United States, an immigrant family from Poços de Caldas, Brazil, still struggles to survive in Miami as illegal aliens.

Magda, her husband Wagner and their two sons, Leonardo, 24, and Leonam, 21, from Magda’s first marriage, are four of the 11.9 million illegal immigrants the Pew Hispanic Center estimates are currently living in the United States.  A third son, Leandro, 25, also immigrated with the family but was caught using illegal drugs and deported back to Brazil.

These Brazilians, who asked to keep their last name private for fear of persecution by U.S. immigration authorities, entered the country in early 1998 with tourist visas on the premise that they were coming to visit a relative in the United States.  But Magda, 46, said her family had no plans to go back to Brazil after the visa expired.

“We came to see my mom, but we also left Brazil because we had decided to come in search of opportunities,” Magda said.  “We came already knowing that we would go through tough times and difficulties.”

The family initially lived with Magda’s mother, Teresinha, who is illiterate.  She immigrated to the United States in 1986 and became a legal resident in 2000 after marrying a Cuban-American.

But nothing came easy to this Brazilian family.  When they decided to move out of Teresinha’s home into their own place, many landlords asked Magda for legal documentation she could not provide.  Eventually they found a landlord who only asked for financial information and was willing to rent to them in Little Havana.  Three years later they relocated to Doral, Fla., before settling in their current apartment in West Miami.

Magda said being an illegal immigrant in the United States is like living in the shadows.

“We are no one for now,” Magda said.  “We don’t have an identity here.”

They cannot obtain any documents, including driver’s licenses, making transportation difficult.  Leonam, who still lives with his parents, relies on rides from friends.  Leonardo gained legal status through his marriage to an American woman and drives Wagner to work, helping his stepfather with electrical work throughout Miami.  Magda spends most of her time in the family’s small apartment, where she works as a self-employed manicurist.

Teresinha, who had previously worked for 20 years as a cleaning lady in Miami, helped her daughter find jobs cleaning house for Brazilian families in the area.  After cleaning their homes, Magda often offered manicures to her clients.  They liked it so much that she stopped cleaning their houses and became a full time manicurist.

“I used to work Monday through Friday cleaning and on Saturdays I would only do nails,” she said.  “Later I found a way to only do nails and so today I am only a manicurist.”

Wagner worked as a fireman in Brazil, but after working odd jobs in Miami for several years, he got some training and now works as an electrician for people who are willing to pay him under the table.

One year after arriving in Miami, Wagner was in a serious car accident, making matters even worse for this family.  The accident left him with a broken foot, shoulder, jaw and eyebrow, as well as a fractured vertebra.  Wagner spent a month in the hospital and three months recovering from jaw surgery.

“It was hard because he is the breadwinner,” Magda said.  “I had to drop everything I was doing and stop working so I could help him at home.”

Though life in the United States has been hard for Magda and her family, their life back in Brazil was worse, she said.  In Poços de Caldas, in the state of Minas Gerais, Magda struggled with poverty and supporting her family after her first husband died, leaving her a widow with three young boys.  After she married Wagner, they both grew concerned with raising a family in Brazil, where the crime rate was rising and where they lived in impoverished conditions.

“Here, everyone can live in a good place,” Magda said of Miami.  “There isn’t much violence.  We can walk in the street, you can roll down your window while in your car.”

Throughout the years, Magda has tried to learn English, but as her clientele is mostly made up of Brazilians who come to her house, she has had a hard time learning the language.  Her sons also struggled with the language barrier when they arrived in the United States, but through school and friends they have learned English and Spanish and today speak English better than Portuguese, their mother said.

Although Magda never graduated from high school, her belief in the value of education was a big factor in her decision to move her children to the United States.   She and Wagner believed that the boys would have better opportunities in Miami.

“We were mostly thinking about their future,” she said.  “I don’t know if the boys would have had the opportunity to study [in Brazil] as they had here.”

Their sons were able to finish high school, but Leonam is frustrated he cannot attend college without legal documentation.  For now, he works as an electrician with Wagner, but he dreams of studying criminal justice and hopes to become a legal U.S. citizen.

“It’s as if I was born here, but not having papers makes it all a little harder,” Leonam said.  “Once I get my papers, I really want to go to college.”

His mother is convinced that immigration policy will change and allow her family to live here legally.

“I don’t know when or where, but the time is going to come when the government of this country is going to have to do something,” Magda said.  “We are waiting.”

She has no plans to go back to Brazil and wants to remain in Miami with her family, hoping for a chance to become a U.S. citizen and to live a better life than in Brazil.

“If we have our minds centered, we will be able to overcome our barriers and there is going to be a time where we will be able to have our own house and the boys will be able to go to college,” Magda said.  “We are going to be able to do it one day, even if it takes awhile.”

Parents and members of Temple Beth Shmuel’s congregation enjoy a student performance for Israel’s 61st birthday celebration. Photo by Olivia Bernardo

Temple Beth Shmuel Cuban Hebrew Congregation was once a fading congregation, but the rising number of students at the temple’s Jewish Montessori School helped revitalize the congregation.

With many original Cuban Jewish members aging and dying, TBS trustees Becky Cohen, Oscar Sklar, Micki Glinsky and Fabio Nick recognized the need to keep the temple alive, in numbers and spirit.

They realized a Jewish Montessori school, the first of its kind in Miami-Dade County, was the solution and granted automatic membership to all families of students attending the school.

“At the time, I was in the process of adopting two children from Russia and had to wait one year before I could bring them home,” said Cohen, vice president of TBS and chairman of the school board.  ”[The school] had been in the works for six years and it was time to make it happen.  The community was going to help raise my children.”

The four founding members approached Rebeca Krys, who is now a 22-year Montessori teaching veteran, to help create a school that combined the teaching methods of Maria Montessori with Jewish ideals, such as family togetherness, respect for others and philanthropy.

“I am very fond of what I do,” Krys said as she kissed a student named Roxy on the head.  “I love it.  Just look at the faces.”

In 2004, Temple Beth Shmuel Montessori School opened its doors with eight children.

Cohen’s son Bernie, 7, was the first child enrolled at the school at the age of 2.   Today, the school is home to 56 students and has a waiting list of more than 100.

Many students who graduate from this school go on to gifted programs in public and private elementary schools.

“In [Bernie's] graduating class, he and several other students were hand-picked for gifted programs,” Cohen said.

TBS Montessori encourages its students to select daily activities according to their personal interests.  Different from traditional schooling, children have the freedom to choose what they want to learn in a Montessori program, independent from their classmates and teachers.

“You have to follow the child and understand what the child wants,” Directress Krys said.  ”You do not do what you want, but what the child wants.  It’s a better way to teach hands on.”

In the backyard of the school, students took initiative by planting a garden to celebrate the Jewish holiday Tu B’Shvat, the Jewish Arbor Day.

As the liaison between the temple and school, Cohen arranges four to six events throughout the year to maintain the connection between students and original congregation members.

The school most recently celebrated Israel’s 61st year of independence.  Students prepared with their Hebrew, music and dance teachers for two weeks for a performance at the “birthday party.”  Parents, grandparents, teachers and members of the congregation attended.

“We have new families bringing life to the synagogue and older members keeping tradition,” Cohen said.

Parents who attended the event credit the overall success of their children to the teachers.

“The teachers do a great job,” said Alison Heiss Mclaney, a TBS mother.  ”They really allowed my daughter Stella to blossom.”

Teachers have the opportunity to work directly with the children and learn their individual personalities during morning “work time” and lunch.

“I like lunchtime a lot, we have a lot of conversations going on,” said Romi Napartsek, 24, the Pre-K/Kindergarten teacher.  ”You get a lot from the kids and get to interact and laugh with them.”

Rabbi Abramowitz, leader of the congregation, also enjoys interacting with the students every Friday in preparation of the Sabbath.

“They call me the ‘Funny Rabbi,’” the 89-year-old said while displaying his jumping ability.  ”Judaism has to be fun too.  The best thing I have here is when [Krys] allows me to come into the classroom and sing with them, yell with them and run around with them.”

In the 1950s, Abramowitz became known as the “Cuban Rabbi” when he opened the doors of another synagogue, Temple Menorah on Miami Beach, to Cuban Jews who fled Cuba.

“The Cuban Jews weren’t accepted in Miami,” Abramowitz said.  ”Everyone thought they were rich.  They came with nothing more than coins in their pockets.”

Initially, members paid no dues, and children went to Hebrew school and could participate in summer activities for free.

He has led the Cuban Hebrew Congregation at Temple Beth Shmuel since 2006.

“One of the main philosophies of TBS is ‘l’dor vador,’” said Marcos Kerbel, president of TBS, who explained that in Hebrew, it means “generation to generation.”

Venezuelan singer Ricardo Montaner embraces Alejandro Osorio, who participates in “Fundación La Ventana de los Cielos,” a program Montaner founded in 2005 to aid children with developmental disabilities. Photo courtesy of Marvis Osorio

Gustavo and Marvis Osorio drive 30 minutes each way every Saturday morning in Miami traffic to “Fundación La Ventana de los Cielos,” or the Window of the Heavens Foundation, so their son Alejandro can learn simple tasks, like jumping.  Alejandro Osorio, 3, has Down syndrome.

“At the beginning, it was really frustrating that my child was born with Down syndrome,” said Gustavo Osorio, Alejandro’s father.  “Little by little, thanks to people who provided us with support, we found the foundation.  It completely transformed our entire lives, our thoughts.”

La Ventana de los Cielos, located in rural Homestead, Fla., is a donor-funded foundation started by Venezuelan singer Ricardo Montaner in 2005.  It provides numerous therapies to children with varying disabilities including Down syndrome, autism and physical paralysis.

“Everything here at the foundation is just for that specific purpose, to give alternative therapies for the kids with special needs or special conditions,” said Andrea Ramos, fundraising assistant at La Ventana de los Cielos.

Every Saturday, volunteers and trained therapists guide the children through five different types of therapies, ranging from interaction with farm animals, equine therapy or therapeutic horseback riding, arts and crafts, music and dance and hydrotherapy.

About two years ago, the Osorios heard about the foundation through an event for families with children who have Down syndrome.  They learned the founder was Venezuelan and felt an instant connection, Alejandro’s father said.

Before Alejandro began attending La Ventana de los Cielos, he was introverted, Mr. Osorio said.

The boy’s mother, Ms. Marvis Osorio, agrees.  She said his connection with the horses has helped him express himself more through his hands and to show feelings and emotions.  She has also noticed an improvement in her son’s physical capabilities.

“[In the beginning], he couldn’t grab the pencils, he would drop them,” Ms. Osorio said.  “Now, he can take the pencil and make lines.”

Although some changes have been gradual, others have been drastic, such as in his horse-riding abilities.  When he started, he refused to touch the horses and rode the whole time with his hands up.  Now, though, he can ride a horse by himself without fear of contact, Mr. Osorio said.

“The therapies began to create that physical contact for him,” he said.  “He sees the animals from a different point of view now.”

Seeing the animals in a different way has also shown to be beneficial in other environments, like interacting with other children, Ms. Osorio said.  The Osorios especially notice the change now when Alejandro goes to parties and has the confidence to play with other children.

Ramos said that Montaner started the foundation because parents would bring children with disabilities to him wherever he went to perform, and he felt God was instructing him to help these children in Miami, where he and his wife live.

“If you have just one time to talk with God, you have to pay attention, and he did,” Ramos said.  “His family is following their instructions, their desires from God, to do this foundation.”

Alejandro’s father attributes the changes he’s seen in his son to a deeper connection he has with the animals.

“When one of these children gets on a horse, there’s a kind of connection,” he said.  “It’s much greater than we could ever understand.  It’s a connection that’s almost spiritual.”

Cuba’s flag has remained the same since the early 20th century while Venezuela’s flag has changed over the years as the country has evolved, most recently at Venezuelan President Hugo Chávez’s behest, adding an eighth star and changing the horse in the seal to face leftward. Illustration by Corey Erb

The relationship between Cuba and Venezuela has become increasingly important for many Venezuelan students in South Florida with family still living in their home country.

“Estudiantes por la Democracia,” or Students for Democracy, is an organization made up of Venezuelan students mostly from the University of Miami.  One of its main goals is to bring together the Venezuelan community in South Florida to vote on referenda that can create positive changes in Venezuela.

“I believe the most important issue for our organization is first of all, development of Venezuela as a country, economically, democratically and socially as well,” said Eugenio Lascurain, a member of Estudiantes por la Democracia.

Several of the group’s members are afraid to be identified by name because they consider the group to be fighting against the current Venezuelan government.  Some members fear that they, and family members still living in Venezuela, would face retaliation, said one of the group’s executive board members.

“The current government does not tolerate someone who disagrees with their ideas and policies, so they take serious and illegal actions against the individuals who oppose them, violating countless human rights,” the board member said, adding that many in their group need to renew their passports soon.  There is a “big chance” that if the Venezuelan government identifies them as dissidents, their renewals would be denied, the board member said.

Estudiantes por la Democracia meets regularly to discuss issues undermining democracy and human rights in their home country.  They believe the relationship between Cuba and Venezuela is degrading Venezuela’s political freedom and worsening its economy.

Cuba provides Venezuela with military support, nurses and medical technicians, which in turn offers social support for Venezuelan President Hugo Chávez’s regime, said Eugenio Yáñez, editor of the think tank Cubanálisis.com.  He believes Venezuela is “fundamental” to the Cuban economy.

“Both countries depend on each other,” Yáñez said.  “Cuba needs desperately Venezuelan oil, and Chávez needs the support of Cuban intelligence and social workers.”

Yet, Lascurain said such collaboration through programs like “Misión Barrio Adentro,” or Mission Inside the Neighborhood, for instance, is actually hurting Venezuelans.  This program, at the Venezuelan government’s mandate, brings Cuban doctors and nurses to shantytowns in Venezuela to provide cheap medical attention.

“By bringing people from other countries, [the Venezuelan government is] not giving poor Venezuelans space to grow,” Lascurain said.  “In that sense it’s not helping our country economically, or to grow in the long run.”

Casto Ocando, an investigative reporter for El Nuevo Herald, who has covered Cuba-Venezuela relations since 2004, said that government-run medical centers established through this program have suffered from lack of equipment, supplies and security.

“[When Misión Barrio Adentro started], it was considered the best effort engineered by Chavez’s government with Cuban help,” Ocando said.  ”Today, though, that presence has proved to be less and less effective.”

Lascurain said that the program also hurts the quality of Venezuelan health care because the medical professionals Cuba sends are often not trained as well as doctors and nurses educated in Venezuela.

Estudiantes por la Democracia often discusses these programs and people’s perception of them.

Liz Alarcón, a member of the group, said many Venezuelans see only the positive cooperation between these two countries.  She said that positive resources coming into Venezuela from Cuba influence how Venezuelans, who only have access to media controlled by the government, view the negative aspects of Cuba.

Lascurain said a dialogue on Cuba-Venezuela cooperation in South Florida would be important to these communities.  The group has promoted similar forums put on by the University of Miami Center for Hemispheric Policy.  He wants to bring a forum discussing the similarities and differences between the Cuban and Venezuelan populations in South Florida to the area in the near future.

“The Wailing Wall” and the Dome of the Rock in the Old City of Jersualem, Israel. Photo by Joshua Newman

On April 13, 2009 President Barack Obama lifted all restrictions on the ability of Cuban-Americans to visit and send remittances to relatives in the island nation.

“President Obama has directed that a series of steps be taken to reach out to the Cuban people to support their desire to enjoy basic human rights and to freely determine their country’s future,” White House press secretary Robert Gibbs said.

This comes after a group of senators suggested a new approach to policy toward Cuba and unveiled a bill March 31 to lift the 47-year-old travel ban.

“The debate [over U.S. sanctions on Cuba] is important because it has implications for security interests in the Straits of Florida, broader U.S.-Latin American relations, and global perceptions of U.S. foreign policy,” wrote Sen. Richard G. Lugar, R-Ind., one of the bill’s sponsors.

While some hope that a new U.S attitude toward Cuba will provide an opportunity to open the lines of communication regarding trade and human rights, there is concern about how an influx of American money will be handled by the Cuban government.

“Cuba is anti-Israel,” Jaime Suchlicki, director of the Institute for Cuban and Cuban-American Studies, said.  “It supports Hezbollah and Hamas.”

The Israeli Embassy’s press department failed to comment on Israel’s policy toward Cuba because of “bureaucratic red tape,” but Israel routinely supports the U.S embargo.

Cuba and Israel cut ties in 1973 after the Yom Kippur War, when Cuba sent financial and military aid to support the war efforts of Arab states in conflict with Israel.

“If the money is being used for anything other than the necessities, it will be unfair,” said Marcus Kerbel, president of the Cuban Hebrew Congregation at Temple Beth-Shmuel in Miami.  “Only time will tell where the money is going to be used.”

For Cuba’s minority of Jewish citizens, this political strife makes expressing loyalty to both homelands difficult and complex.

“There is a difference between the official rhetoric of Cuba and the day-to-day,” Kerbel said.

The Cuban government routinely expresses condemnation of Israel’s government but allows its Jewish citizens to make “aliyah,” a term for the immigration of Jews to Israel.

“Cuba exists in a web of contradictions,” Ruth Behar, a visiting anthropology professor at the University of Miami, said.

Behar is a Cuban Jew whose family chose to make “aliyah” in 1961.  Behar was four years old at the time and since then has lived in both countries to better understand fellow Cuban Jews, the subject of her life’s work.

“Seeing all these successful American Jews [visit Cuba] has made Jews on the island curious about the world Jewish community,” Behar said.  “You can continue to be the object of their gaze or you can go.”

Deepening interest in the culture and identity of the international Jewish community has led those Cubans to choose “aliyah.”

But for some Cuban Jews, moving to Israel is not based on the ideals of the Zionist Movement, which calls for the return of all Jews to Israel through “aliyah.”

Instead, Israel has become an “exit strategy” - a way to leave the Cuban communist government behind, which Behar said is never openly discussed.

“In Cuba, since you really can’t express dissent, the only way to do so is by immigrating,” Behar said. “You love it or you leave it.”

Should Cuban Jews choose to leave, their travel arrangements, paperwork and fees are taken care of by the Jewish Agency for Israel, a global organization created in 1929 to rescue Jews in distress, facilitate “aliyah” and absorption, educate people on Jewish Zionism and build a global Jewish community.

“The core belief of the Jewish Agency is a strong Jewish future requires a strong Israel at its heart,” states the official Web site for the Jewish Agency, which details the process of making “aliyah.”   From Hebrew language lessons to psychological advice for leaving your old home, the Jewish Agency claims to assist immigrants in every possible way, according to the site.

Upon arrival in Israel, Cuban Jews can live in an absorption center and receive a monthly stipend and medical coverage for up to one year before beginning a working life in Israel.

Behar said some are content living in Israel while others try to immigrate again to countries like the United States and Canada.

Wherever their final destination, Behar has seen many Cuban Jews who left the socialist republic save their money to return to Cuba as tourists.

“In the contemporary moment, Jews who leave don’t break their ties with Cuba,” Behar said.  “The Jews who left in the sixties broke their ties.”

After one year as president of Cuba, Raul Castro’s most identifiable success has been his increased foreign interactions worldwide.

“In the last four months, nine Latin American leaders have gone to Cuba to meet with Castro,” said Dr. Brian Latell, senior research associate for the Institute of Cuban and Cuban- American Studies at the University of Miami.  “That’s quite a procession,” he said.  ”In the 50 years since the Castro revolution, I don’t think the Castro government has had a higher international standing.”

Yet, Suchlicki said international openness has not improved the quality of life on the island.

“The fact that Cuba has a few allies [or not] is meaningless to Cuban Jews,” he said. “They still have essential problems like getting food.”

Young Capoeira students stay off the streets and enjoy themselves at Capoeira Maculele, Homestead Fla. Photo courtesy of Capoeira Maculele

For 20 Hispanic children living in the Redland Center in Homestead, Fla., “Capoeira” classes provide stability and an opportunity to stay away from drugs, gangs and HIV/AIDS.

Twice a week, instructors from “Maculelê Miami Brazilian Arts Institute” teach a one-hour Capoeira class, an Afro-Brazilian martial art, to impoverished children aged 3 to 15, inside a small room in the Redland Center, an agricultural migrant housing community in Homestead.

“When we started, the kids all came from homes that had pretty serious problems, and they came here to get relief from their everyday life,” said Joshua Broadhead, a Capoeira instructor known as “Mico.”

Capoeira began in Brazil more than 500 years ago by African slaves brought to work on plantations.  Today, it is the second most popular sport in Brazil and is practiced all over the world, according to the Brazilian Capoeira Confederation.

Though there is much debate on whether Capoeira is a dance or a fight, unlike other forms of martial arts like Jiu-Jitsu or Karate, Capoeira does not involve punching or physical contact.

“Capoeira Maculelê” is an international group with partner schools in Brazil, Europe and the United States. Their location in Kendall, Maculelê Miami Brazilian Arts Institute, is a nonprofit organization that fosters knowledge and appreciation for the Brazilian arts while providing community service through Capoeira classes.

“The organization in Brazil has literally saved lives, and we hope to do the same thing here,” Mico said.

Thanks to a partnership between Maculelê Miami Brazilian Arts Institute and “Sembrando Flores,” a nonprofit organization and ministry inside the Redland Center, Capoeira classes seek to encourage safe and healthy lifestyles for at-risk children inside the housing community by intervening in their free time.

“[The children] get to learn self respect and we keep them off the streets, healthy and from getting into trouble,” Mico said.

These at-risk children live about 35 miles southwest of Miami, inside the Redland Center, one of four housing communities in Homestead specifically for migrant farm workers working in agricultural farms in the area.

Sarah Tibwell, youth services coordinator at Sembrando Flores, said drugs are the biggest problem inside the impoverished community, where violence and risky activities are prevalent.

“The Capoeira program is the most successful youth program that we have,” Tibwell said. “Every time, they have a full class where the instructors are very committed.”

Though Sembrando Flores, which provides counseling, advocacy, social activism and HIV testing for those living inside the housing community, funded the classes at first, Maculelê Miami Brazilian Arts Institute now voluntarily provides the classes.

When the program began over two years ago, the children were unruly.  Mico recalls that it took the instructors nearly the entire class time just to get the children to behave and pay attention before they could teach Capoeira.  Now the kids are well-behaved, learning Portuguese through songs and improving their Capoeira skills.

“In an hour class, we would spend 55 minutes just trying to get them to pay attention,” Mico said. “It was really difficult.  For many days I left here kind of having mini freak outs, but I kept coming back.”

The program also encourages children to perform better academically.  In order to participate in Capoeira classes, they must turn in weekly academic progress reports.  Children with bad grades are placed on academic probation and must spend the Capoeira class doing their homework until their grades improve. Since the program started, the instructors have seen the children progress academically, as their grades have improved and fewer have been on academic probation.

“They get structure here that they don’t get at home,” said Natalie Castillo, program coordinator at Maculelê Miami Brazilian Arts Institute.

Gelene Bonilla, an 11-year-old student attending the Capoeira classes, is one of the many who has benefited from the program.   Mico said that when Bonilla began the program two years ago, she never smiled, never apologized and always looked unhappy.  Since then, due to the Capoeira training, she has matured and gained confidence.  She is now one of the best students in the class and spends her after-school time training instead of hanging out with older children in the community.

Tibwell and the instructors agree that the Capoeira classes provide an opportunity for the children, usually from Mexican or Central American heritage, to break free from the influence of drugs, gangs, violence and sexual behavior that surround them everyday inside the Redland Center.

“If it weren’t for the classes, they would come home, be out in the streets until the sun sets, not doing anything productive,” Castillo said. “And since there are a lot of drugs here, the kids are out and see it, and they would follow what they see.”

According to the Florida Department of Health, Florida ranks third in the nation in the number of persons living with HIV/AIDS. Nearly half of all cases in Florida reside in Miami-Dade and Broward counties.

Both Maculelê Miami Brazilian Arts Institute and Sembrando Flores try to address the problem by providing Capoeira as an alternative to behavior that might lead the at-risk children inside the Redland Center to contract HIV or get in trouble with the law.

Israel Prado, 30, a Mexican immigrant and father of three children in the Capoeira program has seen the difference the classes have made in the lives and behavior of his children. Though he forced them to attend the classes in the beginning, they now are eager to come because they enjoy it.

“The classes have helped them a lot and it has definitely changed and helped their behavior,” Prado said. “They were hyper and anxious, but now they are better behaved, a little bit more relaxed and focused on what they do.”

Prado said Capoeira classes will also help them be successful in the future, especially since their academic grades have improved.  He has seen the most academic improvement in Betsy, 8, one of his daughters, and his 6-year-old son, Israel, who now is enthusiastic about doing his homework.

In addition to Capoeira classes, Maculelê Miami Brazilian Arts Institute makes an effort to get involved in the children’s lives and keeping them out of trouble, particularly from getting involved with drugs that are prevalent in their community. They frequently sponsor day trips to Key Biscayne, to museums and to other parts of South Florida that the children wouldn’t otherwise know about.

In late March, instructors took three  girls from the class to the Brazil on the Beach event in Hollywood, Fla. To show of their Capoeira skills, and it early April, the class went to the Miami Art Museum for a field trip.

“Most of them had never been in a museum or the beach,” Castillo said. “They live in Miami, but they live in this different world where they think that the community is as big as it gets.”

Mico, Castillo and the other instructors try to expose these impoverished children to new things and new places, hoping to broaden the scope of what their students are used to and know. This includes riding an elevator, where most of them had never ridden before and were still talking about it a year later after their visit to one of Miami’s museums.

“This program is really special to us, and it’s our pride and joy,” Mico said, noting the positive impact it has on the children. “We are trying to turn them into good, productive citizens, and as they get older we will start seeing the benefits.”

A mural by Haitian-American artist Serge Toussaint on the corner of NE 2nd Ave. and 79th St. in Little Haiti. Photo by Daniela Dello Joio

The Haitian immigrant community in Miami is optimistic toward President Barack Obama but disappointed the new administration has not yet granted the long-awaited Temporary Protected Status.  TPS would allow Haitians to work in the United States legally and send money home to their families.

On a recent visit to Haiti to meet with Haitian President René Préval, Secretary of State Hillary Clinton announced that the United States will provide $287 million in aid this year to Haiti to fund the creation of jobs to build infrastructure and retire some of the country’s debt.  Hurricanes Gustav and Ike and two tropical storms swept through the Caribbean in less than a month in September 2008, destroying over 15 percent of Haiti’s GDP.

Regarding TPS, Clinton said that the new administration is looking carefully at the policy it inherited and is considering how best to help Haitians working in the United States and sending money back to their home countries.

“If we do make any changes in TPS status, it will go back to the beginning of the Obama administration,” Clinton said.  “People who were [in the United States] before President Obama became president would be eligible.  People who came after would not be.”  Secretary Clinton said no final decision has been made. 

Marlene Bastien, executive director of Fanm Ayisyen Nan Miyami/Haitian Women of Miami, a social advocacy program for Haitian families in Miami, said Haitians are looking to Obama to award them TPS.

 ”Justice delayed is justice denied,” Bastien said.  “President Bush denied TPS to Haitians twice despite the fact that Haiti qualifies more than any other country right now in light of the recent devastations caused by four hurricanes.”

 Clinton said that Obama has not yet granted TPS to Haitians because he and his advisors fear it will cause too many Haitians to immigrate to the United States.

 ”We don’t want to encourage other Haitians to make the dangerous journey across the water,” Clinton said.

 Bastien said the U.S. government’s assumption that TPS would cause a “mass exodus” of Haitians to the United States is “absurd.” 

 ”It makes strong economic, national security and humanitarian sense to help our closest and neediest neighbor - Haiti,” Bastien said.  “Every Haitian family that lives here supports 100 families in Haiti, so it actually makes more sense to allow them to stay here legally.”

 Jean-Robert Lafortune, chairman of the Haitian-American Grassroots Coalition, an immigrant advocacy group founded in Miami in 1997, said it is still too early to effectively predict whether the situation for Haitians in the United States and in Haiti will improve under the Obama administration.

“For the time being, he [Obama] has not sent any signal yet that Haitians will get fair treatment relative to immigration policy,” Lafortune said, adding that Haitians in Miami still have high expectations toward this new administration.  “It can’t get worse [than] during the Bush era.”

Jean Sintjoi, a resident in the area of downtown Miami known as Little Haiti, is optimistic. 

“I hope Obama understands that we voted for him to make sure that he gives us what we need because the Haitian community needs plenty of things,” he said.  “I know, I hope and I believe he is going to do something for us.”

Professor Yves Colon at the University of Miami School of Communication said sentiment in Little Haiti is positive because plans for development in Haiti during the eight years under the Bush administration were almost nonexistent.

“The only times Haitians in Miami heard from the Bush administration was when the administration was conducting deportations or [dealing] with immigration or drugs,” Colon said.  “Any change is good. That’s how I see Haitians in Little Haiti thinking.” 

Colon said that the fact that the new president is black is also a positive factor for the Haitian community in Miami.

“Haitians think that someone with a parent who is from a minority group, someone with that kind of sensibility, will have better feeling toward them and better understand what their needs are,” he said.

Visual signs of optimism for the Obama administration are everywhere in Little Haiti.  Murals of the new president populate about 10 street corners.  The murals feature large-scale portraits of the new president with phrases like, “Yes We Can,” and “President Obama, Little Haiti Wishes You the Best.”

“If I could meet him, I would ask him to help my people,” said Serge Toussaint, a Haitian graffiti artist responsible for some of the Obama murals in the Little Haiti area.  “We need help.”

Melissa Guerra, 23, uses her experience being forbidden from playing soccer in Venezuela to being a collegiate athlete to teach young girls in Miami Lakes, Fla. to play the sport. Photo by Corey Erb

It took Melissa Andreina Guerra, 23, a long time to go from watching her brother play soccer in Venezuela to being an American collegiate athlete and now teaching young girls the sport she loves.

Guerra grew up in Venezuela, where she wasn’t allowed to play soccer.

“It was a rough sport, a sport for boys,” she said.  “I wasn’t allowed to play because, due to our culture and our way of being, our family was all about an image.”

Gustavo Guerra, Melissa’s father, said that she was not the first female in the family to be restricted from playing sports.

“My wife’s father never let [my wife] play sports or do anything physical, not even riding a bike or learning how to swim because that was for men,” he said.

In the early 1990s, as a middle class family in Venezuela, the Guerras began feeling more in danger of being robbed or kidnapped in Caracas.

“If you have money in Venezuela, you’re not secure in the streets,” Melissa Guerra said.

Mr. Guerra ran an import-export company in Venezuela after studying in the United States.  He developed business ties between the two countries, hoping to eventually move to the United States. In April 1993, Gustavo and Janet Guerra immigrated with their children to South Florida.

Once the family had established a home in Miami Lakes, Fla., Guerra’s parents slowly warmed up to the idea of Melissa being around sports.  At the age of 10, Guerra became the “water girl” for her older brother’s recreational soccer team.  She was allowed to give the boys water, inflate the soccer balls and pick up the cups.

“[Being a water girl] was my way of being around the balls,” she said, adding that was how she learned the fundamentals of the game.  “What was accepted in my mother’s and father’s eyes was to be a water girl because I was servicing the boys.”

Guerra’s parents signed her up for etiquette classes, cheerleading teams and modeling lessons, but it wasn’t until the age of 12 that she was finally given the chance to play in a recreational soccer league.

“My father kind of stood up for me and said ‘you know what, let’s just give this a try,’” she said.

“Eventually, I let her play because I didn’t want her to be a frustrated individual,” Mr. Guerra said. “I didn’t want her to resent me for not letting her play the sport she loved.”

Melanie Guerra, 22, said she saw her older sister’s attitude change for the better once she was allowed to play soccer.

“She started developing into the person she wanted to be,” Melanie said.  “[Melissa became] a more positive person because she was fulfilling her own needs.”

Melissa moved up from a recreational league to traveling teams and eventually played in high school.  She then joined the women’s soccer team at St. Thomas University, where she earned a scholarship that allowed her to go to college for free while playing her favorite game.

Now Guerra coaches two different teams of young girls in Miami Lakes, the community where she was first given the chance to pursue her dream.

Her father believes that because of soccer his daughter is “a happier person and a leader.”

“To me, it’s an honor to see her as a coach,” he said.

Although soccer never came easy for Guerra, she says she doesn’t regret the efforts she had to undertake to be able to play.

“Soccer has been such a struggle in my life, and it’s made me who I am today,” she said.  “Now, I am giving back to the community what I once wanted to be given to me.”

Comeron sells her homemade headbands to a Perrine Elementary School mother. Photo by Gabriela Campos

Once a literature professor at the University of the Amazon in Brazil, Aldenora Comeron now makes a living selling homemade goods for parents and students out of a suitcase just outside Perrine Elementary School, near Homestead.

Originally from the city of Belém, in the northern state of Pará in Brazil, Comeron, 43, immigrated to Miami 12 years ago, after visiting the United States for the first time.

“I came on vacation and then went back to Brazil,” Comeron said. “Fifteen days later, I decided to come live in Miami for good.”

In 1997, after immigrating to Miami, Comeron was able to buy her own house with the money she had brought from Brazil and the money she was making cleaning houses. But that all soon changed, once she married a Cuban-American one year after arriving in Miami.

“Before getting married, I had my own house and I worked,” Comeron said. “But my husband took everything I had.”

From the very beginning of their marriage, Comeron suffered from domestic abuse.  Jorge Comeron never physically hit her, but she said he was emotionally abusive and prevented her from working outside their home and doing things she loved.

Things got worse once their two children, Bryan, 9, and Alcimarina, 7, were born.  He started stealing money from Comeron’s personal bank account.
“My husband used to take money out of my account and didn’t pay our mortgage,” she said.

When the family was evicted from their home, her husband took off with the car and the rest of their money.  Comeron said her husband left them with nothing and kept constantly tormenting her on the phone.  She said he once threatened to run her and their children over with a car.

“He left me in the streets with nothing but my children,” she said. “We had to start from scratch, with absolutely nothing.”

In an attempt to avoid paying alimony or child support after Comeron filed for divorce, her husband tried to get Comeron and their children deported back to Brazil by telling the U.S. government that she was living in the United States with false documents.  That is when Comeron learned that the Social Security card and work permit she had paid her husband US$3,000 to get from his lawyer were fake.

After meeting a Brazilian lawyer who took on her case, Comeron was able to obtain residency thanks to the Immigration and Nationality Act, the Battered Immigrant Women Protection Act of 2000 and the Violence Against Women Act of 1994.

“Many women suffer silently without knowing that the rule of law is on their side,” Celia Gore, her lawyer, said. “Aldenora was one of these cases, and she was also one of the few cases that I took on pro bono.”

Comeron then was able to move with her children into the Safespace Shelter in South Miami.  The Safespace Foundation is a non-profit organization dedicated to providing support and safety for women and children victims of domestic violence. There, they shared a room with four beds and one bathroom with four other families. All of the women and children living there had been victims of domestic violence.

“At Safespace it was 55 mothers, 55 different stories and each one worse than the other,” Comeron said.  “It was really hard living in places like these.”

Comeron recalls staying up every night inside the closet crocheting and watching over her sleeping children in fear that someone would hurt them. She also was constantly a victim of theft inside the shelters, where women and children would steal clothes and the few belongings she still had.

Following their four-month stay in Safespace, the family moved to the In Transition Shelter, where she and the children were able to live more spaciously in their own apartment with government protection for another year and four months.

After creating crochet clothes, accessories and kitchen wear, Comeron spent much of her time selling her homemade goods in front of malls and churches while her children sat patiently next to her.

When she finally made enough money to move her family out of the shelter, her credit record prevented her from renting out an apartment.

“No one wanted to rent me an apartment with two children, and so it was hard since I didn’t have a car or anything because he [her husband] took everything I had,” Comeron said.

Finally, a Brazilian landlord in an apartment complex in Perrine gave the Comeron family a chance and rented her family the apartment where she and the children live today.

Currently, Comeron earns a living and is able to pay rent by selling her homemade goods in flea markets and outside her children’s school, cleaning houses and selling home appliances as a door-to-door sales representative for Carico International and Rainbow Power.

Comeron works every day of the week to support her children, who are both gifted students at Perrine Elementary School.

“She is really creative and works hard,” her son, Bryan, said.

Comeron has no regrets about immigrating to Miami and plans to stay in the United States, so her children can fulfill their dreams of becoming a lawyer and pediatrician.

“It’s time to move forward,” Comeron said enthusiastically. “That’s why we are here, because I know that here we are going to have a better future.”

According to the U.S. government, three to four million women suffer from domestic abuse in the United States each year.

“There is a lack of communication and fear,” Gore said. “The hardest part is trying to convince the women to call 911.”

Comeron agrees.  “Women have to stand up for themselves.”