The Lonely Londoners

"Wherever in London that it have Working Class, there you will find a lot of spades."

Samuel Selvon's short novel, The Lonely Londoners, expertly captures the Caribbean migrant experience in London. Chronicling the experiences of a group, consisting mostly of men, through a series of interconnected vignettes. The uprooting experience of migration, particularly as a stigmatized racial group, leads to numerous powerful, distressing stories of the cruel and inhospitable environment the early waves of West Indians faced in London. 

Despite being British subjects and serving in the War for Britain, racism in housing, labor, sex, and the Othering experience these West Indians face provide insurmountable obstacles that provoke deep reflection in the aptly named Moses, one of the leaders of the West Indian men in London for being there longer than most others. Due to his experience, Moses guides later arrivals, and the community of West Indians grows and emulates aspects of its past while being forever changed. 

Aspects of their West Indian societies remain (colorism, the lively market women tradition, calypso music), particularly their nostalgia for their homeland, but gradually the migrants accustom themselves to the bitter winter, fog, daily racism, and false promises of streets paved with gold. Like the best immigrant literature, the disillusionment or disappointment of the migrant experience is the overarching theme, exemplified by Moses's troubling indecisiveness about returning to Trinidad. 

The novel's key themes are undoubtedly universal, particularly in the alienation and social divisions that inhibit communities. The class system, for example, is powerfully invoked to place poor West Indians in a social context in which class identities are seemingly accepted by all. Gender, romance, and love are similarly deformed by the city, which turns to cheap thrills, prostitution, and sexual depravities as the only intimacy. Marriage is not seen as viable by these early Caribbean migrants, because marriage with white women leads to problems with racism from the spouse's family, and racism against mixed-race children. And like poor whites, when not able to find work, Afro-Caribbean migrants' only option was to try to get on welfare and barely subsist until they can find low-paying work below their qualifications.

Selvon's use of symbolism and inventive language (drawing on his Trinidadian vernacular English, of course) is also noteworthy, from the symbolic use of seagulls and pigeons to mirror the migrant experience of these black West Indians, to the chapter consisting of a single sentence lacking any and all punctuation. Selvon's brush with more experimental prose, clever combination of dialect and Standard English, and local slang add humor, context, and realism to a work of fiction. One can see how this novel influenced later multicultural writers from London, such as Zadie Smith, who also writes about Jamaican and West Indian communities in London, interracial families, etc. 

I must also add that this novel reminded me of two other novels, one by Tayeb Salih from Sudan (Season of a Migration to the North) and Gisèle Pineau, a French writer with parents from Guadeloupe. The former's novel features a character who spent several years in London, experiencing the same racism as Selvon's West Indians and African character (Cap) from whites who only see blacks as sexualized primitives, who are continually dehumanized. 

In the latter's work, Exile According to Julia, I see some similarities between the old Jamaican woman, Tanty, in The Lonely Londoners, and Julia, the grandmother in Pineau's novel. Both are older Caribbean woman living in European metropolitan cities who are described in rather humorous ways, which is suggestive of some of the parallels between Caribbean communities in different European countries as they struggle to grow accustomed to the climate, form families, assimilate, and survive.

Los Cocolos

Another interesting video on West Indian migration to the Dominican Republic.

French Antilleans in Haiti: Guadeloupe and Martinique

Edouard Bloncourt in the Blue Book of Haiti. His import-export business in Cap-Haitien was predated by his merchant past in Port-de-Paix. The Bloncourt family is from Guadeloupe, and Edouard was likely the relative who assisted Yves Bloncourt when he came to Haiti after WWI.

The presence of Afro-descendants or even white Creoles from Martinique and Guadeloupe in Haiti during the 19th and early 20th centuries is surprisingly difficult to investigate. Perhaps due to their cultural and linguistic similarities, the 1500 or more French Antilleans who came to Haiti during the aforementioned period are harder to locate than Syriens or Anglophone West Indian immigrants. The vast majority, according to Zacair, who relied heavily on French consul reports, were from Guadeloupe. Many married into Haitian families and therefore a large number of Haitians today can trace their ancestry to the French Caribbean. The Bloncourt, Boutin, Rabouin, de Catalogne, Demeuran, and many other families have ancestors who came to Haiti during this era, particularly after 1848. Many were "mulattoes" of the professional and bourgeois classes who established maisons de commerce in various Haitian port cities, like the Boutin family in St. Marc. Others were artisans, musicians, mechanics, educators, engineers, merchants, street vendors, laborers, and skilled workers, searching for opportunities beyond the confines of their colonial homes. Like Anglophone Caribbean migrants, such people were possibly also inspired by the idea of living under a black-ruled government where racial discrimination would not curb their freedom.

Gérard de Catalogne is in the second row, second from the left. Son of a Creole father from Martinique and a Haitian woman, de Catalogne diffused the reactionary ideas of Maurras in Haiti.

Indeed, the concentration of land ownership among the white plantocracy after 1848, plus restrictions on the newly freed and "free colored" class after emancipation would have been enough push factors to make Haiti an attractive location. Many former slaves found themselves trapped, working for their former masters as poorly paid plantation laborers. It is also probable that many in Guadeloupe and Martinique saw independent Haiti as a model for the Caribbean. In fact, long before 1848, free people of color from the French Antilles were in Haiti (not to mention connections during Haiti's colonial period). One Edmond Thetis of Martinique served in the army of Henri Christophe before returning to Martinique in 1811, implicated in a revolt. Joseph Saint-Remy, who wrote a biography of Alexandre Petion, was a Haitian born in Guadeloupe. His parents, inspired by Haiti's racially inclusive Constitution of 1816, which invited anyone and everyone of African or Amerindian descent the right to Haitian citizenship, eventually chose to resettle in Haiti.

Migrants from Martinique and other parts of the Antilles were identified as street vendors and artisans in Cap-Haitien and other towns of the Republic, as this 1892 article illustrates.

Saint-Remy's father, a carpenter, brought the family to Les Cayes. The same biographical notice in Saint-Remy's book also claims the father and grandfather of President Salomon were originally from the French Antilles, suggesting another politically important family of French Caribbean roots. Besides the several families from the French Antilles who came to Haiti during this era, Cyril Bissette, whose Revue des colonies published Haitian writer Ignace Nau, also invested time and labor in defending Haiti from what he saw as Schoelcher's attempts to paint Haitian society as hopelessly divided into black versus "mulatto" castes. Bissette even saw Haiti's potential as the capital of a future Caribbean confederation. Of course, one must not forget Guillaume Guillon-Lethière, a Guadeloupe-born artist, who painted The Oath of Our Ancestors. This famous painting of the Haitian Revolution and the uniting of blacks and "mulattoes," with the will of God, must have signified dignity and liberty for oppressed slaves and free people of color living before 1848.  Of course, there were exceptions to favorable views of Haiti among French Caribbean people of color, as the case of Victor Cochinat  in the late 19th century reveals. The journalist from Martinique's vitriolic articles triggered a response from Louis Joseph Janvier, which demonstrates another side of French Caribbean perceptions of Haiti.

Marc Boutin, born in St. Marc to parents from Guadeloupe, inherited his father's maison de commerce. Along with his mother, the family expanded the business to include Port-au-Prince. Aubin also refers to him as one of the French subjects owning land in Haiti. In his case, it was Caradeux, in the Cul de Sac plain. 

Clearly, Haiti was already etched into the minds of many in Guadeloupe and Martinique, perhaps especially so with educated free people of color. Haiti likely appealed to blacks in Martinique and Guadeloupe after 1848. The rise of a socialist party and labor movement in Guadeloupe by the 1890s, one that was specifically linking race and class, may have seen in the Haitian revolutionary past something inspirational. More work needs to be done exploring this, particularly on Hégésippe Jean Légitimus and allusions to Haiti among black workers of the late 19th century. His opponents, for instance, sought to compare him to "savage" Haiti, going so far as calling him a papa loi. For others, Haiti may have signified something else. For example, by the time the Third Republic arose, the "mulatto bourgeoisie" of Martinique were identified by metropolitan authorities as pro-republican and the best local allies. This process is summarized quite well in Church's Paradise Destroyed: Catastrophe and Citizenship in the French Caribbean, which unfortunately does not explore the Haitian connection or the ways in which natural catastrophes may have encouraged migration to Haiti.

Dr. Justin Castera of Jacmel was a martiniquais descent.

It very well could be the preference shown by many French Caribbean businessmen for the Liberals in Haiti was related to their liberal bourgeois politics. This shared fervor for liberalism, plus growing personal ties through marriage, cemented their attachment to the Liberal party. As one would expect, their open sympathy caused tensions with the Haitian government. For example, Ludovic Goubault's transparent support for Haitian rebels in Jeremie during the 1883 revolt illustrates how French West Indians intervened in the political affairs of Haiti. In addition to business and marriage with the Haitian upper classes, some even served in the Haitian military or married into the families of generals. According to Thorald Burnham, Andre de Thomas, for example, married the daughter of a major general and served as his attaché. This gave the "moucas" a surprisingly large influence in Haiti.  Consequently, going to the Black Republic may have meant not solely economic opportunity in commerce, but a chance to participate in the affairs of an independent republic.

Gaston Gerville-Réache worked as a teacher in Port-au-Prince for a short time. Once elected to the French National Assembly, he spoke for Guadeloupeans in Haiti during the turbulent year of 1883. In Paris, he also contributed to Benito Sylvain's La Fraternité . Unlike him, other French Caribbean educators, musicians and professionals stayed in Haiti. Louis Astrée, for instance, was a major figure in 19th century Haitian music as the director of the Musique du Palais.

But, who exactly were these immigrants? How were they received by the Haitian population? Did they chose to become Haitian citizens? After consulting Zacair's article and some of the sources, their position in Haiti was often paradoxical. For instance, they were able to practice professions in Haiti that were prohibited to foreigners. Others, despite marrying Haitians and establishing close ties with the Haitian political and economic elite, exploited their status as French subjects to make inflated claims on the Haitian government for compensation during moments of political turmoil. In fact, some of these French Caribbeans became consuls, while others were involved in larger French commerce or financial interests. As one can expect, French Antilleans, as well as other black immigrants, were occasionally attacked by Haitian political figures for their exploitative behavior and refusing to become Haitian citizens. In terms population and demographics, the "moucas" or French Antillean subjects were clearly an important presence. Indeed, they were numerous enough to form their own quarter in Cap-Haitien, by Bas de la Ravine. In Port-au-Prince, French and French Caribbean residents were involved in a mutual aid society, but Zacair hints at intra-community tensions as the business community sought to exclude workers from Guadeloupe and Martinique from the benefits of the society. Intellectually, some, such as Fernand Keitel, launched Le Cable, a Capois journal highlighted by Marc Péan. For most of the aforementioned groups, assimilation seems to have occurred relatively quickly. This was likely the case for the lower classes, too.  A cursory exploration of Haitian literary references to the French Antilles also sugguests this. Velleda Petite-Caille, in Justin Lhérisson's famous novel may be the best early example.

The Monfleury usine for the preparation of coffee. Aubin claimed Monfleury père  to be of Martinican origin.

As a card reader, she attracts a wealthy clientele, ultimately launching her husband into high society of fin de siècle Port-au-Prince. But Velleda, who does not come from the Martinique "mulatto" bourgeoisie. So, she continues to mispronounce some French phrases, thereby demonstrating an affinity with uneducated lower-class Haitian Creole speakers, whose elocution was also mocked by their social superiors. However, she was not a target of derision or singled out for her origins in Martinique, and her marriage with Eliézer suggests a great degree of cultural compatibility. Unfortunately, her fate does not end well in the novel, but there is no suggestion of bias or exclusive attitudes towards her due to her non-Haitian origins. Perhaps the ease at which she could establish a reputation for fortune-telling is matched by those of the French Antilles who could join Vodou congregations. Burnham alludes to Civil Blain, a Martinican in 19th century Bel Air, who left behind a lakou bearing his name. It is reasonably clear that the lower class waves of migrants from the French Caribbean were capable of assimiling well with locals in the urban popular quarters. Their skin color, language, and the ease with which they could travel into the interior of Haiti likely facilitated this, which perhaps masked their presence in the archives. Many practiced small trades in towns like St. Marc, Port-au-Prince, Cap-Haitien, Aux Cayes, Jacmel, or Gonaives, which brought them into regular contact with Haitians of all backgrounds. Perhaps the commonality of language and culture enabled positive interactions or professional relations, as well as marriage and progeny.

A bizarre story involving from Oct 1900 involving a Haitian woman and her husband from Martinique or Guadeloupe. 

In Eugène Aubin's En Haïti; planteurs d'autrefois, nègres d'aujourd'hui, published five years before the US Occupation, direct accounts of French West Indians abound. Aubin describes landholders, owners of usines for the preparation of coffee, a pious woman from Guadeloupe, an engineer by the name of Emmanuel Odeide working for the Manneville habitation, merchants, and spouses. Examples of their presence abound, such as the wife of General Dorsey Falaise of Croix des Bouquets, a Guadeloupean woman. These French West Indians are described by Aubin as mixing with locals due to language and color. However, his account also attests to their significance in new developments in the economy. Perhaps the business end of the French Caribbean community was ultimately negative for economic development by encouraging dependency on foreign imports, but during the 1870s and 1880s, they introduced some new technology in the coffee industry. Octave Francis, a "mulatto," was identified as one of the first to establish a usine for preparing coffee, in Petionville. Francis's mother was from Martinique while his father was from St. Thomas. While they may not have directly controlled the production of coffee, Francis, Monfleury, and other foreign-owned usines improved the quality of Haitian coffee, thereby increasing prices on the global market while, in some cases, weakening their Haitian intermediaries.

Yves Bloncourt was an early proponent of the Boy Scouts in Haiti.

Another family with origins in Martinique, the Montfleury, were associated with the usine in Carrefour, which was expanded by the two Montfleury sons and a French partner, Bertin.  Their usine employed 50 employees and 150 trieuses, leading to a new community to service the workers in the area. Some also contributed to tentative steps towards restoring sugar production or large-scale production in the Cul-de-Sac plain by providing essential services, like mechanics, management or engineering. A letter to a Haitian who criticized Martinican and Guadeloupean residents was published in Le Nouvelliste. The author, A. Charlesin, appears to be a Martinican or Guadeloupean forger-mechanic working in Haiti. Meanwhile, Zacair describes one who managed a plantation near Leogane managed by a French Antillean. Haiti en 1886 mentions a Martinican horticulteur known throughout Port-au-Prince. Thus, their presence was linked to early capitalist intrusion into the Haitian economy and new industries and businesses, shaping new social relations and methods of production while simultaneously weakening the local merchant class.

President Louis Borno was the son of a naturalized Haitian from Guadeloupe. His non-Haitian roots were a subject of concern to Jacques Roumain, who criticized Borno for being a puppet president of the US Occupation. 

Despite difficulties in knowing exactly how many French Caribbean peoples were in Haiti during the 19th and 20th centuries, their influence likely surpassed their actual numbers. Through commerce, education, music, the arts, and industry, migrants brought with them new ideas, concepts, and interactions which connected Haiti and the French Antilles within the archipelago and their diasporas in France. The Bloncourt family, for instance, had branches in Haiti and Guadeloupe, while Haitian presidents with origins in Martinique and Guadeloupe can be found in the Duvaliers and Louis Borno. Gerard de Catalogne, a descendant of a Martinican and a Haitian woman, was a major figure in 20th century Haitian journalism and politics. In Paris, Haitians such as Firmin brushed shoulders with Adolphe Lara of Guadeloupe. Thus, the French Caribbean and Haiti enjoyed a mutual influence in which the earlier migrations of Martinicans or Guadeloupeans was a pivotal part. The French Caribbean residents in Haiti may have also been influential in aspects of folklore and Vodou dance. Unsurprisingly, the paradoxical relationship of these migrants with Haiti and France illustrates a semi-colonial character in Haiti-France relations. The political independence of Haiti was gradually eroded as France, Germany, and, by the 20th century, the US, increasingly dominated its economic affairs. Those of Martinique or Guadeloupe roots knowingly or unknowingly contributed to this development, even if adopting Haitian citizenship, by encouraging the cultural orientation of the Haitian elite.

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.