Annette Baptiste* still cries when she thinks about what the United States did to her ten years ago on its Naval Base in Guantánamo, Cuba. Sitting in her Brooklyn apartment, she recalls how the United States detained her and 276 fellow Haitians in the Alcatraz of refugee camps, imprisoning them for some eighteen months simply because they, or their loved ones, had HIV. "I relive Guantánamo every day," she says in Creole. "It's all in my head."
Guantánamo is also in Pierre Avril's* head, say the friends who looked after him in the United States. Avril was just 14 when he arrived at Guantánamo, and the trauma of the experience--the fear, the uncertainty, the stigma--left permanent damage. Today he is once again in detention, this time in a psychiatric correctional facility in upstate New York.
Joel Saintil* never even had the luxury of post-traumatic stress. He died just days after he was freed from the camp, at the age of 26. For months, human rights attorneys had begged the Immigration and Naturalization Service (INS) to send Saintil and other gravely ill Haitians for treatment in the United States, but the agency had refused until a federal district court judge ordered the sickest released. Saintil was flown to his father's house in Florida, but it was already too late. He became one of the camp's first casualties.
This June marked the tenth anniversary of the closing of the Guantánamo HIV Camp, one of the world's first, and only, detention centers for people with HIV/AIDS. Today the story is all but forgotten, but at the time it captured people's conscience, and its demise made headlines.
http://www.thenation.com/doc/20030721/ratner