By Dhanpaul Narine
The city is a magnet. People gravitate to it from everywhere. They want to escape poverty and start a new life. They bring ideas, different ways of doing things, and in a short span of time, migrants begin to leave an imprint on city life. In developing countries, where there is free movement, the trek from village to the city is quite common. It is argued that unregulated internal migration into cities leave the rural infrastructure neglected. There is the ongoing debate about the impact of the centre pulling the periphery in development economics. But there can be little doubt that in the metropolis migrants tend to be better off than in the farms.
In New York City, migration has increased in the enclaves of South-East Queens with the arrival of Indo-Caribbeans. These are the descendants of people of India who have become part of the second wave of migration, the first being from India to the Caribbean in 1838. Who are the second-generation Indo-Caribbeans? Their ancestry is from India; they speak no Hindi but wear Indian fashions, sing Bollywood songs, watch the movies, and at times claim proudly to be Indian. They build mandirs, mosques and churches and they own businesses that sell a wide variety of Indian items, and their dream is to visit India one day.
Indo-Caribbeans then cling to pieces of India without being fully Indian. It allows them to traverse different worlds without having to conform, in a dogmatic way, to a calendar of rituals. They can sing chutney songs, enjoy reggae and calypso, watch Bollywood movies, eat whatever they choose, worship in Indian garb, and marry in the traditions of their forefathers.
By the year 2000, the Indo-Caribbean presence in South Queens had begun to put pressure on existing services. Queens was seen as the likeliest place for residence as it was close to all forms of transportation. It had good schools, readily available foodstuff in the West Indian stores, and the making of a thriving community. But Indo-Caribbean migration led to a public outcry from the other communities that there was overcrowding in the schools, a pile-up of garbage, noise pollution, and pressure on the existing housing stock. In the developing world, people house themselves with what is available. One could find cities of cardboards and flimsy zinc and newspaper dwellings. But in New York, housing and residence had to conform to standards.
Indo-Caribbeans found that there was a shortage of cheap affordable housing in Queens. In 2000, the Queens Borough President, Claire Schulman, in a State of the Borough address said that, ‘at least 50,000 new housing units would be required to adequately house residents.’ But in the fiscal year 2000 to 2001, only 2,000 units were built. Lack of funds by the city, the failure of the Borough to demarcate public lands for housing, and policies to involve public-private partnerships resulted in a low housing stock. In the meantime, the numbers migrating into Queens added considerable pressure on the limited supply.
On arrival in Queens, a migrant may stay with relatives for a period of time. But he or she would want to find separate accommodation. The most convenient form of occupancy at the time was basement rental. Basements were relatively cheap. The income derived was tax-free and could be used by landlords to defray the principals on their mortgage. It also gave tenants the opportunity to save and to eventually purchase their own homes. A random survey in 1997, from Hillside Avenue to the South Conduit, showed that there were over a thousand Indo-Caribbeans renting basements. The increase in basement occupancy did not sit well with the rest of the community. Hundreds of complaints were made to the Buildings Department and what was once known as mother-daughter dwellings were given a new name: illegal conversions. Many landlords complained that they had bought their homes with basements already rented or that they made no alterations to the existing structure.
A number of special interest groups petitioned the mayor’s office to take action. Mayor Rudy Giuliani said he would increase the number of building inspectors to crack down on illegal conversions. According to the Mayor, ‘illegal conversions have had an adverse impact on tenants, their neighbors, our school-children, and virtually every citizen that lives in the area.’ This opened the floodgates for action at different levels. Civic Associations would drive by private homes and look for the tell-tale signs that include additional garbage pails, double mailboxes and parked cars. There were reports that officials from the city would wait for hours to determine if a one-family home was sublet to tenants.
The Richmond Hill Block Association took the lead in reporting illegal conversions to the Buildings Department. In a newsletter in October 1997, it stated that, ‘the increased threat to life from this overcrowding, the additional burden on electric wiring, fire department response, refuse collection, and schools, involves all of us.’ The Block Association provided specially printed forms for people to complete. The information with home addresses was duly passed on to the Buildings Department. Many landlords were caught in a bind. They felt that basement rental was proper and legal. While the city deemed them to be illegal, the message on local television real estate programmes was that ‘finished basements would bring in extra income.’ The city had no interest in listening to the concerns of landlords.
In November 1997, the situation had reached a crisis. A total of 300 landlords were issued with summons. This meant they had to evict their tenants, appear in housing courts and pay a fine. The fine could range from between a thousand to five thousand dollars for a first offence. Indo-Caribbeans had not shown any great interest in the affairs of the city. Most of them knew little about who their representatives were in the City Council, or in Congress. They could enunciate more about the politics in Guyana and Trinidad rather than the happenings in their own communities. But now they were hurting financially, and something had to be done.
The Federation of Hindu Mandirs met with the Richmond Hill Business Association and Community Board 9 to discuss the matter. A meeting was called in Jamaica Avenue in a hall that could accommodate two hundred persons. A thousand persons showed up with people spilling on the sidewalks. Residents complained that the Building Inspectors would say that they were acting on reports by neighbours, and that once a complaint was received, they had to act. The Federation argued if that were the case, one person could jot down the addresses of the entire neighbourhood, and hold the community to ransom. It was decided that a further meeting was necessary and it was set for December 1997.
The Buildings Inspector attended this meeting and reaffirmed that his department was merely carrying out the law. It was pointed out that there was selective enforcement since Indo-Caribbeans were targeted. The community was advised to lobby their elected representatives for a change in the law. The meeting ended in a stalemate but one positive outcome was the formation of the Richmond Hill Coalition of Concerned Citizens, comprising a number of organizations.
Mayor Giuliani was determined to stamp out illegal conversions. He told the City Council that he would hire more building inspectors and would create an illegal conversion task force which would work overtime, and on weekends, to ferret out illegal conversions. The New York Times, in October 1997, reported that illegal conversions had pitted old timers against new arrivals and that the community in South Queens had to contend with the ‘smell of curry or the sound of merengue wafting from kitchens.’ If this wasn’t enough, the statistics told a different story. In 1997, the number of complaints for illegal conversions in Staten Island was 58 when compared to 6,600 for Queens, the majority targeted was in the Indo-Caribbean areas. The city hired 30 new building inspectors and deployed 25 to Queens.
A public rally on the grounds of the Masjid-al-Abidin, in Liberty Avenue, drew hundreds of protestors. In the next few weeks, the city came out with a bill: Intro 363. If passed, this bill would make it possible for banks to recall their mortgages to homeowners. The Internal Revenue Service (IRS) could ask for audited tax returns to look for undeclared incomes. The Indo-Caribbean community decided to oppose Intro 363. Businessman Ed Ahmad hired a number of buses to transport people to protest the bill.
There were hundreds of demonstrators in Manhattan with placards, and in full view of the media, as leaders gave testimony in the chambers. Attorney Kawal Totaram was most effective in his presentation. He said that, ‘Building Inspectors come on our Sabbath. There is no finesse, no manners. It is a total disrespect and disregard for us as a people and citizens.’ Prime time television interviewed residents who spoke out against the bill. By the end of the day, Intro 363 was withdrawn and the Indo-Caribbean community celebrated a victory for activism. But this did not mean an end to illegal conversion or visits from building inspectors. In 2000, the city came up with a proposal in which basements could be regularized and be converted for entertainment spaces. This drastically reduced the renting of basements as many Indo-Caribbean landlords adhered to the regulations. A year later the world changed.
Tragedy struck America in 2001. It was a clear and sunny September morning when the Twin Towers fell and with them thousands of innocent lives. The victims were from at least 102 countries. The Caribbean suffered heavily with over 100 victims. Tributes should be paid to them, and indeed all the victims. The events of September 11, 2001 were surreal for the Indo-Caribbean community in Queens. An open lot in Liberty Avenue was donated by Trevor Rupnarain for remembrances. The tragedy hit home when family members turned up with photographs of the deceased and stood in respectful silence as the names were read. Each victim had a unique and special story that tugged at the heart.
By the end of the first week, Lower Manhattan was the sight of dust, ash, and torment. Each loss brought home the sad reality that life would be poorer without these heroic souls. What does one tell the mother whose only two children bid her goodbye on 9/11 and never returned? As the smoke left, the rubble was christened Ground Zero. Many questions were asked as to the cause of the tragedy. The Guyanese and Trinidadian communities joined hands and planned a parade in Liberty Avenue to honour the victims, and candles were lit and prayers recited. Guyana’s then president Mr. Bharrat Jagdeo in his message said that, ‘the tragedy was an assault on all of us. We must seek the peace that several of our faiths teach, and we must promote it to our children so that ours will be a better world.’
The parade was followed by memorial prayer services in the homes of the victims. The Federation of Hindu Mandirs, Masjid-al-Abidin, the United Muslim Organization and Father Michael Day, conducted these services that brought comfort to the families. But America was never the same again. There was suspicion and hate between some ethnic groups with Sikhs facing the brunt of attacks in a number of States. The United States issued various checks on travelers. By 2002, a brave new world had opened up for the adventurous in Queens. Many Indo-Caribbeans were tired of illegal conversions, and building inspectors, and the oppressive burden of living on top of each other. The bus took off from Richmond Hill and turned into Schenectady, to the sound of chutney music. A smiling Mayor Al Jurczynski waved his arms in welcome. A new chapter of the Indo-Caribbean experience was about to begin. (Part 3, Politics, Covid, and the Future).
Discussion