Creole-speaking Marine plays key communications role

It's his first trip back to the land of his birth.
SOUTH FLORIDA SUN-SENTINEL
PORT-AU-PRINCE, Haiti -- Growing up on Miami's streets, James J. Beauvais never thought about teaching for a living. But that changed in February when the U.S. Marines sent him to Haiti.
"I grew up speaking Creole at home but I never thought I would be teaching it to anyone," says Beauvais, stationed in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, who volunteered to teach Creole to other Marines sent to Haiti after President Jean-Bertrand Aristide fled the nation.
"Open the door. We are not here to hurt you. Do you speak English?" says Beauvais, in a booming voice, as a group of about 60 soldiers sits on concrete bleachers, taking notes and practicing the Creole phrases that could save their lives.
The language classes are part of Beauvais' new life as member of an international military force that arrived in February after Aristide fled under pressure from rebel leaders and anti-government opposition groups.
About 2,000 U.S. soldiers are deployed alongside French, Canadian and Chilean troops. They are slated to remain until June 1 when the United Nations is expected to send in peacekeeping forces.
Special significance
But for Beauvais, 26, this mission holds a special significance: It is his first trip back to the place where he was born.
"I never thought to come back before this. My parents told me stories about how poor it was, how things were so difficult but until I got here I had no idea (of) the level of poverty," he says, standing in a former cigarette factory's soccer field that now doubles as his makeshift classroom.
Beauvais is among the 20 Haitian-Americans serving in this Caribbean nation of 8 million. For some, it is a chance to discover a place that only existed as a blurry childhood memory.
"I really don't remember very much about the place. It is almost like going to Japan in that I really didn't know anything about either one," he says.
In 1983, when he was 5, Beauvais and his mother moved from Port-au-Prince to Miami to join his father. His family, including two brothers, a sister and grandmother, still live in South Florida. The family spoke Creole at home and even though Beauvais often spoke English, his close relationship to his grandmother helped him remain fluent. "I guess I never realized how much I maintained my Creole," he says.
Disarmament sweeps
A radio operator, Beauvais joined the military six years ago. Now his special language skills have changed his military role in Haiti. In addition to teaching biweekly Creole classes, he recently joined a unit sent into one of the capital city's most dangerous slums to conduct a disarmament sweep.
"My job was to go in front of the raid and tell those inside to come outside," he says. "I've never done anything like that but I was attached to the unit because of my language skills."
The raid turned up little and while no one was hurt it was a tense time for Beauvais. Such sweeps are rare for Marines, who are caught between their role as peacekeepers and locals' demands that they disarm thugs and gangs, some of whom are Aristide loyalists. The sweeps, and other actions, have turned up only about 100 weapons, authorities say.
U.S. officials insist their role in disarming Haitians is limited to confiscating illegal weapons and acting on intelligence to locate weapon caches and assisting Haiti's National Police.
While Haiti produces no guns, many residents are heavily armed, some with antique weapons, others with modern automatic rifles used during the most recent outbreak of violence and death.