By MARCO POGGIO
Inside a little deli in the little Indian and Bengali enclave of Curry Hill, a Manhattan neighborhood in the East 20’s and 30’s, Mhamud Hasan, the owner, is talking to some friends at the entrance of his tiny store, standing at the doorway.
The deli, called “Dhaka” after the capital of Bangladesh, is really small. Two men standing next to each other would be enough to block anyone from passing through. The deli serves Bengali food, pre-made, since there is no kitchen, and many of the patrons are cab drivers in search for a little snack and a chat with the owner. Outside, yellow taxicabs line up empty near the curb.
On the front window facing 28th Street, a sign says “Grade Pending.” The sign is from the Department of Health and Mental Hygiene of the City of New York, which has inspected the place nearly two-months ago. The inspector found that the place had some cleanliness problems and the temperature inside the refrigerator was irregular.
Hasan said he received $6000 in fines and more than 25 points of violations of the Health Code of the department. He is appealing through the Office of Administrative Trials and Hearings, to overturn half of those fines and their consequent fines.
“My store was closed for thirteen days,” Hasan said, “now I can’t cover the rent.” His income varies between $12,000 and $16,000 per month, but his business is losing because of the letter grade posted on his door. The rent for that little space costs him $4660 per month. With insurance, electricity bills and sanitation to pay for, Hasan said, it became hard make ends meet; to the point that he had to rack up credit card debt and get loans from a bank and from friends.
Hasan, like many people in the food business, has complaints about the grading system and how the city applies it. Some deli and restaurant owners say that the grading is so finely calibrated that a few points off can push a restaurant from one grade to another. Others say charge it is just another way for the city to raise funds. Under new rules proposed in March, restaurant and deli owners will be able pay for a penalty-free consultation before their official inspection so they can get a sense of where their issues are and remedy them in advance.
According to the online portal of the Health Department and Mental Hygiene, which posts the inspection scores for all licensed restaurants in New York City, Dhaka Deli was fined for 77 points during a previous inspection, in January. Most of those violations concerned the temperature, the way the food was stored, and also the presence of live roaches; these are so-called “critical violations,” which are marked with a minimum of five points but can be higher, according the severity of the case.
Diners can consult the Health Department’s website anytime, and thanks to a phone app., they can see what violations a restaurant has when they walk by. However, most people simply trust the letter grade posted on the door. An A is an indication of cleanliness; a B is a place that could be cleaner, but could still be ok to dine in. A C is a turn off.
During a survey conducted by Baruch College in 2012, on behalf of the Health Department, 88 percent of the surveyed said to be taking into consideration the letter grade when they decide where to dine. The study surveyed 511 people, but it’s very likely to be representative of the population of New York City.
According to Dr. Mary Bassett, named Health Commissioner by Mayor de Blasio in January, “Restaurant letter grading began as a way to motivate restaurants to practice better food safety and allow the public to make more informed decision about where to safely dine.”
Yet nearly four years after the system came into effect in 2010, the majority of restaurant owners are all but skeptical letter grades are really making customers informed.
“What they claimed they are trying to do is to benefit the consumers,” said Matt Ward, 39, the owner of Paul’s Da Burger Joint, a popular restaurant in the East Village frequented by longtime New Yorkers, as well as many tourists and cops. “The problem with the system is that the public doesn’t understand the difference between an A and a B, or B and a C,” Ward continued, “It can be as simple as you ran out of soap in the men’s room.”
According to many business owners, the verdict of an inspection is often unpredictable, as many contingent factors might result in several violations and fines.
Steve Yan, 41, owner of Super Taste, a hand-pulled noodle restaurant on Eldridge Street, in Chinatown, explained the violations he received during a recent inspection. First, the cashier left a wet rag on a table after cleaning it. The Health Department inspector came in and saw it: five points of violation. Then, the inspector noticed some water under a sink used to wash vegetables: two points of violation. Next came the slicing machine, which Yan uses to cut the beef for his noodle soup, and that he cleans regularly. However, at the moment of the inspection, there were a few meat crumbles on the blade; the inspector saw them and gave Yan another five points of violation.
Yan said that after preparing a piece of beef, he put it inside the refrigerator. However, the meat did not cool down fast enough. At the time of the inspections, the meat had already been inside the walk-in fridge for two hours; but when the inspector checked, its temperature was above the 41 degrees prescribed by the Heath Code: that cost Yan seven more points of violation.
“It depends how lucky you are,” Yan said referring to the inspection. “If the inspector comes two minutes later, the cashier has put away the rag already, let’s take five points off: I already get an A.”
Yan said he has received a grade C for Super Taste during a past inspection. However, that has hurt his business only slightly. To most of his customers, who come from around the neighborhood, Yan said, the grading system does not mean too much.
“Chinese people mostly work in kitchens,” Yan said, “they know what’s going on,” adding to the skepticism of many operators in the hospitality industry, who think that the letter system tells little about food safety. Yan agreed the letter system could be useful to diners. “Just don’t make money out of it!” said Yan, referring to the $52 million restaurateurs paid in penalties in 2012.
“I know the city needs money,” Ward of Paul’s Da Burger Joint said. “If you told me now, once a year, you gotta write the city a $5000 check… keep the money. Just don’t bother me,” Ward said referring to the city. “It’s not the money. It’s the way you bother me for the money,” Ward added. “It’s like extortion.”
Ward said the city cannot admit to be looking for revenue and uses the grading system as a way to legally force restaurateurs to pay fines.
Restaurant operators claim that the letter system is unfair, because it does not take into consideration how complex as fast-paced an environment a restaurant could be, especially on Friday or Saturday nights. If an inspector comes into a restaurant before the service starts, or when there are only a few customers inside, there is a better chance things will be found in the right place.
But when a restaurant is at the peak of its business, it can happen that, for instance, some kitchen utensils are stored improperly and cutting board is cracked. That will be enough so jeopardize the chance of getting an A, and to get fined for several hundred dollars.
Skeptics of the grade system lament that the outcomes of the inspections are often too dependent on the inspectors’ interpretation of the Health Code.
Riccardo Rossetti and Patrizia Volanti are chefs of a well-known Italian restaurant in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, which they wished to keep anonymous to comply with their owner’s request. They said that, during their experience, they have seen inspectors interpreting regulations in divergent and often contradictory ways. Rossetti said the bulk of regulations put together by the Health Department lacks understanding of the way a restaurant works and the necessities it has.
The code responds to scientific observations made by doctors, who determined what are the parameters under which a food is safe to be cooked, served or stored.
A 14 percent drop of cases of salmonella, recorded by the Department of Health and Mental Hygiene if the City of New York between 2010 and 2013, has been sold to the public as one of the key accomplishments of the grading system, as well as one the main reasons it has been created. The public is easily persuaded that Heath Department regulations are solidly backed by science.
“It’s more bureaucracy than science, actually,” Rossetti said. “They [inspectors] read the labels and they check when you prepared that stuff, but I’ve never seen an inspector opening up a box and smell if it was fermenting.”
At times, inspections can be extreme; at least in they way violations are detected and quantified. Volanti said that to each fruit fly found inside the whole area of a restaurant correspond two points of violation. A cluster of seven of such tiny flies would cost the restaurant an A grade, plus fines.
Volanti explained that many fortuitous circumstances could cause a restaurant to receive a B or even C grade: a wet floor, a fruit fly, a sponge out of the sanitary solution, a bartender touching his eyes with bare hands. “We all know that this is happening in a restaurant,” Volanti said, referring to the people working in restaurants. The public is not aware of the reason behind a bad grade, she said.
Strict regulations did not impact only small business. Multi-million dollar operations got targeted as well.
Per Se, a famous Michelin-starred French restaurant located at 10 Columbus Circle, owned by Chef Thomas Keller, was inspected last February by the Health Department. The inspectors detected 42 points of violations, resulted in a C grade and several fines.
Per Se did not accept the grade and, like most of the businesses that can afford the process, fought the violations in the Health Tribunal, a division of the Office of Administrative Trials and Hearings of the City of New York.
The media department of Per Se, contacted on the phone several times, never returned any call and left requests for comments unanswered. However, Keller made available a press release on the restaurant’s website, in which he said he was able to overturn 25 points of violation. Some of the violations that were left in place concerned “a chef drinking water in the kitchen from an open container” a “leaky faucet/dusty fan guard” and “potatoes that were in the process of cooking in a pan of canola oil registered between 112 and 118 degrees, which is below the hot food recommended temperature of 140 degrees.” Keller explained that the temperature was intended to be kept lower than the standards to match a “classic French technique used for generations in kitchen around the world.” After the conclusion of the trial, Per Se was able to raise its grade to a B.
During the past four years, the letter grade system has gained the hostility of all kinds of food enterprises, from high-ranked uptown restaurants to unknown delis in remote areas of the city. Owners of popular restaurants feel targeted by the system because they have large revenues the city could prey on. Small business owners, on the other side, feel targeted because they are less defensible, they don’t have the money Per Se has to be able to afford fines and trials, and no one would even notice if their restaurants close down.
Some charge that the Health Department does not treat all businesses the same, that business owners who have been around for a long time might receive a preferential treatment, like, for instance, more lenient inspections. Some even fear that there could be money involved.
“I do not think they are corrupt,” said Dr. Mel Kramer referring to the Health Department inspectors, “I don’t think there’s money exchanging here. I think that they are not as standardized. I do not think a lot of them know they whys behind the regulations.”
Kramer holds a Ph.D. in Environmental Health and a Master’s degree in Public Health with concentrations in Environmental Health and Epidemiology. He is the president of EHA Consulting Group, Inc., a firm that offers private consultations to businesses who wish to prepare for a sanitary inspections. Sometimes, Kramer said, his firm provides legal representation at Health Tribunals.
Despite the widespread impression that a large number of the inspectors of the Department of Health might be not trained enough, and that they might sometimes act unprofessionally, the Health Department maintains that “Health inspectors in New York City are imminently qualified. They all hold bachelors’ degrees with significant coursework in science.”
Kramer said, however, that would be ideal if each inspector possessed a Registered Environmental Health Specialist qualification, obtained through a standardized exam, in addition to the requirement of a bachelor’s degree in sanitary sciences. The certification, released by the National Environmental Health Association, is already mandatory for health inspectors in New Jersey.
“What we are certain about,” said Kramer, “is that revenue generation, which the city does not like to talk about, is the primary motivating factor.”
After fierce critiques received by business owners and the New York State Restaurant Association, which fought against the implementation of the grading system since the New York City Board of Health voted it in March 2010, the de Blasio administration decided to come to grips with the system.
In March, City Council Speaker Melissa Mark-Viverito and the Health Department announced new restaurant inspection rules. The Health Department will provide restaurants with consultative inspections, free of penalty, which would help them remedy problems before receiving a graded inspection. The New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene will hold a public hearing on May 7 to discuss the costs of the voluntary consultations and others aspects of the new rule. Stay tuned.
By KACIAH BAILEY
The theme song “Moving On Up” from the Jefferson’s blares through the speakers and resonates throughout the dance studio in the Brooklyn College West Quad building. Its 9:00am on a Monday morning the students are in position and their teacher stands in front of the mirror lined studio, microphone in hand, coaching them through a sequence of twirling and stepping. The students are all laughs and awkward steps as they follow along with the professor who every few minutes stops the music grabs a partner and executes the move correctly as they try to catch on.
This is ballroom dance class, led by Sergei Nabatov, 59, ex-military officer and engineer, turned world-renowned ballroom dancer.
This may seem like an unlikely jump in profession to most, but for Nabatov, now ballroom dance professor at Brooklyn College, that was exactly the turn his career took back in the Ukraine many years ago.
He discovered his love for the art form when at 21 years old, joined a dance club while planning to work in the civil aviation engineering.
“It was the only way to meet some girls,” he said with a laugh. But more than girls he found a passion he would spend the rest of his life pursuing. Although he graduated with a master’s degree in Civil Aviation Engineering from the University of Kiev, he continued to dance and enter competitions, winning his first competition just three years after he first started dancing.
Although at heart he is a dancer he credits his engineer experience as well as his life as a military officer to his success as a ballroom dancer.
“I am blessed to be from a military family.” he says with pride. His father was a military officer, and following in their footsteps, his eighteen year old daughter, a freshman at the University of Pittsburgh, is a navy enlisted officer as well. He says the military gave him the discipline and the focus to persevere as a world-renowned dancer. “Ballroom dancing is a hard job,” he says “If you are talented and want to prove it, it will take the rest of your life, practicing at least 6 hours a day to make people like your performance.”
Nabatov acknowledges that ballroom dancing is quite a stretch from engineering, but, for him, the two work together, as his engineering background has contributed to greatly to his ballroom dancing career.
“Half of my brain is an engineer and half is a ballroom dancer,” he said, his slightly Russian accented voice always carrying a hint of laughter. “Many choreographers don’t know how to switch the loud speaker on or the amplifier. But I know. So it helps.”
Not only has his engineer experience helped with his dancing career but it has helped him as a professor as well. He helped design and develop the Apple I Book application for his ballroom course called Dancesport. On the I book app that is required for the class, students can read the related material, hear notes play videos and music, and the lessons for the entire course can be found in the I book.
For Nabatov the change in career move wasn’t a hard choice to make. He says the moment he joined dance club he was sucked in and that is the passion he tries to get his students to feel. His love of dance lead him to choreographing and naturally to teaching the art form which he says gives students the opportunity, like him, to meet different people and connect with others with the same passion.
“Many of my students have found not only dancing, but marriage and kids,” he tells during a sit down in one of his classes on a recent Monday morning. “They meet on the dance floor and get married in the wild,” he added with a laugh.
He created the first ever ballroom dance school in Ukraine, from where famous US Dancesport Champion, Maria Manusova graduated. Then in 2001 he was contacted by a colleague from Fred Astaire’s Dance studio and invited to work in the United States as a dancer and choreographer. He then joined the Brooklyn College teaching staff where he created the first ever ballroom dance course in the college.
Some of his students from Brooklyn college include well known dancers Dmitry Chaplin top ten finalist from So You Think You Can Dance and Maksim Chmerkovsiy professional dancer and finalist on Dancing With the Stars.
Watching Nabatov in action it is not hard to see how his very disparate career moves have culminated in the classroom. He stands in the front of the dance studio, dressed in all black, cotton pants, t-shirt and dance shoes, microphone in hand chanting instructions like ” one.. two.. three.. twirl” or “quick.. quick.. slow arms up two three” to which the students follow suit, reminiscent of a military line drill if one were to ignore all the giggling from the students. He controls the music and equipment while demonstrating dance moves simultaneously yet so effortlessly. And when the giggles and chatter among the students persist or some become distracted, a firm “Listen to me now” gets them all at immediate attention.
He is a balanced combination of discipline and fun, while he knows how to keep the students in line, his rapport with them is affable and comedic. He is hands on with them. He holds them by the shoulders to guide them along, he holds their legs to show them which way to turn, and he holds their hands as he explains the moves to them. And after dancing with them he hugs and thanks them. It is not hard to see his love of ballroom dancing reflected in the way he teaches his students the art of dancing.
From the front of the room he surveys each dance couple. He spots one student not keeping up with the steps and Nabatov playfully yells to the student’s partner “Can you kick him?” the class erupts in laughter as Nabatov runs to the student, fists in the air as if to engage him in a fist fight. Then he shows him to accurately perform the move. Here he is less militaristic, less mechanical and his obvious love of what deems to be an amazing art form prevails.
“He’s very patient and he really teaches you,” says Jean Vernon, a physical education major who enrolled in the class as a requirement for her major. “He makes it so simple, the way he breaks down the steps. If I can do it, you know he’s good,” she adds with a laugh.
Another student Toni Figueroa, a theater major, echoes the same sentiment. “It’s a pretty fun class. And he’s very funny and eccentric. He makes it fun.”
Yet in a melancholy tone he reveals this may possibly be his last semester as a Professor at Brooklyn College after 13 years. “The number 13 is an unlucky number in many countries and it looks like it is. . . this could be it,” Nabatov said. The Physical Education program removed ballroom dancing as a mandatory course and all courses that are not mandatory will be cancelled due to budget constraints. But he remains hopeful that the course will continue under the Liberal Arts department but as of now, that is yet to be decided.
Regardless of the fate of ballroom dancing at Brooklyn College, Nabatov will continue in his work as a professional dancer and adjudicator where he organizes competitions, nationally and internationally for both children and adults. “I’m proud of what I did in Brooklyn College from scratch to this level.” he said.
“Ballroom dancing gave me the chance to be an unbelievably international man in every aspect, ” he said, reflecting on his experience over the years.
Nabatov says dancing has changed his life and is still changing lives all over the world. As proof, he referenced the documentary Hot Mad Ballroom, that depicts the lives of New York pre-teens who turned from gangs and street violence after being introduced to ballroom dance.
And what more proof that it does change lives than his own life–from a career in aviation engineering to professional ballroom dancer and professor.
As if on cue the music comes back on drowning out all chatter in the studio. Nabatov signals to the front of the studio indicating that it its time to resume his dance training. “That’s it,” he says smiling as he waltzes hurriedly to the front of the studio to join his students.
When the music comes on duty, or destiny calls and Nabatov always answers.
By LOVASHNI KHALIKAPRASAD
Cricket, which was first played in New York City in 1844, has now become a growing sport here. As immigrants from the English-speaking Caribbean, Pakistan and India have settled in New York City, cricket games are popping up in parks on warm sunny days in Brooklyn and Queens, where people gather on weekends to play the game, while their families sit back and cheer on their favorite players. If you look closely in neighborhoods like South Ozone Park, Richmond Hill and Hillside in Queens, you will notice two dozen players dressed in uniforms playing the game. For those unfamiliar with the sport, it is eye-catching to see so many people competing in a sport that is not well-known in New York.
Cricket is a bat and ball game, like baseball, played between two teams. But that is where the similarity ends. Each team has 11 players. It is played on an oval field with a rectangular expanse of grass in the center about 66 feet long called “a pitch”. One team bats, while the other team bowls (pitches) and fields. The batting team has two players up at a time, one at each end of the pitch. Both players work in unison to score runs for their teams. A batsman scores a run by hitting the ball with the bat and running towards the opposite end of the pitch and touching the crease (one of several lines dividing up the pitch) with the bat.
The other team has all 11 players on the field. Ten of them field, that is, try to catch the ball before it touches the ground after it is hit by the batsman which strikes him out. Another important way to strike the batsman out is to toss the ball against the wicket, three sticks about 2½ feet tall which stand behind the batsman and which hold two rods (bails) in between them. If the wicket is hit, the bails are dislodged or the batsman knocks against it by mistake, he’s out. The wicket is the like the goalpost in soccer—that’s how important it is.
Every run made by the batting team counts in cricket. It is a chasing game. The goal is to make the most runs in an inning.
“There are more than a hundred cricket teams in New York,” said Sudesh Dhaniram, a professional cricketer who represented the U.S cricket team from 2009-2012. There are seven cricket leagues and each one is diverse, drawing on players from all over the world, particularly from countries that were former British colonies. Dhaniram plays the game both on Saturdays and Sundays. As a former West Indies (international cricketer) batsman, He led Richmond Hill Cricket Team, which plays on Sunday, to its first victory in 2013. On Saturdays he plays for Global Cricket Club, an Indian team based in New Jersey.
“It’s a major entertainment for the Caribbean and Asian people,” said Anil Beharry, the vice president of the Berbice Cricket Board and bank manager of New Building Society in Guyana. Beharry frequently comes to New York to play cricket during the summers.
“The game builds bridges beyond race, culture and creed,” Beharry continued. He said that from his experience, the game is expanding in Brooklyn, Queens, Nassau and Bronx.
“I think the game is becoming popular,” said Mohammad Nazu, captain of the Commonwealth league. “Every year there is a new league,” Nazu, 26 continued. He said that it is a major sport among different groups of people. “It’s slowly getting the attention it needs,” Nazu said.
A number of New York City high schools now have cricket teams, including John Adams, Long Island City, Martin Van Buren, and the High School for Architecture, Engineering and Construction, among others. Last year, the top schools vied for a spot for a chance to be named the ‘Best in the City’ at the third annual NYC Mayor’s Cup Cricket All-Star Games. The NYC Mayor’s Cup series features 11 sporting events. Athletes of all ages from all five boroughs compete year round to prove that they are the city’s best baseball, lacrosse, outdoor track and field, basketball, softball, soccer, wrestling, chess, table tennis, cross country–and cricket players.
New York City has long been an epicenter of sports history. In 1844, the city hosted its first international cricket match between Canada and the U.S. In May, it made its mark in the world’s sports history book by hosting the New York T20 Bash Cricket Tournament.
The tournament lasted from May 2-4. Sixteen teams along with international, national and local players participated in the event. The teams competed for the first prize of $15,000 and the Championship Trophy, sponsored by CricketZone. Competitions that are not as big are usually sponsored by local businesses. For, the Richmond Hill Cricket team, mostly Guyanese businessmen sponsor the players.
“Mostly everybody that plays in the team contributes money to buy gear,” said Nazu in a phone interview. “It’s 80% the individuals who play put money into the game,” he said. Dhaniram added that friends and families support them also. But for competitions that involve prizes over $5,000, the league takes a $2,500 membership fee from each team to buy the awards and uniforms and pay the ground fees.
New York City draws players from all over the world and almost anyone who enjoys the sport can be part of the game. Nazu, born in Bangladesh migrated in 2001 and started to play in 2007. He and his friends started their own team and ended up playing for the Commonwealth League.
After years of playing, he became the captain of his team. “A lot of leadership is involved,” Nazu said. He has to make sure everybody is on the ground on time, guides his players and places the batting and bowling line up. “I like the responsibility,” Nazu said. He was proud to speak of his accomplishments in the game. He was awarded the “man of the match” for one game, best bowler, fielder of the match for another, won trophies and even prize money. On the weekends he plays cricket in New Jersey and Queens and he just graduated from John Jay College with a degree in Criminal Justice.
On Sundays, cricketers play in Baisely Park in Queens and at Flushing Meadows, and sometimes at other parks. The games have been attracting more but not as many as some would like.
“I’ve been playing for a while and the game hasn’t gone anywhere,” said Dhaniram,47, who used to tour with the West Indies to the U.S. since 1995.
But, Nazu would disagree, saying the game is slowly getting there. In Lauderhill, Florida, there is a cricket stadium, called the Central Broward Regional Park and Stadium which hosts cricket games especially 20/20 games, a shorter and more exciting version of cricket. And then there are the burgeoning games here in New York City. So, maybe cricket is making headway in the U.S. after all, and particularly in Brooklyn and Queens.
“I play with different people from different countries, as opposed to Bangladesh where I play with people only from my area,” Nazu said. “It’s a friendly environment,” he added.
By TIFFANY THOMAS
Pushing a shopping cart filled with loads of laundry below the No. 3 elevated train tracks in Brooklyn’s Brownsville section, Anastacia Stanley recalled the first time she saw Bethesda Healing Center, a church designed in the shape of an ark with its name written in bold green letters. Outside the double doors, a line of people stood, waiting to obtain a hot meal and bags of groceries from the church’s monthly food pantry.
“Bethesda has given back to the community in various ways and I’m happy to be a recipient of the greatness that they offer my community,” said Stanley, an 18-year-old student at New York City College of Technology who is pursuing a fashion marketing degree and a resident of Brownsville, one of the city‘s poorest neighborhoods.
Bethesda Healing Center is one of the many churches in Brownsville, a mostly African- and Caribbean-American community which has 58 churches in 14 denominations, according to Faith-Street, a New York-based organization that helps link people up with a house of worship. A visit to the three churches shows how deeply connected they are to their community, serving as a rock of refuge for many local residents.
In various ways, the three churches on Clarkson Avenue between Remsen Avenue and Rockaway Parkway and others in the neighborhood have played a significant role in efforts to stabilize a troubled community. The churches serve as an incubator for charities, recreation, political organizing, schools and businesses. They have done outreach in hospitals and prisons and donate clothes and food for the indigent.
“People see churches as a refuge both spiritually and physically. They serve as homeless shelters, host soup kitchens and they even take in undocumented immigrants, and politicians use them as platforms to get votes,” said Ken Estey, assistant professor of political science at Brooklyn College and an expert on religion in Brooklyn.
Gail Gilkes, the dean of B.I.B.L.E. College, which is located in Brownsville, said church leaders go to great lengths to assist the marginalized. “Pastors are known to accompany their parishioners on hospital visits, to court cases, graduations and give support during tragedies,” she said. “They provide family services, promote health and well-being and encourage academic excellence.”
With a population of 55,043, Brownsville, in central Brooklyn, is faced with many social problems associated with poverty, including drug addiction and high levels of crime. The neighborhood still has a disturbing number of shootings despite a drop in the crime rate. Frequently, the shootings take place in or near housing projects. Brownsville has the largest concentration of public housing in the nation, comprising one square mile of public housing.
Residents look to their churches for guidance. “It’s nothing but life-changing truths that is taught here by our bishop Dr. Rose,” said Nicola Paige, 26, a member of Bethesda since childhood. “It’s a place of healing and outpouring of love.” During Christmas and Thanksgiving, members of the community are served with a hot meal and are given free clothes and toys, all donated from the church members and local businesses.
Sandwiched between a laundry and an abandoned, gated church on Clarkson Avenue is All Saints Pentecostal Church. In the process of beginning morning worship on a recent Sunday, congregants intermittently entered the pews.
With fewer than 20 people present, the female pastor, clothed in a white dress accessorized with beading, shouted praise as her short body jolted with each statement she made.
All Saints has been serving the community for over 25 years and has a membership of 35. “I think Brooklyn is God-fearing. We fear God and keep his commandments,” Yvonne Salmon, the director of missions affairs, said with a grin on her face as the background music overpowered her soft-spoken voice.
“What we usually do is go out and invite the people of the community to come,” Salmon said. It is an effort her closely knit church family does to help and give back to the community of Brownsville.
“We sometimes get food from outsiders and we package and give them out, we visit the elderly and find out what we can do for them,” Salmon said.
A couple of doors down from All Saints Pentecostal is Clarkson Avenue Church of God, with a mostly Haitian congregation. Its name is written in bold red letters that are above the entrance to the narrow sanctuary, which was secured by white gates. The loud music and the shouts of the occupants bleed through the doors of the red brick building.
“Our mission is to help the church members and the community to transition, mostly immigrants from Haiti,” said Emma Lapointe, the ministries coordinator. The Clarkson Avenue church has seen a growth spurt in its attendance and membership since the 2010 earthquake in Haiti. As a result of that tragedy, a lot of Haitians migrated to the United States.
Clarkson Avenue Church of God was established in 1977 and has a membership of 150 to 200. With a vigorous community outreach, Lapointe and members of the church provide immigration services; identifications, especially for those who migrated to America after the earthquake in Haiti; job assistance; hospital services and translators.
“We have been to the shelters and jails to reach out to the people because the mission of the church is to show God’s love to those that do not normally hear it,” Lapointe said. The ministries coordinator draws to the conclusion that “churches are needed” and that is why there are so many. “People need a place to belong to, it’s a family, we have to be open for them, the church is basically for the community,” Lapointe said as her eyes widened and her curly afro moved in harmony with her gestures.
She recalled periods when the church gave refuge to Haitians who came to America with no place to lodge. “The people gravitate to where suits them, whether it’s immigration, employment or housing,” Lapointe said.
For these small churches, there is a balance. They are devoted to the spiritual enrichment of their membership, sharing their resources with the community through social and moral enlistment.
“Churches have taken the holistic approach to ministry by offering a plethora of services to the community,” Gilkes said. “It is now the norm to find churches offering GED classes, health screening, legal consultations and immigration services.”
Photo: All Saints Pentecostal Church is one of three small churches on one block in Brownsville. (Tiffany Thomas)
Empty bookshelves line the walls at Shakespeare & Co.’s store on Hillel Place and Campus Road. The long-time bookseller found it’s impossible to compete with the digital world. Online retailers like Amazon cut into profits, and E-readers like the Kindle Fire stole eyeballs. Store managers tell Christian Colon, they could not hang on any longer.
The new softball broadcast team at Brooklyn College, organized by Carlos Montanez, hit snags when it went on the air this spring. But volunteers struggled to keep the broadcast team in the game. Marcus Lloyd and Faraz Toor found out why.
Change comes to Franklin Avenue in Brooklyn. It’s not all good. Some think the Crown Heights neighborhood is getting too pricey for long-time African American residents and even newcomers. Gentrification brought real estate speculators, high rents and the disappearance of traditional businesses. Even people at the trendy Franklin Park bar worry. Solmaz Sharif reports.
Egg creams were once a popular drink in New York’s Jewish immigrant communities in candy store soda fountains. But what’s an egg cream? Steve Loffredo investigates what goes into making an egg cream. He says its U-bet syrup, seltzer and milk. He examines why the egg cream is a vanishing drink.
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By FRITZMYRE CHERUBIN
The tall African intellectual walked around the Brooklyn radio studio with his chest upright and his head held high as if he’d just won the “Most Confident of the Year” award.
Dressed in his bright white shirt, neatly pressed, finished with a black bow tie, Cheikh Baila, 52, has a face full of scars that remind him of his traumatic past.
Baila, who was tortured for speaking out against a tyrannical government in Mauritania, is now the talk host and president of the Brooklyn-based Pulaar Speaking Association’s Radio PSA, located at 1169 Fulton St. PSA is a radio show that promotes African cultures in general and the Fulani culture in particular, and develops educational projects to benefit its members. Radio PSA provides programming that entertains and educates the African community, while at the same time seeking to become a part of the larger American culture.
As different hosts are open to discussing any political subject occurring in Africa, Baila chooses to talk about an issue that hits close to home: the oppression faced by the citizens of Mauritania,the country in which Baila was born.
Every night as Baila prepares the rundown for the show, he reminisces about the time he was held in captivity, and it explains why he is a part of the organization in the first place.
During the harsh rule of President Maaouya Ould Sid’Ahmed Taya of Mauritania, a country in West Africa, many were afraid to question his political stances.
In 1996, Baila decided to become a political activist opposed to the segregation, discrimination, and racism under the Taya rule. Slavery has persisted in Mauritania, which has a mixed Arab and black population, and human rights activists say many blacks are enslaved.
Baila could not continue to witness what was going on before his very eyes, so he decided to develop concerts in which these different ethnic groups would unite. These ethnic groups consisted of the Fulani people, Wolof, Soninke, Bambara, Hratine, and the white Arabs. They would come with songs and Baila would be the emcee, presenting the different groups on stage. It was not long before the Mauritanian government came looking for Baila.
He says that while the African peoples were finally coming together under one roof, undercover cops disguised as audience members would report the concert activities back to Taya. Baila said he was not aware of this until two detectives came knocking at his door late at night, as his pregnant wife, Niouma Kante Baila, stood in the background with a face full of panic. He and his wife were helpless as the two men blindfolded Baila and threw him into the backseat of a van.
For three whole days, a group of men kept Baila him in a dark room with little food and tortured him until he gave answers, he said. One common technique they used was the “jaguar” torture method; he was tied upside down from the ceiling until the blood rushed to his head, leaving him close to unconscious. They then beat him to the ground, which eventually left long-lasting scars on his face.
Baila said he would not succumb to the pressure. He said he simply told them the truth, which was that he was not a member of any political party and was just trying to convey a message through musical outlets.
As if to say it was obvious, Baila raised his brows and smirked. The message, he said, was to “invite people to be one people and to love each other.”
Baila was let off the hook that night. But many Mauritanians who were opposed to the government did not live to tell their story.
After that night, Baila says, “My mission wasn’t complete.” He continued to organize concerts, but as a disguised audience member. His success was short-lived as the government was notified once again.
It was then that Baila had to flee Africa for good, with the help of a former classmate.
After making a successful escape, he landed in Brooklyn, and would not see his family for the next five years.
“Of course I missed my family, especially my wife, but I knew this was something I had to do,” Baila says.
Although Baila was devastated at being far from his family, he felt that it was worth the sacrifice because it was his calling, he said, adding that if he had just walked away, he wouldn’t have been able to live with that decision.
When asked if he has any regrets, Baila replied, “It’s the best choice I ever made. Somebody had to do it.”
Although Baila now voices his opinions about the government on the Pulaar Speaking Association radio show, 8,000 miles away from Africa, his wife says, “I still fear for his life.”
Baila says that he understands his wife’s concerns, but feels he is considerably safer here in America.
Although Taya was overthrown in 2005, the modern day government does little to engage in the matter of slavery, says Baila.
For this reason, Baila continues to address the problem on the Pulaar Speaking Association.
“People need to stand together to fight against the practice of slavery,” he said. “And by people, I mean everyone!”
Photo: Cheikh Baila.
