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Doc: 00104468 DB: research–d–2006–4 Date: Sun Oct 22 09:18:13 2006

Alert Categories: bus his tra

Profiler Categories: Business Hispanic Travel

*** Version history. (* this story, F final, S semifinal) ***

DD8KTMV581 10-22-2006 09:18:13*F BC-FL--Accents Please:Accent or no accent:

Copyright 2006 By The Associated Press. All Rights Reserved.

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Accent or no accent: newspapers struggle with little black marks

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%photo(AP Photos TP201-202%)

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By LAURA WIDES-MUNOZ

Hispanic Affairs Writer

ST. PETERSBURG, Fla. (AP) – When journalist Aly Colon began his career, he always made the same request to his editors.

Could he please have an accent?

Colon, a Puerto Rican native, writes his name with an accent over the second "o" to distinguish it from the less than elegant body part. When his editors said they couldn't or wouldn't add the slash to his byline, Colon began adding it by hand before the paper went to press.

"My father told me that I had a family name, and that that was a name I was to grow up and honor," said Colon, "and one of the important elements of honoring that name was spelling it right."

Most people with an accent in their name don't have the option of pestering the local copy editor, nor do they have Colon's passion on the issue. But with the number of Hispanics in the U.S. rising, up more than 18 percent since 2000 according to the U.S. Census, and overall newspaper readership on the decline, many media companies are looking at ways to respond to the shift in demographics – and are rethinking just how tough it is to add the squiggly lines.

Newspapers have long maintained that technological problems and editorial confusion make it too difficult to add accents, officially known as diacritical marks. For Colon, now a faculty member at The Poynter Institute of journalism in St. Petersburg, it's a question of accuracy, one of the basic tenets of journalism.

The absence of accents can change the pronunciation and the meaning of a word.

The name Pena, without the tilde over the "n," means shame. The Spanish word for year without that squiggle becomes anus.

Iris Llorente, 21, of Doral whose mother emigrated to the U.S. from Cuba, said she doesn't expect to see accents in the English press.

"I don't take it too seriously. I usually think it's funny when I see it wrong," she said. But Llorente echoed other Hispanic newspaper readers when she added that seeing the accent marks "would be nice. You always want them to get it right."

Yolanda Gomez, 30, a financial sales analyst in Los Angeles, also questioned why the use of accents on some French words such as resume are accepted but not on Spanish words.

"The French do it, why don't we?" she questioned.

Advertisers have been quicker to make the change.

Cartier's newest "La Dona" line of watches, created in honor of Mexican actress Maria Felix, features the tilde over the "n," distinguishing the product from the Spanish word for doughnut.

"When you're persuading people, you want to eliminate any barriers to the communication," said Carl Kravetz, chairman of the Association of Hispanic Advertising Agencies. "If you're borrowing the word from another language anyway, you might as well get it right."

In recent years, The New York Times, Los Angeles Times, The Miami Herald and other large newspapers have begun to add them, as have smaller papers, but they are usually applied inconsistently and are far more likely to appear in the style section than the news pages.

"If you did choose to use accent marks, your staff would have to be knowledgeable enough about when to use them," said St. Petersburg Times executive news editor John Schlander, explaining why his paper does not use them, even though it has the technology to do so.

"Some people are going to be bilingual, but others aren't. Then there are the wire services and their policies," he said.

Many papers blame The Associated Press for going accentless. The wire service's 2006 stylebook says accents shouldn't be used "because they cause garble in many newspaper computers."

Yet the issue is far from closed at the AP, where senior editors are looking at ways to insert accents in the names of individuals who prefer them. The wire service has long transmitted accents on its non-English wires.

"It's something we look at all the time," AP Stylebook editor Norman Goldstein said. "The biggest problem is where do you stop once you start? Doing it in Spanish would be more useful, but you can't just have diacritical marks for one language."

The technology issue is changing as more newspapers upgrade to computer software that can read the marks. Editorial software providers CCI Europe, Atex Limited and Mediaspan Group Inc, which serve hundreds of U.S. newspapers, all say their systems can handle accents transmitted by the wire.

Even Colon said he sees the accent over his "o" more frequently these days.

The Los Angeles Times instituted an official policy a few years back to add the tilde.

"It's a fractional step along the lines of using accent marks," said Clark P. Stevens, chief of the paper's copy desks.

Stevens said the issue is difficult especially for the international desk, which has the most words to check and still gets much of its copy through e-mail and other systems that may change the accent. Also, many Hispanics in Los Angeles have lived several generations in the U.S. and no longer even use an accent, he said.

But Stevens says he believes the trend is toward more accents.

"It goes back to Journalism 101 and accuracy, and identification of a person is a primary element of information in a news story," he said. "We've been edging down the road to using accents for a long, long time. I think we'll go more that way."

––

Associated Press Solvej Schou in Los Angeles contributed to this report.

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Doc: 00100326 DB: research–d–2006–3 Date: Sat Jul 22 09:53:37 2006

Alert Categories: ban bus his ins law med mun rea tra

Profiler Categories: Banking Business Financial Hispanic Law

Medical Municipal RealEstate Travel

*** Version history. (* this story, F final, S semifinal) ***

DD8J12RO80 07-22-2006 09:53:37*F BC-FL--Latin Banking:Miami's Brickell Aven

DD8J12S9G0 07-22-2006 09:54:46 F BC-FL--Latin Banking:Miami's Brickell Aven

Copyright 2006 By The Associated Press. All Rights Reserved.

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Miami's Brickell Avenue fears loss of Latin American banking

Eds: Also moved in advance. Moving on general news and financial services.

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By LAURA WIDES-MUNOZ

Hispanic Affairs Writer

MIAMI (AP) – The sparkling glass towers rising above the Atlantic along Brickell Avenue have long been the place where Latin America's wealthy parked their money during political crises and invested it when times were good.

These days, economies across Latin America are rebounding, but many in Miami's financial hub aren't seeing the expected boom.

International banking leaders say that post-Sept. 11 security regulations have scared off some clients with clean money who, despite their proximity and attraction to the U.S., are increasingly making deposits in Panama or even Luxembourg. And they say the cost of following the regulations is too great for many smaller banks.

Guillermo Rossel, a senior vice president with International Bank of Miami, said that before 2001, the bank's international clients came from across Latin America. Now they come only from Central America and the Caribbean.

"We are losing international business, both private wealth management and correspondent – bank to bank business," said Rossel, whose institution is one of a number of banks with charters in Florida that hold less than $1 billion in assets.

"The regulations have to do with not only knowing our customers but knowing our customers' customers," he said of the bank-to-bank side. "It's become too risky and too costly for us."

The total amount of money flowing to and from Latin America into banks and related agencies in the U.S. is difficult to decipher as state and federal regulators don't break out those numbers, but a few statistics suggest the industry is indeed changing:

–Between 2000 and 2005, jobs in international banking in Florida dropped from nearly 5,000 to about 3,000. During the same time, the industry saw a $2.1 billion loss in business revenue, according to a recent study by Florida International Bankers Association.

–Meanwhile, the amount of money held by foreign banks with agencies licensed by the state held steady at about $19.5 billion, reversing a growth trend, according to the Florida Office of Financial Regulation.

–The number of Edge Act banks – banks allowed only to deal with foreign commerce – dropped from 10 in 2000 to seven in 2005.

Some analysts say the issue is more complicated. The number of banks with foreign offices was already on the decline from its height in the mid-1990s. They ascribe the loss to improved technology that allows companies to provide more services from a central hub such as New York. And they say banking is hardly the only industry where smaller businesses are struggling against global consolidation.

Yet Seno Bril, CEO of BNP Paribas in Miami, maintains the post-Sept. 11 Patriot Act regulations have played a significant role, especially when it comes to Latin America's wealthy.

Banks must verify the identification of potential clients depositing $1 million or more, as well as determine the source of funds and purpose of the account. Special diligence must be conducted to identify and monitor accounts opened by foreign government officials, their family members, associates and corporations formed to benefit them.

"These are the people who like to do their shopping in Miami and in the United States. They send their kids to school in the U.S. They come for medical checkups in the U.S," said Bril, a former head of the Florida International Bankers Association.

Yet they aren't banking as frequently here because of concerns about confidentiality and the "perception that their money is not welcome," he said.

Several banks from Spain have opened offices in Florida in recent years, though they tend to focus on existing Latin American customers and the U.S. Hispanic market.

Florida International University Professor Jerry Harr acknowledged that the Sept. 11 regulations have had a chilling effect, but he said newfound political and economic stability are also affecting the amount of capital flowing in from Latin America. Countries such as Mexico and Chile already have the coveted investment-grade status for government bonds, other countries such as Brazil aren't far behind.

With more liquidity at home and more confidence in banking regulations there, companies needn't rely on banks in the United States for short-term transactions, he said.

Clients are also looking for more sophisticated ways to hold their money, such as mutual funds. And with the recent real estate boom, many have put their money into land.

"I have no patience for depositors who complain the Patriot Act is the number one reason for the decline. It's one of the reasons," Harr said.

Still, Bril said people want a friendly face, and they still need dollars, so if Latin Americans are going to bank in the U.S., Florida should be the logical spot.

Bril said he supports the tighter restrictions, but he wants to see the U.S. push to have them implemented worldwide.

"You want to look at the effect. If the only result of the controls is that the money goes somewhere else, then we don't think that's the intention of the laws," he said.

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Doc: 00418988 DB: research–d–2006–4 Date: Sat Dec 23 09:24:46 2006

Alert Categories: bus his hit ins tra

Profiler Categories: Business Financial HiTech Hispanic Travel

*** Version history. (* this story, F final, S semifinal) ***

DD8M6JOBG0 12-23-2006 09:24:46*F BC-FL--Cuban Internet Gifts:Cuban exiles s

Copyright 2006 By The Associated Press. All Rights Reserved.

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Cuban exiles send gifts home through Canadian Web site

Eds: Also moved in advance.

By LAURA WIDES-MUNOZ

AP Hispanic Affairs Writer

MIAMI (AP) – A small but growing number of Cubans in South Florida are getting around the U.S. embargo that limits what can be sent to the communist island by sending their Christmas gifts through foreign Internet sites.

At least one Canadian Web site, www.Cubamaxstore.com, allows people to ship items such as beef, jams and even deodorant to relatives in Cuba. While the gifts aren't the I-Pods and Sony PlayStations that Americans crave, they are much appreciated by Cubans who earn an average of $10 to $15 a month and often struggle to put enough food on the table.

The trend exemplifies the creative ways Cuban families are seeking to stay connected, despite the restrictions on travel and exports imposed by the governments on both sides of the Florida Straits, said Cuban-American activist Ramon Saul Sanchez.

"Fortunately, people try to keep in touch with their families. Unfortunately, they have to go through all these measures," he said.

Antonio Conte, who left Cuba in the early 1990s and edits an online magazine of articles written by Cuban dissidents, recently ordered meat and other items to his adult daughter and son who live in Cuba. He said it was easier than going through one of the few authorized parcel services and safer than returning to the island.

"My uncle told me about it. It's better to send food there instead of money. It's not so expensive, and you can help a bit." Conte said. "In Cuba you have your ration card, and you get chicken only once in a while. Only the children and the sick get meat."

A gift basket of assorted canned meats and other snacks costs about $60. The Web site also offers electronics and appliances, although no one interviewed for this article said they purchased such items.

While the U.S. embargo against the island – enacted in 1963 at the height of the Cold War – has long limited what can be sent there, restrictions enacted in 2004 made sending gifts there even more difficult.

Now most Cubans in the U.S. can only visit the island once every three years and can only send quarterly remittances of up to $300 per household to immediate family members.

Add to that the Cuban government now takes 20 cents of every U.S. dollar sent there. The amount is smaller for other currencies, such as the euro or the Canadian dollar, which makes the Canadian online store more attractive.

Neither Cubamaxstore.com nor the U.S. Commerce Department, which enforces the embargo, returned numerous calls for comment.

Aleida Vives, 68, said she'd never used the Internet before she sent meat to her sister this year.

"It's a little cheaper," she said, adding that meat and other specialty items are often more expensive in Cuba and the quality is poor.

Others refused to talk about their purchases because they might be accused of supporting the island's communist government because they feared their families might get into trouble for accepting the gifts or sending them.

"I know people who do it, but I don't know too much about it," said Neuves Fernandez, who works at a Miami-area check cashing office that sends money orders to Cuba, echoing the response of many.

There's another concern. The Canadian Web site appears to operate in a legal gray area, said Florida International University Economics Professor and Cuba expert Jorge Salazar-Carillo.

U.S. law forbids exporting products to Cuba through third countries such as Canada or Mexico, but it does make an exception for families sending food, vitamins and personal hygiene items of $200 or less to immediate family members, according to the U.S. Department of the Treasury's Office of Foreign Assets Control.

Cubamaxstore.com and its customers "are trying to operate under the radar of the U.S. regulations," Salazar-Carillo said.

Conte said sending the food home is not about politics, it's simply about a father trying to help out his children.

"Food is the most difficult," he said. "My daughter never asks for anything, but they can eat and have a few days without that Cuban struggle of having to invent how they are going to get enough food on the table."

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On the Net:

CubaMax Internet store: http://www.cubamaxstore.com

U.S. Department of Treasury Office of Foreign Assets Control: http://www.treas.gov/offices/enforcement/ofac/

With BC-SOU--Farmworkers-Samaritans
AP Photos
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Doc: 00281899 DB: research–d–2007–2 Date: Sat Jun 2 00:07:11 2007

Profiler Categories: Agriculture Business Hispanic Labor Law

Legal Municipal Philanthropy Travel

*** Version history. (* this story, F final, S semifinal) ***

LD8PGEPRO0 06-02-2007 00:07:11*F BC-SOU--Farmworker Fraud, Adv02-03:Florida

LD8PGHC4O0 06-02-2007 03:02:43 F BC-SOU--Farmworker Fraud:Florida guest far

Copyright 2007 By The Associated Press. All Rights Reserved.

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adv02-03

For use the weekend of June 2-3 and thereafter.

Florida guest farmworkers say contractors steal from their salary

With BC-SOU--Farmworkers-Samaritans

AP Photos

By LAURA WIDES-MUNOZ

Hispanic Affairs Writer

ARCADIA, Fla. – Kenny Jesus Zavala heard too many horror stories to enter the U.S. illegally. But when a recruiter came to his central Mexico hometown and offered him a legal path as a temporary worker, it sounded too good to pass up.

The recruiter promised that with an H-2A agriculture work visa, Zavala would earn $8.56 an hour picking oranges with no fear of sudden deportation. Zavala, 21, earned that much, but as soon a he cashed his check, the contractor would steal a third of his pay.

"The contractor told us that if we spoke up, no one would want to hire us again," said Zavala of Moroleon, in the Mexican state of Guanajuato. "It's worse than for the illegals because you're not free to go. You have to stay with the contractor that brought you."

The agriculture guest worker program was designed as a way to provide a stable, legal work force for agriculture with safe working conditions for the immigrants, without adversely affecting local wages. More than 37,000 such visas were issued nationwide last year, primarily to Mexicans.

But farmworker advocates say the act has not met its goals – workers are still abused and often left dependent on middlemen who steal their money. And they say it shields corporate growers from lawsuits and sanctions over lost wages, leaving the workers with nowhere to turn. An Associated Press review of temporary farmworker requests in Florida found nearly two-thirds were filed by contractors.

Advocates want Congress to address those problems as it contemplates reauthorizing thousands more temporary farmworkers under the proposed immigration bill.

Zavala was one of nearly a dozen migrant workers in central Florida who told The AP about being forced to pay contractors kickbacks. Most declined to give their names for fear of retribution. Many are afraid to file complaints because the contractors decide who gets to come back the following year. The contractors also provide worker housing, serve as translators and often offer the only ride to the grocery store or to the doctor.

Unscrupulous contractors once doctored the hours of the employees to steal from them. But as more large growers switch to electronic timekeeping, they are finding new means to squeeze money from the workers, said Mary Bauer, who recently co-wrote a study on the U.S. guest worker program for the Southern Poverty Law Center.

"This seems like a new variation on an old theme," Bauer said. "Growers create this system where they claim the workers are not their employees to get cover. They benefit from it, and the contractors benefit, but the workers don't."

Her group wants the U.S. to require growers – not the contractors – to file guest worker requests with the federal Labor Department and step up enforcement of existing guest worker protection laws.

Walter Kates, who heads labor relations for the growers' Florida Fruit and Vegetable Association, said growers rely on the contractors because the current visa system is so convoluted – employers must get approval from four different federal and state agencies. That makes it impossible to guarantee they will get their workers on time without contractors.

"If there are problems out there, the majority of the industry condemns them as much as anyone else does. We don't condone cheating workers, and we don't want to be labeled with that black brush," Kates said.

Because the workers are loath to complain and lose their jobs, most keep quiet or return to their native country. A growing number are also opting to go the illegal route where they are not dependent on one contractor.

Mexico City native Genaro Flores, 26, decided to go home in March after two weeks of losing money to the man who hired him. He has since returned to the U.S. illegally, working in Atlanta as a day laborer.

"It's a lot better here," he said. "I'm making money and I don't have to give it to the contractor."

The contractor system, in which independent harvest companies supply workers to large corporate growers, has exploded in the last 20 years. Many of these operations can fold up quickly if sued and lack the deep pockets of larger agriculture conglomerates.

A review of petitions requesting 4,700 guest worker permits in Florida since last September, showed about 75 percent were filed by contractors rather than growers, especially in the citrus industry. Tomato growers, who need more help year round, are far less likely to rely on a middleman.

Part of the problem is that the contractor is caught between the grower and the worker.

The current H-2A agriculture visa allows workers to come to the U.S. for three- to six-month periods if local help cannot be found. The temporary workers must receive above average pay – $8.56 an hour in Florida.

Yet citrus pickers, the largest percentage of Florida's guest workers, are usually paid by the number of oranges they pick and not by the hour. They have to pick about one orange every two seconds to reach $8.56 an hour.

Many do not, especially those attracted by the promise of a legal job who may not have a background in farm work. And growers don't necessarily subsidize the makeup pay the contractors must shell out, said Greg Schell, an attorney for Florida Rural Legal Services.

Complaints can backfire. Consolidated Citrus LP, which employs Zavala's boss, Benjamin Ramirez Harvesting, threatened to fire at least one contractor in the wake of worker complaints about pay. That would have left all the workers out of a job.

In response to the workers' concerns, Consolidated handed out written messages to workers with their checks reminding them they "were under no obligation" to give money to Ramirez. He did not return repeated calls from the AP.

Mike Bartos, Consolidated human resources head, said he could not discuss ongoing cases but said the company had received complaints from Rural Legal Services, which prompted the messages. He said the company offers training for contractors and brings in federal and state agencies to talk with them about labor issues.

"If something like this is going on, (Consolidated) would not tolerate it," he said.

Earlier this year, Schell signed roughly 20 people to a claim against the kickbacks. By May, all but four had returned early to Mexico, including Zavala, or no longer wanted to press their case fearing retaliation.

Zavala said Ramirez kept the temporary Social Security cards of those who left, meaning they could be used again for other workers.

For now, Zavala is biding his time, hoping his early return won't affect his ability to get a visa next year. He wants to return to the U.S. legally to work for a friend gardening in Chicago.

If that doesn't work out, he might come back illegally across the desert.

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Doc: 00214329 DB: research–d–2007–1 Date: Tue Feb 13 13:09:25 2007

*** Version history. (* this story, F final, S semifinal) ***

dD8N8VTL80 02-13-2007 13:09:25*F BC-FL--Cool and Kanjobal, Adv17-18:Finding

Copyright 2007 By The Associated Press. All Rights Reserved.

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Adv17-18

For release Weekend Editions, Feb. 17-18, and thereafter

Finding a place for Mayan kids in their new world

Eds: Multimedia: An audio slideshow on Mayan-American teens in Florida will be posted Feb. 13 in the –national/mayan–american folder. It is embargoed for use until 12:01 p.m. EST Feb. 16.

%photo(AP Photos of Feb. 12: NY300-307.%)

By LAURA WIDES-MUNOZ

Associated Press Writer

LAKE WORTH, Fla. (AP) – It's early Saturday and the cafes, surf shops and antique stores of this beach town, like most of its residents, have yet to show signs of life.

But inside the cramped, borrowed offices of the Guatemalan-Maya Center, nearly a dozen kids buzz about. They swap video games, peruse National Geographics, tease one another – mostly in English, occasionally in the Mayan language of their parents.

Juan Mendez and Polly Gaspar settle them down, and the kids quickly offer the latest news:

Eleven-year-old Omar Andres' math scores are soaring. Maria Andres, a shy 15-year-old held back in elementary school, has improved so much she will skip into eighth grade mid year. Her sister Monica and Leticia Vargas are earning nearly straight A's in seventh grade.

Mendez and Gaspar beam. "Congratulations," Gaspar says. "A miracle."

And so it is.

These kids aren't supposed to make it. The children of Guatemalan Indian refugees who fled their country's brutal civil war, they come to school with little if any academic background. Their teachers often take them for Hispanic – assuming their native tongue is Spanish, though at home many speak one of Guatemala's 23 indigenous languages.

Anecdotal evidence suggests they fare even worse in school than Hispanics overall – and the number of Hispanic teens attending high school locally drops by half between ninth and 12th grades.

Meanwhile, their parents work two and sometimes three jobs in the towns surrounding the swank resort city of Palm Beach, leaving them to navigate American culture on their own.

Until Gaspar, Mendez and their Saturday program came along.

–––

Mendez himself was among the first Mayans to arrive in South Florida, part of a group that fled Guatemala in the 1980s as the Central American government systematically destroyed the highland indigenous villages in its attempt to root out the guerrillas.

Like others, he settled in Florida because of the agricultural jobs, cheap cost of living and warm climate.

Today, some 58,000 Guatemalans live in Florida, many of them Mayan and most of them in Palm Beach County – only California has more. But when Mendez arrived, there were few families. He boarded with older men, many who drank and offered little help to the struggling 16-year-old.

He grew up fast, and as an adult, he hated watching young Mayan-Americans drift toward gangs, drop out of school or simply fall behind.

"Many Mayan parents, they grew up without a childhood, so they don't know how to raise children," says Mendez, 39. "I wanted to help, but more than that, I wanted to preserve the culture."

So three years ago, Mendez and Gaspar, husband and wife, started a mentoring program to keep Mayan youths in school. They mixed together field trips, lectures, tutoring and photography classes. What they lacked in professional training, they made up for by simply showing up.

The task wasn't easy. Many parents in the closed Mayan community were hesitant to farm out their children for the day, and few kids wanted to wake up at 7 a.m. on a Saturday.

Mendez, an electrician, and his wife, then a translator in the schools, kept pushing. They recruited kids recommended by the county child services, made home visits to parents and picked up the children each week in the family van.

Omar Andres was one such child, born in the Mexican refugee camps where his parents lived after they fled their mountain village of Huehuetenango.

He was moved from the English-as-a-second-language classes to special education classes before teachers figured out he didn't speak Spanish or English well only because he didn't speak much of either at home. In fact, Omar was one of their most gifted students.

These days, Omar – a cherubic-faced boy, thoughtful and reserved at moments, playful with an impish grin at others – inhales books. After school, he loses himself in ghost stories on the wooden deck outside his family's cramped, second-floor apartment, oblivious to the small-time crack dealers riding bicycles below.

Since he joined the Saturday program, his grades, like those of the others, have shot up. He wants to be a teacher, already tutors other Mayan students and last year was tapped to enter a $1,000 scholarship contest.

But even the Saturday program can't erase all the obstacles.

Last spring, it took Omar's teacher less than a minute to tell his mother, Angelina Andres, about the scholarship.

It took the translator another 10 minutes to explain in the Mayan Kanjobal language to Angelina Andres – who had never finished elementary school – exactly what a scholarship was, why it was needed and what it could do for her son. Even then, Angelina, sitting erect in the embroidered wrapped skirt of her homeland, allowed only a hint of a smile.

It's not that she didn't support her sons' academic achievements. She was the one who made her sons explain their lessons to her each night and who scoured yard sales for children's books on her days off from work in the fields.

"The main thing is to keep them occupied," she said through a translator, "that they don't stay outside and play, that they finish their homework."

Still, there were more basic needs. The family planned to pull the children out from school early so they could make their annual journey to New England, were she and her husband would pick tobacco. It was the best gig the couple had found since they arrived in the United States more than a decade ago and the money was much needed.

If the contest wouldn't affect the work, then it was OK.

Andres could tell the teachers didn't understand, even when she explained she would enroll her children in summer school. So she remained quiet and nodded stiffly when they begged her to reconsider.

Throughout, Omar sat tucked into a chair nearby, his head buried in a book, "Scary Stories."

–––

Mendez chose the middle-school years because he saw it as a last-stop opportunity for intervention before high school. He believed the kids needed more than tutoring. They also needed to find pride in their heritage.

As the Mayans settled in Florida, they sought to rebuild the communities that had helped them preserve their culture for hundreds of years back home.

The adults associated little with other Hispanics and even less with the Anglos. They revived cultural celebrations based on the ancient Mayan calendar and created Kanjobal and other language programs for young children.

But kids like Omar and Maria Andres are immersed in mainstream American culture, and little exists to tie them to their community.

So while Mendez and Gaspar are happy that Monica Andres was invited to the junior honors society, that Omar was tapped for a magnet school and his older brother Daniel, 15, stopped mouthing off to teachers, they are equally pleased to hear the kids talk with pride about being the descendants of the ancient Mayans who built the massive pyramids in the Peten jungle.

And they are relieved when Daniel Mendez returns from a trip to Guatemala and excitedly recounts how fresh the food was and how clean the air was in the mountain village of his family.

"Before he would have just talked about how boring it was with no TV," notes the program's photography teacher, photojournalist Cindy Karp.

Instilling that pride is no small feat. In Guatemala, the Ladinos – most of whom trace their ancestors back to Spain – have long discriminated against the Mayans.

Even the Saturday kids can quickly rattle off stereotypes of Mayans: "short, dumb, slow, fat 'weird because of our languages.'"

"The Spanish people look down on the Mayans, and now we want to be like them. I know most kids, they're not proud of speaking Kanjobal. They want to speak Spanish or English," explains Juan Mendez's 17-year-old son Glenn, who like Omar was initially placed in a slow track and is now enrolled in a high school honors program.

Parents often prefer to speak to their children in broken Spanish or English, rather than pass on the indigenous language, says Sonia Cabrera, one of two Mayan community liaisons hired by the Palm Beach County school district.

The shadow of war makes it even harder to pass on cultural pride.

With more than 200,000 deaths, the number of those killed in Guatemala's civil war dwarfs similar conflicts in El Salvador, Argentina and Chile. For Maria and Monica Andres' parents, talking about their history means remembering how military and paramilitary groups doused neighbors with gasoline and set them on fire, and how soldiers sometimes kidnapped girls as young as their daughters.

"Those are not things we want our children to have to think about," says Micaela Andres.

At the Saturday program, there is also little discussion of the past, but the reasons are more complicated.

"People chose different sides during the war, but now they are all living near each other," Mendez said. He does not want to open old wounds. It is easier to focus on the children's future and the community in which they live today.

Through photography classes co-sponsored by the nonprofit Palm Beach Photographic Centre, the kids have learned to take a closer look at that community and the world beyond.

On a typical Saturday, they walk through the heart of Lake Worth with their cameras, strolling across streets usually occupied only by the mostly white tourists and wealthy locals. In a vintage clothing store, Leticia and Monica shriek with glee as they photograph themselves in red sable boas, fur hats and disco-era sequin berets.

"Photography makes you see things you didn't see before," Omar muses – like the man he captured talking on his cell phone, one of thousands of Guatemalan immigrants who continue to flock to Lake Worth, seeking work.

–––

Mendez and the Guatemalan-Maya Center know they are only reaching a fraction of students in need. They would like to expand the program and stay with their current charges through high school. But money and staff are limited.

And the challenges are unending: When Omar's family returned last fall from the trip to New England, Omar had missed so much school he no longer qualified for the scholarship. The prospect of the next year's trip means moving to a magnet school will be difficult. Monica decided not to join the honors society. Another boy decided he'd prefer to sleep in on Saturdays.

Still Mendez and Gaspar remain determined to show the Saturday kids they can succeed here, without forsaking family or culture.

Years after their civil marriage, the couple recently wed in a trilingual Catholic ceremony, radiant in hand-embroidered finery sent from Guatemala. They danced to the traditional marimba punctuated by modern trumpet riffs and shared a rare public kiss.

Omar and his brothers rolled their eyes.

And yet, they seemed to relish the mix of Mayan and American – the old and new. It was possible, it seemed, to be cool and Kanjobal.

End advance

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Homeland Security stages interception of mock smugglers off coast

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By LAURA WIDES-MUNOZ

Associated Press Writer

OFF THE SOUTH FLORIDA COAST (AP) – Federal and local law enforcement agents wrapped up a two-day exercise Thursday simulating a possible mass exodus from Cuba after Fidel Castro's death, but exile leaders and Cuba experts said such a scenario is unlikely.

During one simulation, nearly a dozen government vessels maneuvered past cargo, cruise and fishing boats three miles off the Fort Lauderdale coast to apprehend a 26-foot boat carrying mock smugglers who were supposed to be armed and headed to Cuba to pick up migrants.

That simulation began just hours after a real U.S. Border Patrol mission picked up more than 40 Spanish-speaking migrants who happened to arrive Thursday morning along Miami-Dade beaches. Arrivals like those occur frequently in South Florida, the majority of them from Cuba.

Still Cuba experts said they don't expect massive waves of migrants like 1980's Mariel boatlift – even after the death of Castro, who transferred power to his brother Raul last July because of ill health. More than 124,000 people were stopped at sea in a six-month period during the Mariel crisis, which was triggered when Castro said anyone who wanted to leave the communist island could.

"Forget it. It ain't gonna happen," said Jaime Suchliki, a University of Miami professor and the author of "Cuba from Columbus to Castro."

"Raul would have to say, 'Anyone who wants to go, go,'" Suchliki said, and such a move would destabilize the Cuban government and cause another major crisis with the U.S. Raul Castro wants neither.

He added that there are not enough vessels in the region to transport half a million people out of Cuba. A more likely scenario would be thousands attempting to get into the U.S. naval base at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, Suchliki said. "What would the U.S. do in that scenario?"

But he acknowledged the training serves as a deterrent, and officials have to be prepared, especially if there were a civil war, epidemic or hurricane in Cuba or another Caribbean nation, such as long-troubled Haiti.

Cuban activist Ramon Saul Sanchez, head of the anti-Castro group Democracy Movement, said he thought the focus on mass migration was overblown.

"If there is a total breakdown of the Cuban government, people will see the possibility of a democracy and freedom much closer – in their own country. They are coming here because of the tyranny," Sanchez said.

Sanchez, who took to the seas to rescue Cuban rafters during a smaller migration crisis in 1994, said he was concerned that the U.S. government might stop exiles from simply attempting to bring humanitarian aid to the island during a change in government.

U.S. Border Patrol spokesman Steve McDonald agreed there is no immediate threat of mass migration but stressed the need to train anyway.

"We as public officials have an obligation to be prepared, and the only we way we can do that for something this complicated is to test our communication systems before the event," he said.

Under Thursday's mock smuggling exercise, in which reporters were permitted to ride along, the script began with a mock 911 call to the Broward County Sheriff's Office that armed boaters were headed south to Cuba. Sheriff's deputies were to alert federal, state and other local officials who were in the area and could respond.

By 10:30 a.m., two helicopters and nearly a dozen boats from the Coast Guard, U.S. Customs and Border Protection and local law enforcement trailed the "smuggling" craft, flashing lights and ordering the boat to stop.

Agents did not attempt to board the smuggling vessel because of choppy seas, nor did they attempt to snare or disable it so as not to give away tactics, said Customs and Border spokesman Zachary Mann.

"The reality is we have the assets and the manpower. If we have to make that stop, we will make that stop," he said.

Authorities said they were pleased with the exercises but planned to review the training and make necessary adjustments. The need for a few tweaks to the plan quickly became clear after authorities created brief chaos by declining to choose the media outlets for the ride-along and urging dozens of members of the press to decide among themselves. Also, while Thursday's show of force was aimed at deterring mostly Cuban smugglers and migrants, officials failed to provide fluent Spanish-speakers for the large number of Spanish-language media that attended the ride-along.

With 85 federal and state agencies participating, the training marked the largest such exercise since a 2003 presidential directive created the Homeland Security Task Force Southeast to better police the nation's southeastern borders.

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By LAURA WIDES-MUNOZ

AP Hispanic Affairs Writer

MIAMI (AP) – Few in the crowd seemed to recognize Grammy-winning rapper and producer Wyclef Jean as he leaped onto stage before the sold-out South Florida arena. Then Colombian mega-star Shakira shimmied onto the floor, the two traded Spanish and English rhymes, and the crowd roared.

Cha-ching, thousands of new fans for Jean, the Haitian-American founder of the 1990s hip-hop sensation the Fugees.

It used to be to make it in the U.S., artists had to crossover from Spanish to English like Ricky Martin did, but lately stars like Jean, Beyonce and Jennifer Lopez are kicking it the other way – singing and rapping in Spanish for the hemisphere's Hispanic market.

It's not hard to see why.

Salsa, boleros, cumbia, alt-rock, reggaeton – Latin music offers a little something for everyone. Then there's the state of the music industry. As more fans download albums than buy them, record labels are desperate for new listeners. The estimated 32 million Spanish speakers in the U.S., not to mention another roughly 400 million Spanish-speakers in Spain and Latin America, are markets screaming to be tapped.

"It's hard to ignore when 11 million people watch the Latin Grammys," said Jose Cancela, author of the book, "The Power of Business en espanol," and a 25-year veteran of Spanish-language radio and television.

"What more and more artists are seeing is that the growth of Spanish-language media, especially in the top 25 markets in the country, is having real impact on airplay and on viewership," he added.

Beyonce's April release of the reissued "B'Day" contains half a dozen songs in Spanish. The idea for the album was born with a duet her group, Destiny's Child, recorded with Spanish pop singer Alejandro Sanz four years ago.

"A lot of my Latin fans said 'Oh, you should do more songs in Spanish,'" Beyonce said during a recent press conference in her hometown of Houston.

Beyonce took them to heart, recording Spanish versions of hits like "Irreplaceable" and "Listen" from the film "Dream Girls".

Jennifer Lopez, who was born in the Bronx to Puerto Rican parents, also just released her first complete Spanish album, "Como Ama Una Mujer" or "How a Woman Loves." Lopez has said she did her first demo in Spanish, but back then the labels weren't interested. Now she'll likely sing one of her Spanish songs when she appears in an upcoming episode of Fox Television's "American Idol."

Even Brooklyn hipster and kiddie crooner Dan Zanes, who happily acknowledges "I am such an Anglo," is working on an entire CD in Spanish due early next year.

Pop musicians have recorded songs in other languages before, but in recent years the number of top U.S. artists rolling that Spanish "r" seems to keep growing.

The benefits go both ways. Wyclef's duet with Shakira, "Hips Don't Lie," became a global hit and boosted sales of her English album "Oral Fixation Vol. 2." Meanwhile, Beyonce's recent duet with Mexico's Alejandro Fernandez for a telenovela version of Zorro is sure to cross-pollinate fans.

Miami-based music producer Rudy Perez, the go-to man for Spanish lyrics, adds that even second- and third-generation Hispanic fans like the idea that artists are reaching out to them, validating their heritage by singing in their parents' or grandparents' language.

But interest in Spanish is personal for some artists, he says.

Perez started the crossover work with Christian music star Jaci Velasquez, who is Mexican-American, then went on to work with Christina Aguilera for her 2000 album. Neither woman spoke much Spanish – Aguilera's father is Ecuadoran but she was raised mostly by her German-American mother – and both wanted to get in touch with their roots, he said.

"Like a lot of kids in the U.S., they might live Latin but speak English," he said.

Perez often writes out the Spanish lyrics phonetically for the artists. He spends hours playing with words to make each line end with a sound similar to the English version to keep the music familiar.

Aguilera's Spanish was so convincing that Perez had to go out and explain to Spanish-language media before her press conferences that she didn't actually speak the language.

Beyonce also worked with Perez and has received rave reviews for her accent. Even though she doesn't speak Spanish, Beyonce said growing up in Texas, she was influenced by Hispanic friends and culture and vowed to work hard on her pronunciation.

"I really wanted to respect the language," she said.

Zanes also said he's interested in learning more about the culture behind the music.

"It's such a big part of America and New York," Zanes said. "Not speaking the language, I felt like I was missing out on a lot fun."

Choosing the Puerto Rican independence song "Verde Luz" for his new album sparked Zanes to delve more into the island's history and independence movement. He hopes parents of his pacifier-toting groupies might be likewise inspired.

U.S. stars aren't the only ones crossing over. Canadian chanteuse Nelly Furtado's latest album "Loose" has several Spanish-language songs, and Czech singer Marta Topferova has received rave reviews for her Latin boleros. The Japanese salsa group, Orchestra de la Luz, has played worldwide for more than a decade.

So far, the Spanish-language forays seems well-received by listeners.

"Beyonce in Spanish is a little weird," said fan Vanessa Garcia, 18, a veterinarian student in Miami. "But her accent's good."

Garcia, who hooked her Venezuelan-born mother on Aguilera after playing the singer's Spanish album, said she'd probably pick up Beyonce's album.

Still, she and others harbor few illusions about the timing of the Spanish-language releases.

"I don't know if it's about culture or going back to their roots," Garcia said. "It's about more fans."

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Veteran farmworker paralegal bridges two worlds

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By LAURA WIDES-MUNOZ

AP Hispanic Affairs Writer

LAKE PLACID, Fla. (AP) – As Congress debates the future of guest workers, Raul Barrera will quietly do what he has always done – hop in his Ford pickup, drive to remote work camps and make sure those workers already here get paid what they were promised.

Barrera has been traveling these back roads since before most of the men he offers legal assistance to were born. At 71, he's worked in half a dozen states and tried unsuccessfully to retire at least three times from his job as a farmworker paralegal.

"It's in my blood. It's what I was born into," he says simply.

In central Florida, Barrera simply shows up Sundays at the local shopping center and waits for workers to find him. A less sexy version of Erin Brockovich, he takes down their stories for the legal aid attorneys. His name doesn't usually show up in the cases or the papers. But attorneys depend on him, and one south Texas sheriff even cut a record about him.

"He's a legend," said Barrera's boss, Rural Legal Services attorney Greg Schell. "I have other people who can get me clients, but when push comes to shove, their commitment is about an inch deep. When Raul gets me clients, I know they understand how much is involved."

What's involved is often testifying against the very person who recruited the farmworkers back in Mexico or Central America. It can mean getting blacklisted for the next season, or having relatives threatened.

Barrera knows what it's like to be a migrant worker and to go up against unscrupulous crew leaders. He picked cotton before he learned to read.

But unlike many of today's workers, Barrera was born in the U.S., as were his Mexican-American parents, and that colors his views. He's sympathetic to the illegal workers and fights to get them their pay, but he also worries about their effect on wages.

"I have seen other times when they have opened up the borders for workers to come in and be legalized. That's gone and people keep coming," he said. "If there was a need for workers, the price of wages for the workers would go up. If you need something you pay for it, and I don't see that happening."

Although he often challenges growers and contractors, he respects the honest ones. One of his 10 children is a farm labor contractor.

Wherever Barrera goes, he is accompanied by his wife of 40-plus years, Oralia "Lala." The two finish each others' sentences as they bump along in the Ford. And on days when Lala's arthritis cramps her fingers, Barrera combs out her salt and pepper curls.

Attorney Bill Beardall, who heads a clinic for worker rights at the University of Texas law school, was fresh out of Harvard Law School when he met Barrera in 1979. He later put Barrera in charge of shuttling more than 500 guest farmworkers over the border from Mexico to southwest Texas so they could testify against growers who skimped on federally mandated wages.

Back then, Barrera was a translator on many levels. He explained to Beardall that workers viewed his hippy jeans and T-shirts as signs of disrespect, not an effort to fit in.

The legal and migrant worlds are miles apart, notes Beardall.

"Lawyers can bridge that gap, but the other and even more indispensable link are people like Raul. He is the more rare and special."

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By LAURA WIDES-MUNOZ

AP Hispanic Affairs Writer

MIAMI (AP) – A man signaled with a flashlight in the early July morning as his pregnant wife and 30 other Cubans huddled along the coast of Matanzas. A go-fast fishing boat pulled close to shore and two smugglers loaded the group aboard.

Then, like thousands of Cubans who attempt the trip each year, they prayed the cramped vessel would make it across the roughly 150 miles to Key West.

If caught at sea by the Cuban or U.S. coast guards, they would be returned to the communist island to be ostracized, deemed unemployable or even imprisoned. If their boat capsized, they likely would die in the dark waters.

But if successful, most would win eventual U.S. citizenship. Under federal policy, most Cubans who touch dry U.S. soil get to stay. And an increasing number of them (or their U.S. relatives) are willing to pay up to $10,000 each and jeopardize their lives for the swift trip across the Florida Straits.

Interviews with U.S. Coast Guard officials and a review by The Associated Press of court documents show that from October 2002 through October 2006, the number of Cubans known to have attempted the voyage to Florida or Puerto Rico more than doubled, reaching 7,027 last year. More than half make it.

Many in law enforcement attribute the spike not to the uncertainty over Fidel Castro's health but to the paid smugglers, who have turned human cargo into big business. A go-fast boat costs about $150,000 new – an investment easily recouped when a boatload of Cubans can gross $300,000 or more. Also, the prison term they face if caught is significantly less than if they were caught smuggling a drug shipment of equal monetary value.

"Somehow because it's human smuggling, some individuals would like to think that this is something different, perhaps more altruistic or humanitarian. But it's not," Miami U.S. Attorney R. Alexander Acosta said. "The reality is that these human beings are being killed. They are being killed at the hands of smugglers who do this for profit, not for humanitarian reasons."

––

Back onboard the go-fast boat, the Cubans and their smugglers were 10 miles from Florida when they were met by a U.S. Coast Guard cutter. Cuban intelligence had tipped off U.S. officials about the boat's departure, according to court documents. The Cuban migrants urged the smugglers to ignore the Coast Guard's orders to stop. They sped up, the go-fast boat flying at 50 mph through the waves.

–––

Some who reach the United States say Cuban officials take bribes to look the other way, but stopping human smugglers is one of the few areas in which Havana and Washington cooperate. And the perpetrators are getting more sophisticated, armed with GPS navigating systems and satellite phones.

In response, U.S. officials are stepping up prosecutions.

Acosta, a Cuban-American, is a rising star in the Justice Department. Last year, he began charging suspected smugglers with felonies – breaking a practice of filing misdemeanor charges when no one was hurt – and filing more charges, adding to a smuggler's potential sentence. He's also the first U.S. attorney to use a new law making it a felony to refuse to stop a vessel or prevent its boarding.

Acosta hopes the threat of long imprisonment will pressure low-rung boat crews to seek lighter sentences by testifying against the ringleaders.

But it's not just the smuggling threat that motivates the crackdown.

"When we intercept a boat at night, it's dark. We don't know if it's 10 abuelas (grandmas) on board or 10 terrorists," said Zach Mann, a spokesman for U.S. Customs and Border Protection in Miami. The smugglers are "taking away resources that could be focused on terrorism."

–––

Out at sea, the Coast Guard finally pulled up against the go-fast boat. An officer shot out an engine. In the chaos, passenger Anai Machado Gonzalez, 24, smashed her head against the side of the boat. Blood poured from her temple. She died before she reached U.S. soil.

The smugglers and the man who flagged them down would be among the first pinched by Acosta's new policies. Heinrich Castillo Diaz and Rolando Gonzalez Delgado, both pleaded guilty to Machado's death and to smuggling. Amil Gonzalez Rodriguez was convicted by a jury on smuggling conspiracy charges but acquitted in connection to Machado's death.

Most of the other Cubans were allowed to come to shore.

––

Critics of U.S. policy toward Cuba question whether stiffer penalties can help reduce human smuggling from the island when those who avoid the Coast Guard are rewarded with green cards. Most illegal immigrants from nearly any other country are deported if caught.

Even Cubans who serve time in the U.S. for human smuggling are rarely sent back to the island for fear they might be tortured.

But Acosta says the penalties can serve as a deterrent. Although he has yet to indict anyone else in the Matanzas case, he has at least two open cases that target wider smuggling rings, and more than 50 other cases pending.

––

U.S. Magistrate Judge Michael Moore, who oversaw the Matanzas case, lauded the crackdown as a departure from the prior practice of filing misdemeanors. In response, he sentenced all three to 12 years, including Amil Gonzalez now the father of a baby boy – nearly twice the minimum sentencing guidelines and longer than Acosta had requested.

All three are now appealing their sentences. Their attorneys declined to discuss the case.

But Amil Gonzalez's lawyer blamed the so-called Cuban wet-foot, dry-foot policy for the rise in smuggling.

"Basically, if they don't touch land, it's like a high seas football game," attorney Israel Encinosa said. "Maybe if people were not allowed to come, there would be more pressure on the Cuban government."

–––

The number of Cubans trying to cross the water is down slightly in the fiscal year that started in October, with 3,181 known to have attempted the voyage so far. Yet the portion reaching land has risen to nearly 70 percent.

Officials say the overall drop is partly due to beefed up Coast Guard patrols following Castro's illness and to a crackdown in Cuba. They blame the rise in landings on more sophisticated smuggling rings and the fact that smugglers are using boats with greater capacity.

Acosta acknowledged it's too early to tell how much of a role the stepped up prosecution has played.

––

To make things harder for law enforcement, most Cubans who do make it to the U.S. are loathe to testify against the smugglers who brought them.

Machado's husband, Agustin Uralde, told authorities that the smugglers had actually rescued them from a sinking catamaran. Others from the boat acknowledged the smugglers picked them up from Matanzas, but none agreed to testify without immunity, which they didn't get. Even a Cuban doctor aboard the boat who attempted to revive Machado said he feared for his family back home.

––––

For U.S. Coast Guard spokesman Lt. Cmdr. Chris O'Neil, every interdiction is also a potential rescue, and more resources are needed for both, especially if Cubans should attempt to leave the island en masse, as they did in 1980 and again in 1994.

Yet when it comes to talk of border protection, he said, it's the U.S.-Mexico border getting attention.

"In the national debate of immigration and border security, that discussion rarely focuses on the Southeast border, which is harder to defend, just by its very nature," O'Neil said.

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Rich Venezuelans, alarmed by Chavez's socialism, head to Florida

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AP Graphic Business Visas

With AP Photos of Wednesday Feb. 28: FLLS201.

By LAURA WIDES-MUNOZ

AP Hispanic Affairs Writer

DORAL, Fla. (AP) – They call it "Plan B."

As Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez further tightens control of the South American country's economy, wealthy Venezuelans who once thought they could live with his socialist edicts are turning to their backup plan – flight to the United States, particularly Florida.

Venezuelans have long gobbled up condos and pre-construction deals in Florida as investments, but the latest buyers want homes where they can live and business properties that will help them earn a green card.

"First the people who come are the businessmen in the highest circles, then the losing politicians, then the military and then the professionals," said Miami-based immigration attorney Oscar Levin. "You're beginning to see the (Venezuelan) professionals."

This latest and largest potential group of emigrants say they fear the effect Chavez's socialist policies will have on the economy and on proposed educational reforms that could mirror the ideologically imbued education of Chavez ally and mentor, Cuba's Fidel Castro.

"There is so much insecurity, political insecurity, economic insecurity," said Venezuelan Miguel Medina, a business executive who moved to the Miami in August. "You don't know if a contract you signed today will be honored by the government in the future....This was definitely my plan B, but it was time to do the plan B."

Between 2000 – a year after Chavez took office – and 2005, the number of Venezuelans living in the U.S. doubled to about 160,000, according to the latest U.S. Census numbers. Nearly half live in Florida.

But those numbers are deceptive.

In 2005, 10,645 Venezuelans received their green cards allowing them to live in the United States, almost doubling the 6,222 who received them in 2004, according to the latest Department of Homeland Security statistics. And another 400,000 Venezuelans came to the United States in 2005 on business and tourism visas. It is unclear how many stayed.

Colombia, with nearly twice Venezuela's roughly 27 million residents, sent the same number that year.

Anecdotal evidence suggests even more are seeking to come here since Chavez's recent nationalization of Venezuela's largest telecommunications company and the electricity sector. The Venezuelan Congress also recently gave him special powers to decree laws for 18 months, and Chavez is threatening to expropriate supermarkets, stores and other businesses caught hoarding food or speculating on prices.

Medina said six family members visited him in the last two months seeking ways to relocate to the U.S. Unlike previous cycles, those seeking to leave and bring their money to the U.S. now are coming from around Venezuela, not just from Caracas, said Medina, an account executive for the credit group ExpoCredit.

Meanwhile Ralph Gomez, who heads the Miami area Tower Investments group and has long specialized in real estate for South American clients, said he's received more than two dozen calls since the year began from people interested in coming to the U.S. Other agents report a similar spike.

Upper-class Venezuelans and their money flowed out of the country after Chavez was elected in 1998 and again when he quashed an unsuccessful coup against his government in 2002, but many professionals still hoped the climate would remain friendly to business. Then came the latest nationalizations. Chavez still pledges to maintain a business-friendly climate, and analysts say the government has paid fair market prices to nationalize the electric and phone companies.

Yet, with 17 percent inflation pushing the Bolivar to more than 4,000 per dollar on the black market, compared to the official rate of 2,150 Bolivars per dollar, many Venezuelans are looking to move their businesses to the U.S. or to set up a new one here.

Those who can afford it often opt for business visas that require a minimum of a $500,000 investment in a company that creates jobs in an underdeveloped area in the U.S.

About 33,000 Venezuelans received some kind of work visa to come to the U.S. in 2005 – nearly a quarter of all such visas for South Americans – compared to about 17,000 in 1999.

Those who come are received with open arms in Miami, where their money is welcome and the Cuban exile community views Chavez as the next Fidel Castro. As of 2004, Venezuelans tied with Germans and Canadians as the second biggest group of foreigners purchasing homes in Florida, according to the National Association of Realtors. Only the British bought more Florida homes.

But moving to the U.S., even for the wealthy, isn't simple. Medina moved his family to the Miami three years ago, but it took him until last summer to tie up financial ends, obtain a visa and a job in Florida.

"I would travel back and forth when I could," he said. "It was hard, but I know I am among the lucky ones."

And while Venezuelan emigrants cite the political and economic instability of the country as their main reasons for leaving, many also talk of rampant and random violence.

Marbelia Font, 47, and her husband landed in Miami in September from Caracas to close on a newly built investment property. They thought their two daughters would enjoy the brief vacation.

But when two friends were fatally shot back home in Venezuela, Marbelia and her 13- and 8-year-old daughters stayed. Her husband returned to Venezuela, hoping to earn a visa by moving his manufacturing and construction business to the U.S. Font said he has struggled to obtain necessary legal documents from the Chavez government.

She now lives in the half-furnished home they'd planned to rent in Doral, just west of Miami. It is decorated only with a picture of her husband and the girls. She and her daughters struggle with loneliness, and she is unable to work as she waits for the family's visas to come through.

"It is so hard because the girls were very close to their father, and now they only see him once every three months," she said.