Educated Exiles in Miami to Return When It’s Safe : Rebuilding: Skills of these professionals sorely needed in Haiti. But many still fear the wrath of the military.

As U.S. troops disarm parts of the Haitian military and set the stage for the return of ousted President Jean-Bertrand Aristide, hundreds of Haitian exiles here--including a vital cadre of educated professionals--are watching for signs that it is safe for them to go home.

But many are less than sanguine about seeing those signs any time soon.

“While Aristide might be well-protected when he goes back, we would not be,” said Roger E. Biamby, an Aristide adviser now running a job-training program sponsored by the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Miami in Little Haiti.

“After each change of government in Haiti, people go back, some to run into persecution,” he said. “We have been burned before. So now Haitians are going to be a lot more careful. Going back is going to be a gradual thing.”

Many Haitians here applaud the U.S. intervention in their homeland, but almost all express outrage over Sunday’s agreement between Washington and Haiti’s military leaders. The pact, negotiated by a delegation from Washington led by former President Jimmy Carter, has U.S. soldiers sharing law-and-order duties with the Haitian police and military, while allowing the leaders to remain in the country.

“U.S. troops are allied with the (Tontons) Macoutes,” Biamby said, referring to the plainclothes private army of thugs who terrorized Haitians, first for dictator Francois (Papa Doc) Duvalier, then for his son, Jean-Claude (Baby Doc), and lately for the Haitian military who overthrew Aristide.

About 200 Haitian exiles gathered peacefully Friday afternoon in downtown Miami to denounce the deal brokered by Carter and his fellow envoys, retired Gen. Colin L. Powell and Sen. Sam Nunn (D.-Ga.).

“Jimmy Carter Is a Traitor,” proclaimed one sign.

“No Amnesty for the Rapists,” another said.

Relatively few of Miami’s 70,000 Haitians plan to return to Haiti to live. Most, whether they fled the country for economic or political reasons, by rickety boat or by airplane, are better off here. Most have families and roots here.

“I’ve been here for 17 years,” said Tony Canova, 51, who runs a day-labor pool and who was wearing a straw hat on which was written “I love Titid,” which is Aristide’s nickname.

“I want to go back to visit, but not to live,” Canova said.

But a core group of highly educated Aristide supporters--people with the type of skills needed to rebuild a Haitian society left in tatters after years of military repression and an international embargo--do plan to return. They just do not know when.

Reginald de Landsheer, 34, a physician who was threatened and left his homeland and his medical practice weeks after Lt. Gen. Raoul Cedras seized power on Sept. 30, 1991, said, “Before I go back, I want to know there is an atmosphere of security.”

Security is problematical in Haiti. While U.S. troops have begun to fan out through the countryside in search of weapons in the hands of the military government’s plainclothes forces, many Haitians are skeptical that complete disarmament can be accomplished. And revenge is a Haitian tradition as powerful as voodoo.

“If the Macoutes are not disarmed, then there will be another coup,” Biamby said, echoing the sentiments of those who say they will return if they are assured the Macoutes are no longer a threat. “They will kill the president.

“Those men should be locked up, tried and sent to jail, or else we’ll have chaos down the road,” he added. “What message does it send when the worst that can happen (is) that you go into exile with millions of dollars? Blanket amnesty is immoral.”

Biamby, who is not related to Brig. Gen. Philippe Biamby, one of the generals whom pro-Aristide Haitians want to see leave the country, fled the Duvalier regime in 1963. He lived in Miami until returning to Haiti in 1990 to work on Aristide’s election campaign. He was in Miami trying to sell his house when the coup against Aristide took place. He has not been back since.

“I would be dead if I had gone back,” he said. “The Macoute criminals would kill me.”

De Landsheer was in his Port-au-Prince office in October, 1991, when the police came, hauled him down to the police station, slapped him around and, he said, “put (me) in a state of panic.”

De Landsheer’s brother, Patrick, an Aristide supporter and one of the owners of Radio Cacique, was already in hiding after the station was closed and his life was threatened. A few weeks later, both De Landsheers were in Miami too.

“I left with my wife, two children, two suitcases, $3,500 cash and a bottle of rum,” said Reginald de Landsheer. The money and rum are gone, his wife and children are with relatives in New York, and he spends his time studying for the Florida medical boards.

With the U.N. embargo still in place, there are no direct flights to Haiti and no easy way to get there. But the De Landsheers and Biamby want to return as soon as it is safe.