For locals, it's nothing new. Visitors are something else. Many have no knowledge of Santeria and are confused and even revulsed by random encounters with gutted livestock. Image-wise, South Florida has enough to worry about without trying to explain the prevalence of animal sacrifices. The most ingenious advertising agency in the world couldn't put a positive spin on decapitated turtles.
Recently one of those true-life TV cop shows assigned a camera crew to ride with a Dade County animal-control officer. Almost immediately the officer came upon a sacrificed goat, whose body segments had been arranged on a railroad crossing, along with some blood and pennies. As the video rolled, the officer calmly explained the meaning of the grisly scene—a Santeria offering to Ogun, of course.
Just one more thing for South Florida tourists to fret about. Martha, call Hertz. See if our collision insurance covers dead goats.
Once I visited a young santera, a practitioner of the rites. She was thoughtful and, by all appearances, sane and normal. When she described the technique by which barnyard animals were sacrificed in her kitchen, she spoke of it as matter-of-factly as if recounting the family recipe for meat loaf.
Unfortunately, what appeals most to Santeria followers—the ability to practice the religion in the privacy of their homes—is what bothers many of their neighbors. The praying and prostrating before statues is no problem. It's the business with animals, which can get sloppy and noisy and (if overpublicized) can play hell with property values. For most of us, the killing of chickens is tolerable as a distant abstraction. When we buy a bucket of Extra Crispy, we really don't mourn the dead fryers who gave their legs, breasts and thighs for our lunch.
On the other hand—call it hypocrisy, call it a cultural gap—most of us aren't too thrilled when one of our kids bursts through the door and says, "Can I spend the night at Billy's? His mom's going to kill a rooster and drink its blood!"
Many of the creatures used in Santeria are eaten, but some are not. The leftovers often turn up in public places. This can be bad for neighborhood relations. What we need down here is a new category of zoning: AS-residential. Animal sacrifices would be permitted there, and no place else. Every home would have its own incinerator.
It would be no comfort to the poor animals, of course. As long as people believe in Santeria, critters will die. For what, I'm not sure.
Years ago, a mad-dog drug killer and fugitive named Miguel Miranda built a Santeria shrine in his back yard in South Miami. There he sacrificed animals, drank their blood and prayed for the gods to protect him from police.
Miguel must've been using defective chickens. The DEA shot him in the head.
Tourists: Be alert for crime Miami-style
August 19, 1991
The Greater Miami Chamber of Commerce needs $40,000 for a project that might save lives: a new brochure that will advise tourists how not to become the victims of crime.
This is a milestone in the annals of South Florida promotion. Finally the chamber is admitting, in writing, that there is a crime problem. It's a small brave step, and let's hope it gets done. Forty grand is peanuts compared to the millions spent to subsidize auto races, tennis tournaments and Super Bowls.
A few weeks ago, Hertz and other rental companies began unbolting the logos from their cars because so many customers had been attacked by smash-and-grab robbers. Tourists, unfortunately, make prime targets.
"Don't leave your common sense at home!" the new brochure tells visitors. Keep your car doors locked and your windows up at all times. Don't pick up hitchhikers. Be careful when using ATM machines. If confronted by an armed robber, don't resist. If a suspicious person approaches you at an intersection, look both ways before running the red light.
It's solid generic advice that applies to traveling in any big American city. Miami, though, is different from other big cities. Before the new pamphlet goes to press, some of the warnings should be modified to fit our unique style of crime.
From the moment a tourist steps off the plane at Miami International, he or she must be vigilant and alert:
• If someone offers you $5,000 to carry his "grandmother's suitcase" through Customs, don't do it.
• When renting a car, check the trunk for dead bodies. If you find one, tell the rental agent immediately—not only are you entitled to a different car, but also to a free upgrade from compact to midsize.
• If you're taking a taxi, beware of drivers who speak fluent English. They're obviously novices who couldn't find Coconut Grove with a cruise missile. Once you select a taxi, though, be courteous and tip generously. Recently a local cabbie was convicted of beating a customer to death in a dispute over a fare.
• Choose a hotel carefully, and remember: Location isn't everything. If the block is cordoned off with bright yellow tape, ask your driver to recommend another place.
• When checking in, ask the desk clerk to put your belongings in the safe—not just your valuables, everything. Underwear, dental floss, sunblock … gone when you get back. (A friend recently had his shoes stolen from his room at a very famous Miami Beach hotel. He was told that it happens all the time; apparently there's a booming underground market for used footwear.)
• When going outdoors, try not to dress like a typical hayseed tourist. For instance, don't wear black socks under your sandals, and don't tape one of those tiny plastic sun shields over your nose. And that $800 Nikon dangling from your neck might as well be a neon sign that says, "Mug Me!"
• When playing on the beach, don't leave cash hidden in your tennis shoes. As noted before, shoes get stolen.
• Be wary of roadside peddlers, common at South Florida intersections. If you're really in the mood for fresh guavas, fine. But if a guy comes at your car with a cinderblock, assume he's not trying to sell it to you. Step on the gas.
• If you must carry a purse or wallet during your visit to Miami, experts recommend securing it to your torso with a sturdy 42-inch length of galvanized chain and a single-action Master padlock. Arc welding is an optional precaution.
• No Rolexes, even fakes. Among thieves, these are almost as popular as secondhand shoes.
• When boating in the Atlantic, don't pick up any bales, floating duffel bags or plastic packages. These are often marked, "Made in Medellin."
• On the highway, be careful of police impersonators. Even with a blue flashing light on the dashboard, it's unlikely that a 1968 Fairlane with no hubcaps is being driven by a real cop. Don't stop until you find one.
Finally, when asking strangers for directions, don't ever begin the conversation with the words, "Hi, we're from out-of-town … "
Tourist crime not too bad—(just ignore facts)
February 28, 1993
An emergency panel convened last week to tackle the problem of crime against tourists. The topic wasn't just the shootings, beatings, robberies and carjackings committed daily on visitors, but the resulting international uproar.
Contrary to the harsh publicity, law enforcement officials insisted that less than 4 percent of all crimes target "nonresidents" of Florida. That means the overwhelming majority of victims are folks who live here full-time. That comforting statistic is seldom mentioned in the local and foreign news media, which the governor chastised for "hyping" the crime situation, scaring potential tourists away.
The criticism is well-aimed and overdue. For too long we journalists have thoughtlessly put our obligation to report the facts ahead of our larger civic duty to promote Florida as a carefree vacation paradise, regardless of its homicidal perils.