SUFFER THE CHILDREN

At Guantanamo Bay Naval Base, Cuban refugees cavort happily on the beach in a scene reminiscent of a Club Med. They have good reason to celebrate: soon they will be flying off to freedom in the U.S. Meanwhile, less than a mile away, more than 200 Haitian children lounge listlessly under drab green tents, seeking refuge from the harsh midday sun. Camp Nine, their home since last June, is a desolate patch of cactus-filled desert where the only sign of life is an occasional banana rat or iguana. A fence encircles the camp, which is guarded by American soldiers. The children, many of them orphans, have languished in this dusty purgatory for nearly a year. Despite the efforts of immigrants' rights groups, only a few of the Haitian minors -- who range in age from infants to teenagers, including some who are pregnant -- have been allowed to enter the U.S.

"When I heard that the U.S. was going to let 15,000 Cubans into the country and leave 450 Haitians in Guantanamo, I felt like someone had stuck me with a knife," says a 17-year-old boy. "This is a very cruel situation." (U.S. military officials will not allow the children to be quoted by name.) When Attorney General Janet Reno announced the new Cuban policy on May 3, dozens of furious Haitian teens first tried to organize a hunger strike with the younger children, then went on a rampage, pelting soldiers with rocks and setting tents on fire. No one was seriously injured in the melee, but a handful of soldiers and children ended up with cuts and bruises.

Earlier this year some of the children attempted suicide by drinking bleach. Marleine Bastien, a Miami social worker, counseled a desperate 16-year-old boy who tried to hang himself from a tree branch in February. He survived only because the branch snapped under his weight. "Many of these children have expressed suicidal ideas," says Bastien. "Are we going to have to wait for a fatality before something is done?''