In a vast Amazon warehouse in central Ohio, the stress might seem to be all about the work. It’s the holidays, and like every other Amazon fulfillment center, the one in West Jefferson is under the gun. Hundreds of employees are working 12-hour shifts, racing to sort and pack thousands upon thousands of items destined to land in living rooms before for Christmas and Hanukkah.
Yet, for many of the workers, there is a deep, unspoken unease. It has nothing to do with the holidays or Amazon. It has everything to do with being immigrants from Haiti in a nation that just elected Donald J. Trump as president.
Many of them live a half-hour away in Springfield, the city that found itself dragged into the presidential campaign after Mr. Trump and his allies spread a debunked rumor that Haitians there were abducting and eating cats and dogs.
It unleashed a raw, painful time for the city. There were bomb threats against schools and hospitals and marches by white supremacists. And thousands of Haitians, who in recent years had fled a violent, impoverished country and settled in the town of 60,000, found themselves wondering if they should continue to live in Springfield.
Now, many of them fear they may not be able to stay in the United States. Mr. Trump has vowed to carry out mass deportations and to curtail programs, such as Temporary Protected Status, that have allowed many of the Haitians to remain in the country at least in the short term. And he has promised to target the thousands of Haitians living and working in and around Springfield.
“Sometimes I can’t sleep, I am so worried,” said Frantzdy Jerome, 33, a Haitian immigrant, who works the overnight shift at the Amazon warehouse.
Jobs are what drew Mr. Jerome and thousands of other Haitians to Springfield and surrounding communities, and they have helped drive a boom in manufacturing and distribution and revitalize fading pockets of the city.
The influx, however, also strained schools and government services in Springfield, and that prompted a backlash among some longtime residents who saw the newcomers as burdens on the community, even as they were embraced by local businesses that were eager for new workers.
On a recent evening, traffic was heavy from Springfield east to West Jefferson on Route 40, with many cars headed for Amazon.
In the parking lot, two Haitian women and three men emerged from a Ford Focus. Out of a Hyundai Santa Fe came four others. Dozens and dozens of workers speaking Haitian Creole hurried toward the entrance of the facility with the company’s signature smiley arrow.
Amazon recently sent workers there a message saluting their holiday-season hustle, which has helped the site become one of the company’s most productive in the country.
“I felt very, very proud because it couldn’t have happened without Haitians,” said Sadrac Delva, 44, who lives in Springfield and works in logistics troubleshooter at the Amazon facility.
Ray Martin, the mayor of West Jefferson, which has a population of 4,400 and a large concentration of warehouses, said that “if it wasn’t for the immigrants, they would be hurting for workers.”
Amazon does not ask job applicants their nationality, according to a spokesman, Steve Kelly. So it is difficult to know precisely how many Haitians are working at the West Jefferson warehouse. Like other employers, Amazon is required to verify workers’ identity and eligibility to work in the United States.
Pierre-Paul Pierre, who lives in Springfield with his wife and 1-year-old daughter, fixes robots at the facility, where he has worked since 2020, alongside his brother and a cousin.
“You practically only see Haitians,” said Mr. Pierre, 41, a Haitian native who became a permanent U.S. resident after marrying an American. “This place depends on Haitians.”
He showed a screenshot on his cellphone: It was recognition he had received from Amazon a few years ago for processing more than 5,000 items in a 10-hour period, significantly above the average.
The congratulatory message sent on Dec. 11 thanked workers for their dedication. “I’m looking forward to breaking a few more records before 2024 is over,” said the note, shared with The Times by an employee.
Amazon’s warehouses are known as intense, demanding workplaces, and while the company’s labor practices have drawn considerable scrutiny from regulators, legislators and the news media, the jobs the company has created have been welcomed by many communities.
Amazon opened the West Jefferson center just before Haitians began arriving in Springfield in large numbers. Local leaders were encouraging businesses to expand, and word spread about plentiful jobs and low living costs.
Local leaders have lauded the work ethic of Haitians and other immigrants employed by companies in the area. “The immigrants show up, stay at their stations, pass a drug test and do what they have to do,” said David Kell, the director of economic development for Madison County, home to the Amazon facility.
Mr. Jerome, who makes $21.50 an hour and lives with his wife and their toddler in the area, reported for his overnight shift with three fellow Haitians on a recent evening.
Like other arriving workers, he clutched a clear bag. His was packed with avocado, mango, oranges, crackers and water to snack on during breaks.
He works in a range of roles, including “picker,” grabbing items off shelves and scanning them; “stower,” placing inventory on robotic shelves; and “water spider,” a do-it-all troubleshooting role.
“It’s very tiring, but I am happy,” he said.
Next year, he hopes to take advantage of a company program that covers tuition, to train as an electrician.
Mr. Delva, who has been at Amazon since 2021, has Temporary Protected Status. That status allows people to remain in the United States if their home countries are enduring extreme violence or other humanitarian crises. But critics have said that with some countries such as Haiti in perpetual turmoil, TPS has become an indefinite, even permanent protection and that Mr. Trump is right to roll it back.
When Mr. Delva started working nights, he said that there were fewer than 20 Haitians on his shift. Today, information about the items they are handling is displayed in Haitian Creole, he said.
“Now, it’s obvious that Haitians are the majority,” Mr. Delva said.
By 2022, Mr. Delva and his wife had saved enough for a down payment on the three-bedroom house in Springfield, where they now live with their three U.S.-born daughters.
On a recent chilly evening, he was feeling under the weather. After swallowing some aspirin, he was on his way to work. At least for the moment, the worry about his immigration status and the changes that could be coming in January were not front of mind. There was business to tend to.
“We have to get the products to customers,” he said. “It’s the holiday season.”
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