Haitians in Ohio Church Find Solace Amid Vile 'Pet-Eating' Rumors Fueled by Trump

"Jesus is with us in truth, and the truth is that Haitians are not eating pets and geese in Springfield," thundered Rev. Carl Ruby, his voice resonating through the sanctuary. He rallied his congregation to join their Haitian brethren in prayer and peaceful protest against the vile rumors that have cast a dark shadow over their community. "It is truth that a retraction of these rumors will help to restore peace in Springfield," he declared, issuing a solemn plea to the politicians and media figures fanning the flames of this divisive firestorm.

At the heart of this maelstrom is none other than the polarizing figure of former President Donald Trump himself, who, during a televised debate against Vice President Kamala Harris, stoked the fires of this baseless conspiracy theory. His running mate, JD Vance, doubled down on the incendiary claims, further inflaming tensions in the city where over 15,000 Haitian migrants have legally sought refuge under the U.S.'s Temporary Protected Status program -- a haven from the unrest and gang violence ravaging their homeland.

Viles Dorsainvil, leader of the Haitian Community Help and Support Center, accepted Rev. Ruby's invitation to worship, finding solace in his faith amidst the turmoil. "It's important to be here because we're Christian -- despite everything, we worship in good times and bad times," he said, his voice tinged with a weary resilience. "I'm relieved that I'm in the presence of God. It's therapeutic." And to Trump and Vance, he had a poignant message: "If they have the heart of God, they will think differently and speak differently."

The fallout from these incendiary claims has been swift and severe -- violent threats against the Haitian community have sown fear and disruption throughout Springfield. Mia Perez, a 35-year-old immigration lawyer, recounted the anguish of her 9-year-old daughter, whose school was evacuated twice due to bomb threats aimed at a nearby DMV. "Kids in school are being asked by other kids: 'How does the dog taste? How does the cat taste?'" she lamented, the pain etched on her face. "She's asking, 'Are we the kind of Haitians who eat this kind of stuff? Is it true? What's happening?'"

"This is a conversation that I was not ready to have with my daughter," Perez confessed, her voice heavy with the weight of anguish and disbelief. "I felt disrespected of our culture."

As the service drew to a close, Rev. Ruby praised his parishioners for a "beautiful moment amid what he called a storm of chaos." Turning his gaze to the Haitian members seated in the front pew, he implored the congregation to collectively bear witness to their plight: "Pray and think what it is to be a Haitian parent sending their child this week to school."

Among those in attendance was Rose-Thamar Joseph, 40, who works at the Haitian Community Center. "I was praying for peace and protection -- for the Haitian community and all of Springfield," she confided, her words a poignant plea for understanding and unity. "I just want Springfield to go back to what it was a couple of months ago."

In the face of such baseless allegations and the ensuing chaos, the Haitian community of Springfield has found strength and dignity in their faith -- a bulwark against the tide of intolerance and vitriol that threatens to engulf them. As they raise their voices in prayer and song, their resilience echoes through the halls of Central Christian Church, a defiant affirmation of their humanity in the face of those who would deny it.