Haiti, a very dim light at the end of the tunnel

I recently had the opportunity to be the subject of a documentary as part of a school assignment for a student filmmaker.  He was a friend of my daughter’s, so I agreed to be interviewed. We kicked around a few topics that could be interesting and then settled on what felt right and what I knew well—the anxiety and desperation of living in a country that is falling apart.

Inspired by my recent blog post, “Haiti, as the lights fade away…” Christian, the student filmmaker, crafted questions that delved further into my experience and prompted me to share some of my views on the situation in my home country. I’m no political analyst, but I don’t need to be one to have an opinion. It is difficult to hear from the people I left back home, to feel their quiet resignation as they run out of options, and not formulate an opinion.

The Toussaint Louverture International Airport in Port-au-Prince has been closed for 64 days. No one comes in; no one goes out. Only the Cap-Haïtien International Airport, on the island’s north end, is operating to accommodate limited flights to Miami International Airport by one local airline. But getting from Port-au-Prince to Cap-Haitien, whether to make one of these flights or to find temporary refuge, is a perilous journey. One of my friends, whose street in the La Plaine locality on the outskirts of Port-au-Prince has become a stage for daily shootings with the police as gang members occupy her neighborhood, made such a decision. She left everything behind, except for a small carry-on bag containing essentials and important papers, and climbed onto a motorcycle with her elderly mother and brother. Packing up their car and leaving the neighborhood under the watchful eyes of aggressive gang members would probably have been a bad move.

Nevertheless, on their way to a local hotel, armed men stopped them and asked them where they were going.  They nervously indicated that they were taking their elderly mother to the hospital. The armed men did not believe them, as their luggage gave them away.  “If it weren’t for your mommy here, I’d spill your brains all over the pavement,” one of the bandits spit out, his gun pointed menacingly at them before, by some divine intervention, he let them go.  This is the stuff nightmares are made of.  My friend and her family continued on their way, profoundly shaken and undoubtedly thanking God for the fact that they were spared. This ordeal they lived through will probably mark their memories for a long time to come. Thankfully, they are now safely in Cap-Haitien.

If you are able to make it to Cap-Haitien, a one-way ticket for a one-hour and a half flight to Miami costs over one thousand dollars. That’s about 134,000 gourdes. A significant sum of money for people who have had financial setbacks given the situation in the country for the last three years. What a way to put a knee on desperate people’s necks!

So, what does day-to-day life in Port-au-Prince look like?

People are more or less confined to their neighborhoods, not willing to venture out into the streets where gangs rule if it isn’t an emergency. With many banks being ransacked and pillaged, they now operate on a reduced schedule, with many branches unable to open to serve the people. Paychecks remain uncashed, leaving people with no access to cash. Grocery stores continue to serve, but their shelves are running low on common items, as, back in March, gangs ransacked the main seaport terminal where imported goods come in and continue to control national roads that lead into and out of Port-au-Prince, effectively limiting the flow of local products into Haiti’s biggest market.

In my own neighborhood, days are spent anxiously waiting for the promised retaliation from powerful gang leader Izo’s “Five-second” gang for having had the gall to valiantly defend ourselves against his soldiers during last year’s violent assault. Our resistance had given birth to what would become a nationwide “bwa kale” movement where residents, as a last line of defense, found themselves actively hunting bandits and their scouts who had come to wreak havoc in their neighborhoods. But not all neighborhoods have come together in such a way. Many of them, if not most, are still defenseless, but some have erected huge metal gates to serve as permanent barricades to lock down their neighborhood in an attempt to keep gangs out. No one knows how effective these barricades are. And so, they wait.

Many of my neighbors and friends no longer go to work as the businesses or organizations they work for have shut their doors or packed up and left town as they are no longer able to operate in such a hostile environment.  This translates into no income, and for those with little to zero savings, it means no way to fill the most basic of needs.  Another good friend recently watched his two young daughters go without food for two days until a benevolent hand gifted him with a few dollars.  He had been kidnapped about three weeks before. Luckily, the bandits let him go after a few hours, but they took everything he carried on him: his work laptop, a tablet for his girls, phones, and wallet.  Just two days ago, he was trapped overnight in the plant where he works because gang members had locked down the area by moving empty containers around the facilities.  Venturing out could have deadly consequences, so he stayed put. Those who are blessed with remote work do so gratefully, but this represents a challenge when energy sources like electricity and fuel are limited.  The G-9 and Allies gang has once again hijacked fuel tanker trucks to barricade access to Terminal Varreux, the country’s largest gas depot, creating another gas crisis in the country.

A third friend told me about her niece, who is six months pregnant. Her obstetrician has left the country, like so many other physicians, and her family is on a mad search for a competent midwife. With hospitals running out of supplies, including fuel, and forced to close their doors due to unprecedented violence in their area, we wonder what will happen when the baby comes. Unless she finds a way to Cap-Haitien and catches a flight out to Miami, both her life and the baby’s life might be at risk.

What about the masses?

Gang violence has displaced more than 362,000 people, fleeing for their lives. Over the past month, more than 90,000 people have left Port-au-Prince for safer provinces. Thousands of those who have stayed behind are now sheltered in camps and government buildings like the Ministry of Communication. There is a reported increase in cholera cases inside camps due to overcrowding. Cholera has seen a resurgence in Haiti since October 2022, after three years of no reported cases. You might recall that cholera was a sad consequence of the United Nations Peacekeeping Mission in Haiti back in 2010. That, and the many incidences of rape by UN peacekeepers, are two of the reasons why many Haitians are weary of the return of any United Nations-supported security mission in Haiti. However, many fear that the National Police, though its efforts to fight back the gangs have been remarkable, is running out of breath.  They need reinforcements.  It is, then, with mixed feelings of hope and anxiety that the people await the U.N.-approved and Kenya-led multinational mission for security support that will soon arrive in Haiti.

In the meantime, as more than half of the Haitian population faces aggravated food insecurity, with 1.4 million of them facing imminent starvation, the World Food Programme is undertaking the herculean task of responding to the worst hunger crisis in this part of the world while navigating unprecedented gang violence.

While major news networks and social media influencers spend their resources interviewing ruthless gang leaders like Jimmy “Barbecue” Chérizier and Vitelhomme Innocent, one of the FBI’s most wanted, not one word is sought or heard from the Haitian authorities. These gang leaders, under the fragile coalition known as “Viv Ansanm” (Living Together, in English), seem to have adopted the same language and the same objective: to overthrow the old system of corruption and make room for inclusive dialogue that would allow the nation to begin to heal and move forward with a new system where every Haitian is taken into account. Odd words coming from a bunch of hoodlums ruthlessly tearing down neighborhoods, attacking government institutions, burning schools, ransacking the National Library, raping women and girls, slaying the very innocents whom they claim to be protecting from the “system,” and bringing an entire economy to its knees. But it doesn’t mean that they are not right. In their media-oriented discourse, I mean. Not their horrific actions nor their hidden agendas.

One week ago, the new “Haitian solution” transitional government, a nine-member presidential council with seven voting members, was officially installed at the National Palace amidst automatic gunfire in the Champ-de-Mars area. After five days of silence, the Council announced that they had chosen their president, ex-President of the Senate and representative of the Collective of Political Parties of January 30th, Edgar Leblanc Fils, and a new Prime Minister, Fritz Bélizaire, with four votes out of seven.  The minority members of the Council contested both gentlemen because of the manner in which they were selected. It would appear that the Council has violated its own April 3rd agreement that outlines how they would proceed in selecting a president and a prime minister. So, there is conflict within the ranks. The longer the Council takes to settle their differences and select a new Prime Minister, the longer it will take to set up a working government.  Without that new government, the longer the people will have to wait for initiatives to redress the situation,.  If this new council hoped to gain the people’s trust once it was officially installed, there is not yet evidence that it is on the right track.

So, my opinion is this:

If all crises give rise to innovation and the opportunity for renewal, then we, Haitians, today have the unique opportunity to start afresh and make Haiti a better place for all Haitians.  And we will do so by making the right choices going forward. We will do this by reminding ourselves of the importance of our history as a people and growing the balls necessary to take charge of our collective destiny as a nation and our individual destinies as human beings and citizens of the world.

We know that a country cannot be built without a strong state and a responsive government that is sensitive to the needs of the population. We know full well that any new constitutional government, whether at the central or communal level, can only be established through the holding of free and fair elections if we are to hope for a better future for our beloved Haiti. So, aside from urgently addressing Haiti’s security issues, our focus should be there.

I concluded my last blog post, “Haiti, as the lights fade away…” by stating, “My wish for Haiti is that, after all of this is over, if ever it is over, the Haitian people will have wised up and are no longer willing to bargain their vote for money, for they have seen first-hand what happens to a nation when the wrong people are elected to public office.” I want to expound on my conclusion by saying that we now have a unique opportunity to base these upcoming elections on an electoral law that favors competence and integrity and facilitates a vote based not on a candidate’s degree of popularity but on each candidate’s vision for a prosperous Haiti. A vision that is supported by a program that we, as Haitians, can all stand behind.

With that in mind, any electoral law should establish eligibility criteria that weed out potentially bad apples and encourage the many respected professionals and community leaders, who for many reasons are usually very shy about entering the Haitian political arena, to participate in elections at all levels of the competition. One of my recommendations would be to ensure that the list of qualifying documents that all candidates must submit to the provisional electoral council (CEP) includes the “déclaration de patrimoine,” which is a person’s list of all their assets and liabilities.  This document is usually required at the start of a person’s mandate after he or she has already been elected or named to office. Many do not comply and are left to enrich themselves at the expense of the Haitian people if they are so inclined. Requiring it as part of the eligibility package prior to elections or official nominations seems like a sensible thing to do.

This law must not exclude any political party (as history has shown us that this will lead to nothing good), because all the sons and daughters of this sacred nation, regardless of their political affiliation, have the right and duty to participate in the reconstruction of a country with such an exceptional history. Today, there is no Parliament, corrupt or otherwise, to block the passage of such a law. If the Transitional Presidential Council, in my humble opinion, wants to do relevant and far-reaching work, it will have to ensure the modification and passing of such a law. We, Haitians, cannot afford to miss this train.

This is an unhoped-for opportunity to put things right and elect men and women worthy of the posts of President, Senator, Deputy, Mayor, and ASEC so that these noble institutions can finally fulfill their respective roles of spearheading progress in their communities and ensuring the well-being of all the people of Haiti.

The solution to Haiti’s issues should be truly Haitian if there is to be buy-in and long-lasting change. Who will step up?