For a real Haitian-led solution, follow exodus to Haiti’s provinces for clues | Part 1

NEW YORK—While chatting with a cousin last week, she told me that her side of the family still in Port-au-Prince was biding their time, waiting for a lull in the gang attacks to go back to our province in Haiti’s Artibonite region.

‘Ah, ou konnen. Moun yo ap fè lè pou yo retounnen en provens.’ That’s what she said. In English, they’re holding on, waiting to make their way back to the provinces.

That internal migration is one viable path to the ‘Haitian-led’ solution the U.S. and other friends of Haiti have been clamoring for, yet have chosen to ignore. Many Haitians have been turning to this solution for several years now, to escape the hell that Port-au-Prince has become. Looking at Haiti’s capital right now, it’s past time for those who are actually interested in stabilizing Haiti to take that cue and turn their eyes, ears and money toward the provinces.

By this, I don’t mean just physically returning to those locations. I mean going there to seek out, support or replicate ways that Haitians are managing to eke out a living with whatever they have. It’s somewhat heartening to know that millions of Haitians keep striving despite the absence of institutional or governmental support and services, maintaining their dignity while doing so. In the midst of this latest chaos, the examples these folks are setting are Haitian-led models worth following and elevating.

At an institutional level, the U.S., Canada, Caricom, OAS, WHO, Haitian diaspora — any stakeholder that really cares for change in Haiti, for that matter — must look for what’s working in the provinces  and fund those efforts directly. Haiti’s regions, or departments, must be part of the calculus now if we’re to have a chance at success. The answers are not all in Port-au-Prince, teeming as it is with kleptocrats, oligarchs and foreign frenemies who prop up the age-old system that enriches individuals while impoverishing the entire country.

Non. Nou te pran sant sa deja. We’ve seen this one before.

‘Port-au-Prince is not Haiti’

Once upon a time, “all roads lead to Port-au-Prince” was an inarguable truism because Haiti’s capital was designed to be that way — physically, financially and culturally — even before 1804.

Here are some things to realize about Haiti. 

• At 10,714 square miles, Haiti is just smaller than the size of Maryland. It is divided into 10 regions, called departments, that are home to about 10 million of Haiti’s 12 million population.
• Port-au-Prince proper is less than 15 square miles, smaller than Manhattan’s 22.5 square miles. It was built in 1749 to accommodate French colonizers and has been the seat of power since then for mostly commercial reasons. 
• The city has sprawled out into the massive metropolis it is now, estimated at 60 sq mi, starting in the 1960s. That growth stemmed from Duvalier bringing in people from the provinces in waves, literally carting them by the truckloads, as props in psychotic power plays he used to prove he had popular support. But he never provided transportation back to their towns.
• Services and infrastructure didn’t expand to keep pace with the population growth. Countless bidonvilles rose up, resulting in the level of congestion and desperate conditions that made it easier for crime and exploitation to also rise. The seeds for today’s gangs were planted during this time. [See our “Gangs: A deeper look” special report for more on this.]

Meanwhile, the provinces that once filled the state’s coffers with agricultural riches have lost economic power. As a consequence of bad governance stemming from inept politicians and moneyed classes sitting in Port-au-Prince or cities abroad, our beautiful towns kept losing population to the city and abroad, drawn by the possibility of jobs and schooling. 

As Port-au-Prince continued to ignore the provinces for the most part, residents there had to figure out ways to survive without the capital. We’ve seen provinces develop  real cooperatives, not the scammy ones. We’ve seen them create local schools or systems with the help of the diaspora, through hometown associations. We’ve also seen them take matters into their own hands, as the Ouanaminthe compatriots have done to build the Massacre River canal. 

Over time, many in the provinces and abroad came to see Port-au-Prince as a dangerous waystation not get caught dead in, literally at times for some, unfortunately. It wasn’t uncommon for many in the diaspora to bypass Port-au-Prince and go straight to their homes in the provinces. Or, as my family did, pass through on the way to the U.S. So it wasn’t that surprising to hear that people were skipping it in favor of nearby islands, then leaving it.

Last year, during The Haitian Times’ Banboch Kreyol festival in Brooklyn, Lolo Beaubrun of Boukman Eksperyans emphasized that “Port-au-Prince pa Ayiti,” he said. He described how lovely and quiet a life he had enjoyed in Ouanaminthe while there just weeks prior. Like so many proud Haitians, Lolo said to pay attention to life outside the capital and remember that other Haiti. 

After the assassination came the exodus

The first time I heard of people leaving Port-au-Prince for the provinces was around the summer of 2021, after President Jovenel Moise was shot dead in his bedroom. In the course of interviewing sources for other stories since, we kept hearing from other people who had left for towns in the other departments. A few of our Haitian Times staffers and collaborators had to decamp after gangs overran their neighborhoods. One entrepreneur went as far away as the Dominican Republic.

Since then, even more people have left the capital as the gangs became more heinous. Actual data isn’t available since there’s no functioning government agency to ask, much less track. But from interviews and observations, we know that families overwhelmed the bus depots after attacks in places like Carrefour Feuilles last August, in their haste to get out of there.

This “other Haiti” that people are running back to for safety is one place to look for solutions. We need to balance the gun-toting gang imagery with stories of how people are managing to send their children to school, buy and sell goods, secure access to food and water, host holidays and even fight back against suspected gangs, bwa kale style.

The provinces are where the majority of Haitians live. Where the sun rises and folks wake up the next day with much less fear than their brethren in Port-au-Prince. They also serve as great incubators for all types of grassroots efforts to create and maintain livable communities. Efforts by Haitians for Haitians.

In a way, this past month’s forced decongestion of Port-au-Prince is long overdue. This mass exit of the capital’s internally displaced residents may be key to the ever elusive “Haitian-led” solution. Following their stories is a good way to find and elevate those Haitians who exercise their agency, day in and day out, instead of waiting for state support or manna from abroad.

Decentralizing Haiti is a necessary next step in terms of governance. The clues to getting that part right are with those Haitians in the provinces, the longtime and recent wave of residents looking for new opportunities. They are the folks who deserve to be brought to the table to solve Haiti’s problems. Not the same old politicians jockeying at the Caricom meetings in Kingston for a position on the presidential transitional council. 

Stay tuned for Part 2, which explores specifics about how the provinces can help solve Haiti.