Rebuilding Carrefour Feuilles
Carrefour Feuilles, June 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Carrefour Feuilles, June 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Carrefour Feuilles, June 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Carrefour Feuilles, June 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Carrefour Feuilles, June 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Carrefour Feuilles, June 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Carrefour Feuilles, June 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Carrefour Feuilles, June 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
More from Saut d’eau (belatedly)
Catching up on the posting as the reporting goes on. Here’s my story for The Haitian Times.
Pilgrimage Provides Haitians a Cleansing
Saut d'Eau, July 2010. (Photo by Alice Speri)
Saut d'Eau, July 2010. (Photo by Alice Speri)
SAUT D’EAU, Haiti – Arriving on foot, by horse or on the roof of old trucks, sharing motorbikes, air-conditioned rental cars or the tightly packed and colorful Haitian tap-taps, thousands made the pilgrimage to Saut d’Eau, last week, to pray voodoo spirits and the Virgin Mary for money, a new home and a better life.
The trek to this small town in Haiti’s central plateau and the bath in the cold waters of a local fall have been a tradition since 1847, when Our Lady of Mount Carmel was believed to have appeared on a palm tree nearby. At the time a French Catholic priest cut down the tree hoping to prevent what he thought was blasphemy, but the ritual caught on. Every year, Haitians of all class and background come to Saut d’Eau from cities, remote villages and even abroad, to offer animal sacrifices and donations, dance, or just have a fun time during one of Haiti’s most celebrated religious festivals.
The first large gathering since the earthquake that last January killed over 230,000 and devastated much of Port-au-Prince, this year’s event brought less visitors than the usual – as the trip to Saut d’Eau is now beyond the means of many – but also brought some new devotees looking for hope and comfort.
Saut d'Eau, July 2010. (Photo by Alice Speri)
First-timer Paul-Erick Mereilier, a 23 year-old from Tabarre, on the capital’s outskirts, rode for over three hours in a crowded truck and spent the night sleeping on its hardwood benches.
“Many people are coming for the first time because of the earthquake,” said Mereilier, who lost his home and a brother in the quake and has been unemployed since graduating high school.
Shaking in the cold water Mereilier said he always believed in voodoo but never thought about coming here before now.
“I came to look for possibilities, I would like to ask the spirits for a chance,” he said, then asked, “ Can you help me find a job?”
Near him, a young girl in a bright swimsuit convulsed in a trance, while relatives kept her from hitting the rocks with her head and other bathers came to touch her and whisper requests in her ears, believing her to be possessed by Erzulie, the voodoo spirit they came to worship.
All around, hundreds of men and women of all ages bathed with soap and mint leaves, some naked, others fully clothed. Some chanted verses from the Bible, while young men sipped rum and children played in the water.
Saut d'Eau, July 2010. (Photo by Alice Speri)
Saut d'Eau, July 2010. (Photo by Alice Speri)
Under a tree by the waterfall, Andre Chevry, a thin 50 year-old dressed in the red and blue colors of voodoo priests, welcomed worshippers to light candles and practiced mystical rituals for a fee.
“People come here to find satisfaction and solutions to their problems,” said Chevry, sipping clear liquor and warning listeners that God brought about the earthquake.
“Everyone finds what they are looking for,” he said, but when asked whether this would suffice to solve Haiti’s problems he answered, “I can’t guarantee anything.”
In addition to the typical requests for money, health and better relationships, this year many came praying for a new home.
Roland Wilfred lost his house and garage in the earthquake and sent his wife and three children to live with relatives in the south of the country, while he scrapes by in Port-au-Prince.
“I’m strong like a rock, I work hard, but since the earthquake everything has been bad, I don’t feel right anymore,” the 39 year-old mechanic said.
In Saut d’Eau, Wilfred spent the night in a tent, which he refuses to do in Port-au-Prince because he is scared for his safety, and while he says he believes Haiti needs more than just spirits, he has been coming on the pilgrimage since he was a child and says he will continue to do so.
“When I come here I feel like everything is going to be alright,” he said, before getting into the water. “But I really need a house.”
With some 2 million still living under tents and many more who lost their jobs and savings in the earthquake, with a government failing to meet basic necessities, increasing exasperation and rising poverty, the spirit of Erzulie will hardly solve the problems of the thousands that have come to honor her over the past week. But to many, the pilgrimage has a healing value.
Saut d'Eau, July 2010. (Photo by Alice Speri)
Saut d'Eau, July 2010. (Photo by Alice Speri)
“People feel happy here, after so much stress they finally have a place where to put their problems,” said Ruth Paul, a 40 year-old mother who stopped to cool down by a stream during the hike up to the waterfall. Paul said she didn’t lose her faith and came to ask that her two sons do well in school and that her destroyed business – a wedding gowns rental – pick up again.
“It’s like when you have a problem and you go to a friend. Even though your friend can’t help you 100 percent, you feel comfort anyway,” she said. “It’s better than keeping it all to yourself.”
Her friend Karl Lemar, 32, agreed, but had a more practical request.
“I pray that the government put a big parking lot in Saut d’Eau,” he said. “ We spent too much time in traffic last night.”
Saut d'Eau, July 2010. (Photo by Alice Speri)
More on Saut d’Eau and Haitian voodoo
Saut d'Eau, July 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Saut d'Eau, July 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Saut d'Eau, July 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Saut d'Eau, July 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Saut d'Eau, July 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Saut d'Eau, July 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Saut d'Eau, July 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Saut d'Eau, July 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Saut d’Eau portraits
Saut d'Eau, July 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Saut d'Eau, July 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Saut d'Eau, July 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Saut d'Eau, July 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Saut d'Eau, July 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Saut d'Eau, July 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Saut d'Eau, July 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Saut d'Eau, July 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Saut d'Eau, July 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Saut d’Eau
My story on the Saut d’Eau voodoo festival, for AFP.
By Alice Speri (AFP) – 1 day ago
SAUT D’EAU, Haiti — Thousands of Haitians have flocked to a hilltop voodoo festival, offering a special prayer to the spirits to find them new homes and ease their plight six months after a massive quake.
Saut d'Eau, July 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Saut d'Eau, July 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Saut d'Eau, July 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Dressed in white, they clambered up the hill to bathe in a waterfall and take part in an annual ritual which has drawn the faithful for almost 200 years to the town of Saut d’Eau in the central Haitian plateau.
On this spot in 1847, the Catholic saint Our Lady of Mount Carmel is believed to have appeared in a nearby palm tree.
Fearing the vision could trigger a flood of religious zeal, a Catholic priest cut down the tree. But he was too late, and ever since sometimes as many as 20,000 people have made the annual pilgrimage here.
Voodoo remains an official state religion, and it is estimated more than half of Haiti’s population practices at least elements of it, but it is often followed alongside Catholicism, in rare mixing of the faiths.
This year fewer people than usual turned out for the two-week long festival, which culminated on Friday. For many Haitians, devastated by the January 12 earthquake, the trek from the capital Port-au-Prince was beyond their means.
But those who came had fervent prayers for the voodoo spirit Erzulie — the spirit of the waterfalls and the voodoo equivalent of the Virgin Mary — to find them a new home.
It was the first large gathering since the earthquake that killed over 250,000 and left some 1.5 million homeless.
“Many people are coming for the first time because of the earthquake,” said Paul-Erick Mereilier, who lost his home and a brother and has been unemployed since graduating high school.
Mereilier, 23, from Tabarre, on the capital’s outskirts, rode for over three hours in a crowded truck and spent the night sleeping on its hardwood benches.
The crowds sacrifice animals, usually chickens and goats, and smear their white clothes in the blood, chanting and dancing, often sending themselves into a trance.
Others bathe in the waters of the waterfall, hoping their wishes will be granted.
Saut d'Eau, July 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Saut d'Eau, July 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Shaking in the cold water, Mereilier said he always believed in voodoo, but had never thought of coming here before.
“I came to look for possibilities, I would like to ask the spirits for a chance,” he said.
Nearby, a young girl in a bright swimsuit shook in a trance, and as relatives kept her from hitting her head on the rocks, other bathers came to touch her and whisper requests in her ears, believing her to be possessed by the spirit Erzulie.
All around, hundreds of men and women of all ages bathed with soap and mint leaves, some naked, others fully clothed. Some chanted verses from the Bible, while young men sipped rum and children played in the water.
Under a tree by the waterfall, Andre Chevry, a thin 50 year-old dressed in the red and blue colors of voodoo priests, welcomed worshippers to light candles and practiced mystical rituals for a fee.
“People come here to find satisfaction and solutions to their problems,” said Chevry, sipping clear liquor and warning listeners that it was God who had brought about the earthquake.
“Everyone finds what they are looking for,” he said, but when asked whether the ritual would suffice to solve Haiti’s problems, he answered, “I can’t guarantee anything.”
Roland Wilfred lost his house and garage in the earthquake and sent his wife and three children to live with relatives in the south of the country, while he scrapes by in Port-au-Prince.
“I’m strong like a rock, I work hard, but since the earthquake everything has been bad, I don’t feel right anymore,” the 39 year-old mechanic said.
While he says he believes Haiti needs more than just spirits, he has been coming to the pilgrimage since he was a child.
“When I come here I feel like everything is going to be all right,” he said, before slipping into the water. “But I really need a house.”
Haiti is struggling to cope with the aftermath of the earthquake. But for many, the pilgrimage is part of the healing process.
“People feel happy here, after so much stress they finally have a place where to put their problems,” said Ruth Paul, a 40 year-old mother who stopped to cool down by a stream during the hike up to the waterfall.
Paul said she had not lost her faith and came to ask that her two sons do well in school and that her destroyed business — a wedding gowns rental — picks up again.
“It’s like when you have a problem and you go to a friend. Even though your friend can’t help you 100 percent, you feel comfort anyway,” she said. “It’s better than keeping it all to yourself.”
Saut d'Eau, July 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Saut d'Eau, July 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Saut d'Eau, July 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Rain in Port-au-Prince
And hurricane season starts tomorrow.
Imagine living under a plastic tarp.
Delmas, Port-au-Prince. May 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Delmas, Port-au-Prince. May 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Delmas, Port-au-Prince. May 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Delmas, Port-au-Prince. May 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Delmas, Port-au-Prince. May 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Delmas, Port-au-Prince. May 2010 (Photo by Alice Speri)
Port-Au-Prince, March 2010
This are some images from my first time driving on one Port-au-Prince’s main roads, last March. Though little has changed and nothing has been reconstructed, this street feels different today.
I guess a crisis can become “normal” if it lasts long enough.
Route de Delmas, March 2010. (Photo by Alice Speri)
Route de Delmas, March 2010. (Photo by Alice Speri)
Route de Delmas, March 2010. (Photo by Alice Speri)
Route de Delmas, March 2010. (Photo by Alice Speri)
Route de Delmas, March 2010. (Photo by Alice Speri)
Route de Delmas, March 2010. (Photo by Alice Speri)
More on Child Trafficking
In my story for AFP.
The battle to combat child trafficking in Haiti
Ouanaminthe, Haiti. August 2010. (Photo by Alice Speri)
Ouanaminthe, Haiti. August 2010. (Photo by Alice Speri)
OUANAMINTHE, Tuesday 17 August 2010 (AFP) – On market days, Clarine Joanice sits on a plastic chair by the crowded bridge marking the northern border between Haiti and the Dominican Republic. Every time a child walks by, she gently grabs its arm and asks the accompanying adults for travel papers.
Joanice is a child protection officer with the Heartland Alliance, a small US-based rights group helping to track down child traffickers sneaking minors through Haiti’s porous border.
Since January’s earthquake that killed more than 250,000 people, the group has stopped 74 children it suspected were being trafficked out of the country.
“We stop everyone, public cars, private cars, trucks, children on foot,” explained Joanice on a busy Monday morning, as thousands of vendors carrying merchandise crossed the dusty bridge into the Dominican town of Dajabon.
Ouanaminthe, Haiti. August 2010. (Photo by Alice Speri)
Over 100 children cross the border each week, with that number doubling during school vacations. Southern crossings closer to the capital are even more jammed, and controls there are next to non-existent.
Before January’s devastating quake, an estimated 2,000 minors were trafficked into the Dominican Republic annually, according to official figures.
Since then, the Haitian police’s Minor Protection Brigades (CPM) has stopped 3,000 minors on the border, 750 of whom carried no documents.
Despite this and the international outcry that followed an attempt by US missionaries to illegally take 33 children into the Dominican Republic in the chaotic aftermath of the quake, Haiti still lacks the proper legislation to clamp down on the trafficking of minors.
The International Organization for Migration (IOM) and UNICEF have provided technical assistance to the government in drafting a law, but the proposal remains under revision.
“This lack of legal framework seriously hinders our work pursuing traffickers,” said CPM commissioner Renel Costume.
While immigration officers are stationed at the Ouanaminthe border post and UN troops and police are also on the lookout for illegal activities, almost nobody gets stopped on market days.
Further south at the Belladere crossing — some five kilometers (three miles) from the Dominican town of Elias Pina — there isn’t even an immigration office.
The rusty gate into the Dominican Republic closes at 6:00 pm, and it is not unusual for people to walk right around it after hours.
Under the bridge that separates Ouanaminthe and Dajabon lies “Massacre River,” named for the slaughter of Haitians by Dominican dictator Rafael Trujillo in the 1930s and now often the scene of drownings.
“Sometimes smugglers take children across the river by making them hold onto a cord,” Joanice said. “But if something happens or they get scared, they just run away and leave the children there.”
The Heartland Alliance’s border control initiative, which interviews and registers children, parents, and potential traffickers is often the only form of traffic prevention at key border posts.
“It’s a mess, the border is totally open,” Ramsay Ben-Achour, Heartland Alliance’s Haiti director told AFP. “It’s very easy to traffic children.”
Joanice related a recent experience in which her team stopped a man crossing the bridge with a 10-year-old girl who started to cry and said she didn’t know him.
“He just told us, let me go sell her, I’ll pay you half of it,” she recalled. “Fifty-fifty.”
The Heartland Alliance has no mandate to arrest smugglers but cares for the children in custody until their families have been tracked down.
That task is often complicated by a lack of documents, although child protection officers interview the children and conduct rigorous investigations registered in databases shared with a network of other NGOs.
“Before the earthquake, 40 percent of children had birth certificates. Now there are no statistics, but I would put it at half of that,” Ben-Achour said.
Alternative identifications methods range from reading body language clues to asking parents to identify birthmarks. Sometimes the process takes hours of phone calls. Other times it’s as easy as asking children for their names.
Marie Sonye Ducoste, a child protection officer in Ouanaminthe, stopped a man with two children, wearing their best clothes and apparently headed to the market.
“This is my son, look at him, he has the same ears as his sister,” the man told her jokingly, pulling a photo from his wallet showing him with the two children.
He has no travel papers but Ducoste lets him go anyway, after lecturing him on the importance of documents.
“We don’t always know whether it’s trafficking or not, but if we have any doubt, if the children look like they don’t know the persons accompanying them, we don’t let them through,” she said.
Ouanaminthe, Haiti. August 2010. (Photo by Alice Speri)
Ouanaminthe, Haiti. August 2010. (Photo by Alice Speri)
Fighting Children Trafficking, One Child At The Time
My story for The Haitian Times.
Ouanaminthe, Haiti. August 2010. (Photo by Alice Speri)
Ouanaminthe, Haiti. August 2010. (Photo by Alice Speri)
Joanice, 27, is a child protection officer with the Heartland Alliance, a small human rights organization that has taken on the daunting task of monitoring the passage of minors through Haiti’s loose four border crossings with its neighboring country. Since January, Joanice and her colleagues have stopped 74 children they suspected of being trafficked out of Haiti, and have referred their cases to the Haitian National Police.
“We stop everyone, public cars, private cars, trucks, children on foot,” explained Joanice on a busy Monday morning, while thousands of vendors and shoppers carrying merchandise crossed the dusty bridge in and out the Dominican town of Dajabon. Over 100 children cross this border every week, but the number is at least double during the current summer vacation. Southern crossings closer to the capital are even more jammed, and controls are porous.
Before the earthquake, an estimated 2,000 minors were trafficked to the Dominican Republic annually. Since January, an inter-agency group devoted to the protection of minors has registered 3,356 children separated from their families, while more than 6,000 others have been moved out of the country, according to UNICEF.
But despite international polemics after a group of US missionaries attempted to illegally take 33 Haitian children into the Dominican Republic in the chaotic aftermath of the earthquake, Haiti still lacks legislation against the trafficking of minors. The International Organization for Migration (IOM) and UNICEF, among others, have provided technical assistance to the government in drafting such a law, but the proposal is still under revision.
“This lack of legal framework seriously hinders our work pursuing traffickers,” said Renel Costume, the Haitian Police commissioner in charge of the BPM told AFP.
The Heartland Alliance’s border control initiative, now carried out in cooperation with MINUSTAH and more recently, the Minor Protection Brigades (CPM) a special section of the Haitian National Police founded in 2003 in cooperation with UNICEF, is inevitably limited but it is often the only form of child protection on the country’s borders.
“It’s a mess, the border is totally open,” Ben-Achour, said. “It’s very easy to traffic children.”
Ouanaminthe, Haiti. August 2010. (Photo by Alice Speri)
Ouanaminthe, Haiti. August 2010. (Photo by Alice Speri)
While most people answer her questions, it is not unusual for child protection staff to chase people down the bridge when they refuse to stop.
“Some are quite hostile and often this hostility can hide something,” Joanice said, adding that she got used to insults and even death threats.
One smuggler recently offered her to split profits. The man was trying to cross the bridge with a 10 year-old girl, who was waiting alone for her mother to sell her products when he snatched her. When Joanice’s team stopped the man, the girl started to cry and said she didn’t know him.
“He just told us, let me go sell her, I’ll pay you half of it,” Joanice recalled. “Fifty-fifty.”
The Heartland Alliance has no mandate to arrest smugglers but it refers them to the local authorities, while keeping the children into custody until it has verified legitimate ties to the adults with them.
That is often complicated by a lack of documents, but child protection officers, who are now training the government’s own officers to do the same, also work with psychologists, interview the children and conduct rigorous investigations on each case, which they scrupulously register in databases shared with UNICEF and organizations like Save The Children.
“Before the earthquake, 40 percent of children had birth certificates. Now there are no statistics, but I would put it at half of that,” Ramsay Ben-Achour, the Heartland Alliance’s Haiti Director said, explaining that the organization is carrying out a sort of census of unaccompanied children, which it also uses for its family reunification programs. Alternative identifications methods range from reading body language to asking the parents to identify birthmarks or children to describe what they had for breakfast. Sometimes the process takes hours of phone calls and verifications with other relatives. Other times it’s as easy as asking children for their names.
“We’ve had traffickers provide birth certificates for the children and then pulled the children aside and they gave us completely different names,” Ben-Achour said.
While Haitian authorities are stationed on the border and UN troops and police watch the borders for illegal activities, almost nobody gets stopped on market days. Further south, the border town of Belladere, some 5km from the Dominican town of Elias Pina, has a custom service but lacks an immigration office altogether. While the rusty gate into the Dominican Republic closes at 6pm, it is not unusual for people to walk right around it after hours.
“The Haitian reality is that it’s hard to find people with passports,” said Marie Sonie Ducoste, 25, another child protection officer in Ouanaminthe, as she stops a man crossing the border with his two children, wearing their best clothes and headed to the market for the day.
“This is my son, look at him, he has the same ears as his sister,” the man tells her jokingly, pulling out of his wallet a family portrait and pointing to his children in it.
He has no travel papers but Ducoste lets him go anyway, after lecturing him on the importance of documents. Ducoste says she doesn’t stop clearly safe children or the many minor workers who cross the border back and forth to shine shoes or sell cold drinks, whom she now knows individually. But if she has any suspicion, she asks the adults to come back with their children’s and their own IDs.
“We don’t always know whether it’s trafficking or not, but if we have any doubt, or if the children look like they don’t know the persons accompanying them, we don’t let them through, and we refer them to the BPM or the police,” Ducoste said.
The Heartland Alliance has added to its protection plan car checkpoints further away from the border as well as early evening patrols with MINUSTAH’s Uruguayan troops and local police. It is also about to open a drop-in center where child workers can play on days with no market.
The organization’s mandate and security policy require police to accompany staff at all times, meaning that late-night shifts and entire areas that people frequently use to informally cross the border remain uncovered.
“It’s hard to identify how many children slip through the cracks, if we knew that we would have stopped them in the first place,” Ben-Achour admitted. “But a lot of smuggling happens in the evening time, when we are not there.”
“We can’t be there without the police but they don’t have man power, they don’t have the budget, they don’t have cars, gas, they don’t get paid all the time,” he added.
But while international organizations and national authorities are stepping up efforts, the lack of public resources is a challenge.
“We are dealing with insufficient staff,” said Renel Costume, the local head of the BPM, adding that the police would otherwise “seriously consider” patrolling at night and on unofficial border crossings. Since January, the brigades have stopped 3,000 minors on the border, 750 of whom carried no documents.
“In the coming months, BPM with the support of UNICEF will increase the territorial coverage,” UNICEF spokesperson Irene Sanchez echoed, adding that UNICEF “encourage national authorities to increase vigilance along the borders and at the airport.”
But at the moment, exit points remain largely uncovered.
Even on market days, when full teams of child protection officers work in Ouanaminthe, several children slip by and many more cross the border by fording the river under the bridge, named the “Massacre River” after a slaughter of Haitians by Dominican dictator Rafael Trujillo in the 1930s.
Ouanaminthe, Haiti. August 2010. (Photo by Alice Speri)
Children also sleep or play on either bank of the river, where drowning is common.
“Sometimes smugglers take children across the river by making them hold onto a cord,” Joanice of Heartland Alliance said. “But if something happens or they get scared, they just run away and leave the children there.”
Ayiti Tales 